clo (clo) wrote in clofic, @ 2005-07-12 01:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | andy roddick, andy roddick/roger federer, nc-17, roger federer, series, verse:pcti |
Series: Match Over (verse:Pretty Close to Invincible, NC-17, Andy Roddick/Roger Federer)
Title: Match Over
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Federer/Roddick
Summary: After the Wimbledon final Andy catches Roger in-between all the press and publicity.
Notes: Part two of the Pretty Close to Invincible series, sequel to Play Suspended. I also exaggerated the Wimbledon aftermath slightly - I seriously doubt they'd be so cruel to poor Roger.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not so much as one broken racquet string of it.
“So I can't worry about so much what he's doing when he's not across the net from me.” – Andy Roddick on Roger Federer
Match Over
He was almost starting to wish he hadn’t won. Not quite – yet -, but almost. How he’d managed to forget the furor of press and publicity becoming Wimbledon champion involved was beyond him, because it was crazy. He’d barely had time to grab a quick shower in between interviews and he was pretty sure he’d made a fool of himself at least twice. Possibly three times, if talking too enthusiastically about his pet cow counted.
It was times like this a reputation for being polite and accommodating came back to haunt you; officials and press were cheerfully hustling him from interview to interview, secure in the knowledge that the unflappable Roger Federer would take it all in his stride. Someone like Safin or Hewitt would’ve thrown that last interviewer through the nearest window for implying they were an old-fashioned player from some backward mountain village, while Andy would’ve at least hit back with some scathing remarks. Roger had just frowned a little and moved onto the next question, inwardly stung. The whole thing was beginning to wear down even his considerable patience - the sun was setting outside, the Champions Ball was due to start in three hours and he hadn’t even left Wimbledon yet. In the more trying moments of the night, he had been very close to wishing Andy had won instead. At least the American would have had the nerve to demand a break before now, kicking and screaming for it if he had to.
Thinking of Andy made Roger more than a little nervous. He caught sight of his reflection in a mirrored plate as he passed a trophy display; his frown had deepened and he looked worried, nothing like the exuberant champion of a few hours earlier. The journalists and officials he was following were thankfully a little way ahead, Mirka deep in conversation with them as she sorted out his schedule for the night. Roger sighed heavily as his gaze brushed over his girlfriend and he slowed a little more, almost losing sight of the group as they rounded a corner. He hadn’t told Mirka; he didn’t know if he would tell her and considering it now for the first time made him wince. He loved her, he did, it was just…
Andy. He’d hardly had time to reflect on his earlier… encounter with the American and thinking about it now was making him blush. He’d never fucked a guy before and technically, if he forced himself to be pedantic, he still hadn’t but it was the closest he’d ever got. The instant they left the showers afterwards they’d been rushed outside to continue the match, eyes meeting across court only to glance hastily away. Somehow in the second rain break they’d missed each other – if Roger was being honest with himself, he knew they’d actually avoided each other – and apart from a few quick words in front of thousands of watchful eyes, they hadn’t had time to speak. Roger watched the group in front of him disappear round yet another corner before sliding a finger under the waistband of his jeans to touch body-warmed cotton. He had no idea why he’d pulled the American’s borrowed briefs back on after his shower. It scared him a little that he’d even wanted to.
Kind of kinky, Andy’s voice whispered in his mind and Roger shut his eyes, willing himself to just forget it. He wasn’t going to ruin his life over this. He heard Mirka’s cheerful voice echoing back to him from further along the corridor and his heart sank.
He didn’t intend to ruin his life but god he hoped he already hadn’t.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that the arm wrapping around his waist and yanking him backwards into a dimly lit alcove jerked loose a cry of surprise. It was muffled by a calloused hand pressed quickly over his mouth. “Your money or your life,” a familiar voice murmured teasingly in his ear and Roger relaxed back into the warm body behind him.
“Baftud,” he hissed through the muffling hand.
A stubble-rough cheek rubbed against the side of his neck, accompanied by a chuckle. “Watch your mouth,” the voice continued in the same amused tone. “S’not polite.”
The hand over the Swiss’ mouth slid away to rest on his shoulder and the grip on Roger’s waist slackened enough for him to turn to face Andy, who was grinning broadly. It was only with an immense effort that Roger controlled a thrill of excitement as he met the wicked hazel eyes.
“You make a habit of abducting people?” he demanded in a whisper, remembering the journalists and Mirka just down the corridor. Andy shrugged, still grinning. His tennis clothes were gone, replaced by jeans and a long sleeved shirt but his hair was wet and he looked as if he’d only just come from the showers. Roger tried to keep his breathing normal; being pressed together like this was doing nothing to help his self control and he knew that the American knew exactly what effect his surprise ‘abduction’ was having. Andy was warm through layers of clothes, his grip on Roger just tight enough to suggest his more-than-friendly intentions – Roger’s control was on the edge of cracking and Andy knew it.
“Well,” the American drawled with deliberate slowness, his hands sliding down to Roger’s hips. “I only abduct people with good reason… like when they have something that belongs to me.” He made his point clear, sliding a hand a few inches down Roger’s jeans. The Swiss couldn’t suppress a hitch in his breathing.
“We’re in a corridor,” he hissed furiously, glancing in the direction of the journalists who were still faintly audible. Andy blinked.
“Is that any worse than a restroom?”
“Look, I don’t care-“ Roger stopped, suddenly noticing the gleam of triumph in the American’s eyes. “You’re teasing me.”
“Well. Mostly.” Andy’s lips twitched and he hooked the fingers of his other hand through Roger’s belt, using it to pull the Swiss closer so they were touching from shoulders downwards, close enough to kiss if one of them just leaned forward slightly. “I got the stuff I lent you back… minus one item.”
Roger swallowed. Andy’s fingers were warm against his skin and his body was eagerly reminding him of other places they’d felt warm against before, little shivers of pleasure racing across his skin everywhere they touched. It was hard to think with the two of them were pressed together so close, Andy’s mouth barely centimeters away… but the murmur of voices down the corridor from their dark alcove was alarmingly close.
“What do you want me to do, strip?” Roger demanded without thinking the words through and regretted them as Andy’s face lit up. “Nein. No. Not- not here.”
“Hey, chill. I didn’t grab you to give me a striptease in a corridor. As tempting as the idea is.” Andy was still smiling as Roger’s flash of panic faded but he kept his hand down the Swiss’ jeans, only a few inches from where it had been hours earlier and where Roger’s body was begging to have it again. “I just wanted to say congratulations. You deserved to win.”
Roger took a deep breath, hearing it catch unsteadily as he let it out again. Andy hadn’t dragged him in here simply to say well done; that was clear from their closeness, the calloused hand stroking sensitive skin and the other one looped possessively through his belt. They were already familiar with each other, with each others’ bodies and how they fit comfortably together. It was a little weird.
Make that very weird.
“We both deserved to. It was a great match,” he replied sincerely, wondering what to do next. He settled on tested Andy’s intentions by fractionally leaning his weight back and was almost disappointed when the American immediately withdrew. Andy seemed to take it as a brush-off, his grin fading to a small smile as he turned away.
“Anyway. Have fun at the Ball tonight.” He flashed back a grin, laced with wickedness. “Don’t forget to take advantage of that dance with Sharapova. It’s the one time her dad’ll let you get close enough to touch.”
He was leaving and Roger startled himself with a sudden wave of crushing disappointment. He didn’t want Andy to stay. Did he? Mirka’s face flashed through his mind but the voices of the journalists had finally faded completely and Andy was only a few steps down the corridor. Faster than he’d thought even he could move, Roger was leaning out the alcove and dragging Andy back into the hidden corner, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man. He rested his chin on the American’s shoulder and closed his eyes, pressing his face against Andy’s neck.
“If you wanted me to stay, all you had to do was say it,” Andy said softly without turning his head. Roger was pressed against him, heat between them all the way down and the Swiss couldn’t think of what to say so he just tightened his grip with a wordless mumble. Andy wriggled a little.
“Rog?” he warned. “This is great, really, don’t get me wrong but we have about two minutes before they realize you’re missing and-“
“Ja, I know.” Roger reluctantly loosened his grip a little. “But we need to talk Andy, because I’m leaving for home tomorrow and if we leave this now, we’ll never work it out. And we need to.”
“We do.” Andy sounded unusually subdued. “So? Was it just a one-off?”
“Do you want it to be?” Roger asked softly, getting the same sinking feeling again. Andy hesitated then sighed.
“No,” he admitted so fast Roger had to concentrate to keep up with the words. “I had fun and I think we could have more fun together. I don’t usually go for guys but… but…”
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Roger finished, speaking for himself at the same time. Andy swallowed.
“Yeah.”
“So what?” Roger shifted his grip slightly, hands sliding under Andy’s shirt far enough to touch hot skin, keeping down the excitement fighting to make him smile because Andy wanted it, wanted there to be a them and that was almost enough to make him forget the problems they’d face. He couldn’t help himself; he pressed his mouth to Andy’s neck, feeling the American shiver. “What can we do? We’d never have time for more than what happened today, unless…”
“Unless we were exclusive,” Andy said softly. “And I hate to break it to you but we can’t. There’s too much to lose. Mirka-“
“I know.” Roger felt a stab of guilt at hearing his girlfriend’s name from the lips he’d been kissing only hours earlier. “You’re right.” He leaned his forehead on Andy’s shoulder, eyes still closed as he frowned, torn. Andy shifted slightly in his arms, twisting as far as he could but still unable to see the Swiss’ expression.
“Roger?” he asked, concern in his voice. The Swiss took another deep breath.
“We can’t but I want it,” he admitted without opening his eyes. “I want more than… I don’t want it to be.... I don’t want quick gropes in dark corners. I don’t want to have to see you across court and wonder if it will be me touching you after the match or whatever model you’re dating that week. I don’t want…”
“… to be casual,” Andy summed up for him, an unexpected thread of anger in his voice. Roger didn’t catch it, nodding hard enough to bump his forehead off Andy’s shoulder.
“Ja… Yes.”
The American pulled free of his grip with a sudden movement that made Roger’s breath catch in shock but Andy immediately turned, pushing him back against the wall. Their mouths met in a bruising kiss, Andy pressed against him the only thing keeping Roger standing, one of the American’s hands braced on the wall while the other one curled around Roger’s neck, keeping him still.
“I’m going to say this once Roger,” the American breathed in a deadly serious tone, barely breaking the kiss enough to speak. “I’m not the type to fuck and run. I would never screw you when it suited me as if it didn’t mean anything.” He looked away with a half-laugh of disgust at the idea. “Dammit, I like you. I respect you!”
“Andy-“ Roger tried to interrupt.
“Hell, I’ve spent the best part of tonight wishing I could be you-“
“ANDY!” Roger hissed frantically as the American’s voice rose, grabbing the wrist of the hand pressed to the wall before Andy could move away, tendons moving under his grip when Andy instinctively made a fist. Roger met his eyes, desperately trying to convey his sincerity.
“”I never thought that,” he said, seeing the words register in the slight narrowing of Andy’s eyes. “I swear to you, I trust you with my life.” Guilt was a heavy weight as he wondered if he’d inadvertently just ruined everything. “I never meant to suggest you’d do… I just… I…”
“Whoa.” Andy shook his head urgently, meeting Roger’s eyes with a worried look. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. The opposite actually.” He pressed another kiss to Roger’s mouth, softer this time. “I guess I overreacted. It’s okay Roger.” He wrapped the arm the Swiss didn’t have captive around Roger, kissing him again in what felt like a mutely possessive gesture. Roger leaned into it in abject relief, closing his eyes. Andy was first to break away for air.
“I meant what I said just now,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against Roger’s. “I would never do that to you. Not a million years.”
“I know.” Roger tightened his grip on the American without opening his eyes. “I know.”
They remained silent a moment, then Andy broke the mood with a muffled laugh. “Um… Roger? I like my insides. Please stop crushing them.”
“Oh! Sorry.” Roger hastily slackened his grip only to find himself pinned back against the wall again, Andy’s broad grin making him mentally kick himself.
“Tut tut, poor gullible Swiss,” the American murmured, one hand exploring Roger’s jaw line in apparent fascination while the other surreptitiously loosened his belt. “This is going to get one-sided if you don’t start learning my tricks. I’ll be able to have my oh-so-wicked-way with you whenever I want.” He slid the tip of his tongue along Roger’s chin, ignoring the hitch in the other man’s breathing. “It’ll make the chase more fun if you run a little bit first.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Roger managed to gasp out before a wave of cool air hit his thighs and he felt his jeans fall. “No Andy-“
“Shh.” The American effectively shut him up with a kiss, tongues dueling frantically for a moment before Andy cheated with a hand between Roger’s thighs. The Swiss opened his mouth in shock – and Andy delved in gleefully deep, murmuring wordlessly pleased nonsense into Roger’s mouth.
“Andy-“ Roger tried again as the American pulled back slightly but Andy clamped a hand over his mouth.
“You want this right?” he demanded in a whisper, his eyes barely an inch from Roger’s. The Swiss’ eyes crossed as he tried to focus briefly, then he gave up and just nodded.
“So prove it,” Andy challenged wickedly. “I want you to keep absolutely silent for the next ten minutes, understand?” Roger tried to mouth a question against his palm and the American shook his head admonishingly. “Just promise you will.”
This was insane. Mirka, the journalists, officials, anyone could come looking for them any second. They’d get caught. The humiliation- oh god, Mirka-
Entwined with Andy Roddick, his entire body shaking from the feelings racing through him, Roger couldn’t bring himself to care or even think. He rolled his eyes to signal his exasperation but nodded mutely, once.
Good boy.” Andy removed his hand and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Roger’s lips. “It’ll be worth your while,” he murmured and dragged his mouth down, tracing the Swiss’ throat with gentle teeth. A whimper escaped Roger’s lips at the sensation and Andy leaned back, looking up at him reproachfully.
“You promised.”
Roger couldn’t answer. Andy’s hands on his arms felt hot enough to burn; his breath was coming in short, hard gasps. He looked down, dark eyes begging Andy not to stop and even to tease Andy couldn’t resist it.
“Don’t do it again,” he commanded half-heartedly and leaned back in to kiss his way down Roger’s chest, mouth wet through the Swiss’ t-shirt, until he reached the waistband of his own white briefs, straining against the erection beneath. Roger bucked his hips forward slightly, begging with movement rather than words. Thoughts of Mirka, of being discovered, had gone completely and all he could think about was getting Andy’s mouth on bare skin, hot and wet. His nails were practically digging holes in the wall behind him in an attempt to stop him just slamming the American to the floor and fucking him right there.
“Shhh,” Andy breathed against the cotton of his own briefs, damp with arousal and sweat. Roger closed his eyes and tilted his head back, part of his mind reminding him not to bite through his lower lip. As Andy slid the briefs down, Roger’s mouth opened in a silent cry. “Ssshhh,” Andy whispered again, lips brushing the tip of the Swiss’ erection. Roger tried desperately to obey, a tear of effort escaping to trickle hot down his cheek as Andy slid his tongue along the length of him, lightly teasing. By the time the American finally took him into his mouth, the only thing holding him up was Andy’s supporting grip on his thigh.
Andy seemed to have some idea of what he was doing, hollowing his cheeks and rubbing his tongue torturously along the underside of the Swiss’ cock. Roger bit his tongue, his lips, the inside of his cheeks, anything to keep as quiet as he could though he couldn’t hold back a few hissing breaths when Andy’s teeth scraped tender skin. An irrational jealously stabbed through Roger in a brief moment of coherence; Andy must have learned this somewhere which in turn meant he’d done this to someone before, more than once from the feel of it. Roger had the briefest of seconds to indulge the jealousy before Andy did something with his tongue that brought Roger to the edge of crying out and all his effort went into holding it back, with no room for more thought.
There was never any question of it lasting very long; the thrill of possible discovery at any moment combined with Andy’s determined efforts had Roger arching into the American’s mouth in minutes, everything blanking out for several too-short seconds when all that was important was Andy’s mouth, carrying him through orgasm and swallowing around him as he came. Roger kept his teeth gritted through it, holding back the moans that fought hard to escape, even though making a sound now wouldn’t make any difference.
He started to sink to the ground as he came down from the height of it and Andy caught him, holding him up. Roger was only half aware of the American cleaning him up with a fold of his t-shirt, pulling up and fastening his jeans with careful gentleness but he managed a soft noise of appreciation as damp lips brushed the tear stains on his cheek.
“Crybaby,” Andy teased, soft amusement in his tone. “Didn’t know I was that good.”
Roger turned his head without taking his weight off the wall to pull the American into a kiss. The unfamiliar salty tang of come – his own – in Andy’s mouth surprised him enough to hesitate slightly but not to stop. Andy moaned a little as a one slender Swiss hand slid down his chest, but he broke the kiss, stepping back with a hand on Roger’s shoulder to stop him following.
“They’ll be looking for you,” he said reluctantly. “You should go.”
Roger looked at him in disbelief, still trying to catch his breath. He knew this was probably the last time they’d see each other for weeks. “I should at least return the favour-“ he started to insist but Andy shook his head, reaching out to brush tendrils of dark hair out the Swiss’ eyes.
“Call it one you owe me. Besides,” and he leaned in to press another kiss to Roger’s mouth, stubble rough against the Swiss’ lips. “You won the match. It’s only fair.”
“Roger?!” came a call from down the corridor. Both players glanced towards it and Andy hastily stepped to one side, starting to push an unwilling Roger out the alcove.
But-“ the Swiss tried again desperately. “Andy shook his head.
“Go on. They need you to go be Wimbledon Champion again.” A half-bitter, half amused grin flashed across his face. “Maybe next time when I actually beat you, you can show me how much you enjoyed my company today.”
“Andy-“ Roger tried to turn and inadvertently brought their lips together as Andy leaned forward. The kiss was brief and rough, clashing their teeth together. They broke apart for breath and Andy grinned reassuringly as they stood with foreheads touching, arms looped loosely around each other.
“They need you more than I do right now. I’ll see you soon; it’s not exactly like our jobs will keep us apart.” He brushed swollen lips across Roger’s. “Go on love. Shoo.”
Before the Swiss could form another protest he shoved him backwards, with enough force to make Roger stumble out into the corridor. Various noises of surprise and relief came from the group down the hall and Roger barely had time to meet Andy’s eyes in a silent thank you before he turned to greet them with the excuse of needing a moment to himself, stumbling over the words a little and hoping his lips weren’t too swollen or his clothes too creased. The journalists and officials accepted his excuse with a few friendly remarks about it being ‘a long day’ and ‘there’s just a couple more interviews’ before starting to walk again. Mirka was harder to fool; she met his gaze and held it for a long moment, her expression asking a silent question. Roger shook his head and managed a half-smile in response, guilt knotting itself into a cold lump in his chest, getting worse as she smiled back and turned to follow the main group, catching his hand in hers and leading him away. Even through the guilt, even though Mirka was happy and her hand was warm in his, Roger regretted leaving Andy behind. He twisted round for a final look and met the hazel stare, a smile that promised a 'next time' tugging at the corners of the American’s mouth. Roger just managed to smile back before they rounded a corner and Andy vanished from sight.
Next time. He could hardly believe he was already looking forward to it.
~ Fin ~