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Entry tags:
Tennis rps fic: Tied up too tight, Roger/Rafa, NC17
Title: Tied up too tight
Fandom: tennis rps
Pairing: Rafa/Roger
Warnings: explicit m/m, not worksafe
Notes: this fic really came about because of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
buckle_berry, who was very inspiring about how Rafa should have his hands tied behind his back. All right, and I really wanted to write some porn to help blot out the remaining tennis-angst. I think it helped. Thanks also to Berry for the beta. Feedback and comments are loved a lot.
He recognised the knock on the door. He'd been waiting for it, knowing it would come soon. It didn't explain the hot jolt in his stomach and his heart. He switched off the TV, got up, wiped his palms on his jeans, and hurried over. The doorknob slid in his palm and it seemed to take forever to get the damn thing open. When he did, Roger was standing in the hall, smiling at him.
"Roger."
"Got bored, you know?" Roger said, and came straight in. He'd been downstairs at a PR event in the hotel ballroom. Rafa knew that because Roger had called him about two hours ago. Roger pushed the door shut behind him and leaned on it for a moment, looking Rafa up and down. His smile went away. "Thought I'd come and say hi."
"Yeah? I happy you come." It was getting hard to control his breathing.
Roger pushed himself upright and came close; it only took two steps. He slid his hands straight under Rafa's t-shirt, pushing it up and up, barely waiting for Rafa to raise his arms before dragging it over Rafa's head.
"I can make you happier," Roger said, and leaned in to kiss him, backing him against the wall. His tongue was slick and hot when it pushed into Rafa's mouth. His fingers curled into Rafa's hair
"Oh god," Rafa mumbled.
The fabric of Roger's suit was smooth and cool as he put his arms around Roger's neck and clung on. Roger stroked down his back, pulling him close, then began to unbutton Rafa's jeans. Roger smelled good, faintly of aftershave and soap. The collar of his shirt was sharp and crisp, like it was new.
"Take them off," Roger said. "Turn around." When he did, kicking them off and turning to face the wall, Roger lifted his hair and kissed the back of his neck. His teeth grazed softly. "Hands, Rafa."
Rafa's arms shook as he brought them together at the small of his back. Roger wound something around his wrists, tight enough to bite softly with rough edges. Rafa guessed what it was straight away, from the familiar rattle of the plastic loop – Roger's tournament ID tag. Looking down at his own body, totally excited, knees like water, breathing almost out of control, he swallowed hard. Roger gave a tug on his wrists, but he didn't need to say anything else. Rafa just knew.
Rafa turned and knelt, going down carefully so he didn't overbalance, but it still felt like he dropped like a stone, too eager, too ready to please. He was. He was so ready. It was all curled tight in him, waiting to go. He watched as Roger unzipped himself, the dark thin fabric falling open and sagging down under the weight of Roger's belt to show bare skin, bare – everything. He was hard. He smelled clean, and this close Rafa could see fine wrinkles in soft skin, the exact curl of dark hair, how the top of his thighs were paler than his stomach. He pressed his mouth to Roger's thigh, licking, hardly thinking of anything but the way Roger was touching his hair, his fingers stroking very softly at the nape of Rafa's neck.
Rafa waited, even if it was almost impossible. Roger had walked away and left him like this before now, and he didn't want it to happen again.
"Roger," he said, pressing his nose to that place on Roger's hip where the bone was sharp. He kissed it and heard Roger make a faint sound. The wet, hard head of Roger's cock slid along his jaw and then Roger began to stroke himself, one hand braced on the wall high up behind Rafa's head, the other moving slowly and sensuously. Roger was looking down, watching his face, and Rafa opened his mouth. Roger's eyes fluttered closed for a second, before they were open again, fixed and intent. He guided the head of his cock between Rafa's lips, pushing in, stretching his mouth.
"I don't even need to ask, do I?" Roger said, under his breath. "The answer's always yes."
He stepped forward, not waiting for Rafa to adjust, so that Rafa had to slide back on his knees until his feet were pressed against painted wood and plaster and his jaw was hanging open. Roger was just there, hot and big in his mouth, deep in his mouth. He tried to curl his tongue up to lick, and moaned wordlessly as Roger pulled out and pushed in again. Behind his back his fingertips slid against the cool plaster, and the plastic tag dug into his palm.
Roger began to move slow and steady, just like he did when he fucked Rafa, when Rafa was bent over and face down on the bed or the floor, or the sofa. Same rhythm, same pace, the same beautiful confidence in each movement. Rafa shifted on his knees, tilted his jaw, hoped it was good enough for Roger even as he tried to get a breath. His mouth was too wet, stretched too wide, and now drool began to run down his chin. Blood throbbed in Rafa's ears as he gazed up. Roger's face—small white teeth biting into his lower lip, eyes sliding closed, then flicking open fast like he didn't want to miss anything. Roger made a low moan, so charged with lust that Rafa's skin heated, and moved a hand to cup the back of Rafa's neck.
"God, fuck yeah," he said, his hips flexing forwards, thighs solid. He gathered up a handful of hair at the back of Rafa's neck. "I'll let you drink it this time," he said, slowly, in time with his thrusts.
Rafa couldn't stop the sounds he made. He hoped there was no one near the door out there. There was a sudden slick of bitterness and salt on Rafa's tongue. He tightened his lips, wanting to make it good, wanting to make it good so much. His muscles were tight everywhere. Between his spread thighs, Roger's calf pressed there almost as an afterthought. Rafa tried to push against hard muscle, squirming even as Roger gripped him and pulled him in. His thrusts grew erratic, sliding over Rafa's tongue.
"Rafa," he gasped, almost sobbed, bending nearly double. Come was in his mouth, sliding down his throat. Rafa fell back, gasping, enough to catch the last thick spurt across his mouth. It flicked across his lower lip and along his jaw, small spots landing on his collarbone. When he licked at it with the tip of his tongue, Roger's breathing hitched. He stroked strands of Rafa's hair from his face and stood above him, looking down. He touched Rafa's shoulders, caressing them, and the tops of his arms, fingers running over the curves of muscle again and again. Rafa wondered if they should talk more, but there was a lot of communication happening just between their eyes – maybe almost too much. He was so naked down here, like this, and Roger was gazing at him just like – just like he was completely in love with Rafa. He hardly had even a hair out of place though.
Rafa's chest felt tight, and he could feel the semen drying on his face, thick and sticky. It was in his hair as well, he could leave it there, let it dry, walk around like that… He leaned forward and pressed his sticky lips to Roger's wrist, to the skin-warmed metal of the Rolex, to the edge of his shirt cuff and the discreet glint of his silver cufflink. Roger nudged his leg between Rafa's thighs.
"How are you going to get off?" Roger asked. His voice sounded almost back to normal now, deceptively gentle. "Like this?"
"Si," said Rafa. "Like this." He pressed his mouth to Roger's softening cock and closed his eyes, letting his hips move how they wanted, even if it made him blush all over. Roger pushed his leg forward, pressing hard, almost too hard. Rafa moaned, harsh and desperate.
"Oh, God," Roger murmured. He slid his fingers through the smears on Rafa's jaw and neck, pushing it across his skin. "You just let me fuck your mouth. I love to have you like this. On your knees. Your hands tied."
His cock ached, sliding against the cloth and, under that, the solid line of Roger's calf. Under his balls, there was a cool, smooth touch of Roger's polished leather shoe. His balls clenched tight and he heard himself grunt. He pushed his hips forward in tiny thrusts. It was enough, it was just enough – Roger tugged on a handful of his hair, pulling his head back. Rafa opened his eyes and saw that exact same look of intense concentration that he'd had before. He was looking down between Rafa's straining thighs.
"Whore," Roger said, softly. "You'll do anything."
It had been many years since he'd come like this, with no hands or mouth or anything else, just pressure. He twisted his hands against the bindings, fingers knotting as his hips jerked up and release twisted through him, leaving him breathless and open- mouthed, shoulders tight to the wall and his back arched. He moaned over and over, louder than he usually did, maybe a little on purpose to make sure Roger knew that he liked it. Roger leaned down to kiss him while he was still panting, pushing his tongue into Rafa's mouth, going deep like he wanted to lick out the taste of himself.
"You made a mess, Rafael," he said, and he straightened, unfolding slowly. "I'm going to have to ask you to clean that up." There were white streaks on the toe of his shoe. "I have to go back down there soon."
He was so perfect. Rafa tipped forward, not caring that he'd overbalance, or that his knees were aching. Distantly, he thought the sounds coming out of his own mouth might be a bit much. He knew he got into this a little too much, everything they did. But it was Roger, and Roger was irresistible. It wasn't entirely normal, he knew. He just didn't care. The tang of the shoe leather flooded his tongue and all around him and above the air was still and quiet, for many minutes it seemed, until he felt Roger's hand under his elbow, warm and strong and tugging him up.
Roger helped him stand, and kissed him, and put both arms round him to untie the knots in the ID tag.
"I really do have to go back soon," he said, as Rafa pressed his face against Roger's neck. His voice wasn't steady and the vein in his throat was still pulsing quickly, like he hadn't calmed down at all. Rafa kissed it, sucking a little, and smiled to himself.
"Okay," he mumbled, and sighed as Roger smoothed his palms over his wrists, rubbing away the soreness.
Roger kissed his jaw and his cheek, working his way to Rafa's mouth. "You taste strange now." he said. And then, "When can we do this again?"
"I don't know, no?" Rafa said, pushing away from the wall and walking Roger backwards towards the bed. He dug his fingers into Roger's hair and kissed him hard, pushing him down and rolling half on top of him until they were a tangle of bare skin and clothes. The side of Roger's shoe knocked against Rafa's ankle. It made him shiver. "Don't know. Whenever you say. You say to me, I do it."
"Okay," Roger said. His mouth curled in a smile, flashing teeth. Roger's expensive and beautiful suit was getting spoiled, probably, but Roger didn't appear to care. He was sprawled under Rafa, playing with a lock of Rafa's hair, curling it tight around one finger. "I'll remind you of that."
They touched noses. "What you gonna do now?" Rafa said. "Tomorrow?"
"Go back down, collect Mirka, say goodbye, get driven back to the hotel," Roger said. Rafa rolled off and laid his head on the pillow, to listen better. "Maybe watch some reruns of matches."
"Tch, no. Get your–" he stopped, remembering that Roger didn't have a coach to watch matches for him.
"Sleep for eight hours, wake up, go to the bathroom, wash, dress, eat–"
"Okay, okay, shut up." But he didn't want Roger to shut up at all.
"Maybe I'll even play some tennis. I don't know, what do you think?" He caught Rafa's hand in a sudden tight grip. Their hands wavered in the air above Roger's chest, clasped hard, until Roger squeezed and let go. "And figure out a way to see you again."
Fandom: tennis rps
Pairing: Rafa/Roger
Warnings: explicit m/m, not worksafe
Notes: this fic really came about because of
buckle_berry, who was very inspiring about how Rafa should have his hands tied behind his back. All right, and I really wanted to write some porn to help blot out the remaining tennis-angst. I think it helped. Thanks also to Berry for the beta. Feedback and comments are loved a lot.He recognised the knock on the door. He'd been waiting for it, knowing it would come soon. It didn't explain the hot jolt in his stomach and his heart. He switched off the TV, got up, wiped his palms on his jeans, and hurried over. The doorknob slid in his palm and it seemed to take forever to get the damn thing open. When he did, Roger was standing in the hall, smiling at him.
"Roger."
"Got bored, you know?" Roger said, and came straight in. He'd been downstairs at a PR event in the hotel ballroom. Rafa knew that because Roger had called him about two hours ago. Roger pushed the door shut behind him and leaned on it for a moment, looking Rafa up and down. His smile went away. "Thought I'd come and say hi."
"Yeah? I happy you come." It was getting hard to control his breathing.
Roger pushed himself upright and came close; it only took two steps. He slid his hands straight under Rafa's t-shirt, pushing it up and up, barely waiting for Rafa to raise his arms before dragging it over Rafa's head.
"I can make you happier," Roger said, and leaned in to kiss him, backing him against the wall. His tongue was slick and hot when it pushed into Rafa's mouth. His fingers curled into Rafa's hair
"Oh god," Rafa mumbled.
The fabric of Roger's suit was smooth and cool as he put his arms around Roger's neck and clung on. Roger stroked down his back, pulling him close, then began to unbutton Rafa's jeans. Roger smelled good, faintly of aftershave and soap. The collar of his shirt was sharp and crisp, like it was new.
"Take them off," Roger said. "Turn around." When he did, kicking them off and turning to face the wall, Roger lifted his hair and kissed the back of his neck. His teeth grazed softly. "Hands, Rafa."
Rafa's arms shook as he brought them together at the small of his back. Roger wound something around his wrists, tight enough to bite softly with rough edges. Rafa guessed what it was straight away, from the familiar rattle of the plastic loop – Roger's tournament ID tag. Looking down at his own body, totally excited, knees like water, breathing almost out of control, he swallowed hard. Roger gave a tug on his wrists, but he didn't need to say anything else. Rafa just knew.
Rafa turned and knelt, going down carefully so he didn't overbalance, but it still felt like he dropped like a stone, too eager, too ready to please. He was. He was so ready. It was all curled tight in him, waiting to go. He watched as Roger unzipped himself, the dark thin fabric falling open and sagging down under the weight of Roger's belt to show bare skin, bare – everything. He was hard. He smelled clean, and this close Rafa could see fine wrinkles in soft skin, the exact curl of dark hair, how the top of his thighs were paler than his stomach. He pressed his mouth to Roger's thigh, licking, hardly thinking of anything but the way Roger was touching his hair, his fingers stroking very softly at the nape of Rafa's neck.
Rafa waited, even if it was almost impossible. Roger had walked away and left him like this before now, and he didn't want it to happen again.
"Roger," he said, pressing his nose to that place on Roger's hip where the bone was sharp. He kissed it and heard Roger make a faint sound. The wet, hard head of Roger's cock slid along his jaw and then Roger began to stroke himself, one hand braced on the wall high up behind Rafa's head, the other moving slowly and sensuously. Roger was looking down, watching his face, and Rafa opened his mouth. Roger's eyes fluttered closed for a second, before they were open again, fixed and intent. He guided the head of his cock between Rafa's lips, pushing in, stretching his mouth.
"I don't even need to ask, do I?" Roger said, under his breath. "The answer's always yes."
He stepped forward, not waiting for Rafa to adjust, so that Rafa had to slide back on his knees until his feet were pressed against painted wood and plaster and his jaw was hanging open. Roger was just there, hot and big in his mouth, deep in his mouth. He tried to curl his tongue up to lick, and moaned wordlessly as Roger pulled out and pushed in again. Behind his back his fingertips slid against the cool plaster, and the plastic tag dug into his palm.
Roger began to move slow and steady, just like he did when he fucked Rafa, when Rafa was bent over and face down on the bed or the floor, or the sofa. Same rhythm, same pace, the same beautiful confidence in each movement. Rafa shifted on his knees, tilted his jaw, hoped it was good enough for Roger even as he tried to get a breath. His mouth was too wet, stretched too wide, and now drool began to run down his chin. Blood throbbed in Rafa's ears as he gazed up. Roger's face—small white teeth biting into his lower lip, eyes sliding closed, then flicking open fast like he didn't want to miss anything. Roger made a low moan, so charged with lust that Rafa's skin heated, and moved a hand to cup the back of Rafa's neck.
"God, fuck yeah," he said, his hips flexing forwards, thighs solid. He gathered up a handful of hair at the back of Rafa's neck. "I'll let you drink it this time," he said, slowly, in time with his thrusts.
Rafa couldn't stop the sounds he made. He hoped there was no one near the door out there. There was a sudden slick of bitterness and salt on Rafa's tongue. He tightened his lips, wanting to make it good, wanting to make it good so much. His muscles were tight everywhere. Between his spread thighs, Roger's calf pressed there almost as an afterthought. Rafa tried to push against hard muscle, squirming even as Roger gripped him and pulled him in. His thrusts grew erratic, sliding over Rafa's tongue.
"Rafa," he gasped, almost sobbed, bending nearly double. Come was in his mouth, sliding down his throat. Rafa fell back, gasping, enough to catch the last thick spurt across his mouth. It flicked across his lower lip and along his jaw, small spots landing on his collarbone. When he licked at it with the tip of his tongue, Roger's breathing hitched. He stroked strands of Rafa's hair from his face and stood above him, looking down. He touched Rafa's shoulders, caressing them, and the tops of his arms, fingers running over the curves of muscle again and again. Rafa wondered if they should talk more, but there was a lot of communication happening just between their eyes – maybe almost too much. He was so naked down here, like this, and Roger was gazing at him just like – just like he was completely in love with Rafa. He hardly had even a hair out of place though.
Rafa's chest felt tight, and he could feel the semen drying on his face, thick and sticky. It was in his hair as well, he could leave it there, let it dry, walk around like that… He leaned forward and pressed his sticky lips to Roger's wrist, to the skin-warmed metal of the Rolex, to the edge of his shirt cuff and the discreet glint of his silver cufflink. Roger nudged his leg between Rafa's thighs.
"How are you going to get off?" Roger asked. His voice sounded almost back to normal now, deceptively gentle. "Like this?"
"Si," said Rafa. "Like this." He pressed his mouth to Roger's softening cock and closed his eyes, letting his hips move how they wanted, even if it made him blush all over. Roger pushed his leg forward, pressing hard, almost too hard. Rafa moaned, harsh and desperate.
"Oh, God," Roger murmured. He slid his fingers through the smears on Rafa's jaw and neck, pushing it across his skin. "You just let me fuck your mouth. I love to have you like this. On your knees. Your hands tied."
His cock ached, sliding against the cloth and, under that, the solid line of Roger's calf. Under his balls, there was a cool, smooth touch of Roger's polished leather shoe. His balls clenched tight and he heard himself grunt. He pushed his hips forward in tiny thrusts. It was enough, it was just enough – Roger tugged on a handful of his hair, pulling his head back. Rafa opened his eyes and saw that exact same look of intense concentration that he'd had before. He was looking down between Rafa's straining thighs.
"Whore," Roger said, softly. "You'll do anything."
It had been many years since he'd come like this, with no hands or mouth or anything else, just pressure. He twisted his hands against the bindings, fingers knotting as his hips jerked up and release twisted through him, leaving him breathless and open- mouthed, shoulders tight to the wall and his back arched. He moaned over and over, louder than he usually did, maybe a little on purpose to make sure Roger knew that he liked it. Roger leaned down to kiss him while he was still panting, pushing his tongue into Rafa's mouth, going deep like he wanted to lick out the taste of himself.
"You made a mess, Rafael," he said, and he straightened, unfolding slowly. "I'm going to have to ask you to clean that up." There were white streaks on the toe of his shoe. "I have to go back down there soon."
He was so perfect. Rafa tipped forward, not caring that he'd overbalance, or that his knees were aching. Distantly, he thought the sounds coming out of his own mouth might be a bit much. He knew he got into this a little too much, everything they did. But it was Roger, and Roger was irresistible. It wasn't entirely normal, he knew. He just didn't care. The tang of the shoe leather flooded his tongue and all around him and above the air was still and quiet, for many minutes it seemed, until he felt Roger's hand under his elbow, warm and strong and tugging him up.
Roger helped him stand, and kissed him, and put both arms round him to untie the knots in the ID tag.
"I really do have to go back soon," he said, as Rafa pressed his face against Roger's neck. His voice wasn't steady and the vein in his throat was still pulsing quickly, like he hadn't calmed down at all. Rafa kissed it, sucking a little, and smiled to himself.
"Okay," he mumbled, and sighed as Roger smoothed his palms over his wrists, rubbing away the soreness.
Roger kissed his jaw and his cheek, working his way to Rafa's mouth. "You taste strange now." he said. And then, "When can we do this again?"
"I don't know, no?" Rafa said, pushing away from the wall and walking Roger backwards towards the bed. He dug his fingers into Roger's hair and kissed him hard, pushing him down and rolling half on top of him until they were a tangle of bare skin and clothes. The side of Roger's shoe knocked against Rafa's ankle. It made him shiver. "Don't know. Whenever you say. You say to me, I do it."
"Okay," Roger said. His mouth curled in a smile, flashing teeth. Roger's expensive and beautiful suit was getting spoiled, probably, but Roger didn't appear to care. He was sprawled under Rafa, playing with a lock of Rafa's hair, curling it tight around one finger. "I'll remind you of that."
They touched noses. "What you gonna do now?" Rafa said. "Tomorrow?"
"Go back down, collect Mirka, say goodbye, get driven back to the hotel," Roger said. Rafa rolled off and laid his head on the pillow, to listen better. "Maybe watch some reruns of matches."
"Tch, no. Get your–" he stopped, remembering that Roger didn't have a coach to watch matches for him.
"Sleep for eight hours, wake up, go to the bathroom, wash, dress, eat–"
"Okay, okay, shut up." But he didn't want Roger to shut up at all.
"Maybe I'll even play some tennis. I don't know, what do you think?" He caught Rafa's hand in a sudden tight grip. Their hands wavered in the air above Roger's chest, clasped hard, until Roger squeezed and let go. "And figure out a way to see you again."
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*bows down before you*
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That's about it.
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That was incredible HOT!! Hottest fedal fic I've read I think. Direct to memories, thanks thanks for writing and sharing :D
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I'm mesmerised by your icon.
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Beautifully written and very powerful.
*raises hat to louiselux*
*goes to have a long lie down, and think bad thoughts, and do bad things*
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I'm really glad you liked it-- it probably is a little disturbing on some levels, but I'm glad in a good way. I think I made this quite intense and it's because I see them as very intense people, under their public personas.
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It was whoa to the max. ♥ Thanks for sharing :)
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*sigh* it is so satisfying to me that you mix their vulnerability so easily with the totally full-on sex. this fic is just the hottest forever. <3
also, happy birthday, loveliest!
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*thud*
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And have a very happy birthday! I hope you have a fantastic day :D
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ps I adore your icon. Roger is just so pretty.
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Also OMGHOT. I've been off LJ so long, I didn't even know you wrote Fedal fics!! That was just supremely awesome :D
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...Also I might just have to steal your icon concept and make one for Rogelio.
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wow that was seriously hot! I loved it! XD xx
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Hope you had a great day, Happy Birthday!
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too hot. no words.
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You have perfected that art of writing sex scene with great emotional weight. I hope I made myself clear there. I love this work.
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