Anonymous tennis RPS kink meme
May. 23rd, 2009 06:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
louiseluxI stole this idea from many others, but most memorably ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vom_marlowe (from who I quoted these guidelines). This is how it works:
You post –anonymously- a kink request that you’ve always wanted to see. Something you really want but don’t necessarily want to admit to.
Random people come by, read the request, and write a ficlet to order. And post it as a reply to the comment, also anonymously.
Multiple replies (ficlets) to requests are welcome, nay! Encouraged. Also, requesters do not have to say thank you and readers who enjoy the ficlets do not have to provide feedback, but it’s always loved.
About the requests:
A pairing is not enough. Please provide some sort of scenario, kink, detail, situation, that makes it special to you. A handy link to generate ideas should your pervy brain fail you.
About the replies:
If you need to, post “part 1”, “part 2”, etc.
In general:
Play nice. This is all anonymous and I will come down like Rafa on a bad day on anyone being mean.
Feel free to pimp this everywhere you wish.
If you accidentally have yourself signed in, please delete your comment and repost anonymously. If you don’t notice, I will try to do this for you.
Please, no underage characters having sex.
Request! If your request is filled, write another one!
Write! If you find a good prompt, write it, post it, and look for more!
Read! Everyone loves a reader!
I think that covers everything. So! Go forth and kink!
ETA: if you appear to be a troll I will delete your comments.
vom_marlowe (from who I quoted these guidelines). This is how it works: You post –anonymously- a kink request that you’ve always wanted to see. Something you really want but don’t necessarily want to admit to.
Random people come by, read the request, and write a ficlet to order. And post it as a reply to the comment, also anonymously.
Multiple replies (ficlets) to requests are welcome, nay! Encouraged. Also, requesters do not have to say thank you and readers who enjoy the ficlets do not have to provide feedback, but it’s always loved.
About the requests:
A pairing is not enough. Please provide some sort of scenario, kink, detail, situation, that makes it special to you. A handy link to generate ideas should your pervy brain fail you.
About the replies:
If you need to, post “part 1”, “part 2”, etc.
In general:
Play nice. This is all anonymous and I will come down like Rafa on a bad day on anyone being mean.
Feel free to pimp this everywhere you wish.
If you accidentally have yourself signed in, please delete your comment and repost anonymously. If you don’t notice, I will try to do this for you.
Please, no underage characters having sex.
Request! If your request is filled, write another one!
Write! If you find a good prompt, write it, post it, and look for more!
Read! Everyone loves a reader!
I think that covers everything. So! Go forth and kink!
ETA: if you appear to be a troll I will delete your comments.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-24 10:18 pm (UTC)One of Only Two (1/3)
Date: 2009-07-29 08:49 pm (UTC)But half a season past his first Wimbledon win, he wasn't really used to the screaming yet.
More room to work the swing, less distractions. The only other problem, he guessed, was the skin exposed where his shorts dipped low on his waist.
Plyometrics kept him "packed in back, for such a tall slim thing", as a gushing fan once put it - Roger blushed remembering - so they stayed up okay back there.
Peter's new training had broadened his shoulders, but slimmed his hips, so his shorts' waistbands were starting to die a lot after whole matches full of his graceful, relentless movement.
He wasn't going to quit practicing with his shirt off just because the world press tweaked him about the odds of his shorts falling down mid-match. They didn't like his hair either, grooming or ponytail.
He shrugged, shaking its richness from the elastic. He was a tennis player, not a fashion plate. He'd get a belt or something.
Besides, Andre did it.
"You looked really good today."
Roger turned around. He lounged in the doorway, bare-chested, long white shorts, a near-mirror of Roger, just with ten years' more practice honing champion's focus.
I've been working hard on the visualization, but this is ridiculous, Roger thought.
Andre lifted himself out of the doorway but didn't move from the frame till the door swung shut behind him. Roger thought he heard a click. Did he lock it?
He tried not to react as Andre came closer -- smile radiating, soft walk camouflaging genius reflexes, champion's focus beaming out of soft brown eyes, aimed straight at Roger.
Zen rockstar?
Roger called Edberg his idol, but Andre had … something else.
Reflexes like rockets, hair flying behind like afterburners. Tanned, line-engraved muscle, heavy silky body hair in the same places Roger had his. After watching Andre practice, Roger decided it might be okay someday to practice with his shirt off.
He turned half-away, not to be rude, but hopefully far enough that the heavy curtain of his own hair might hide his blush, at least on that side.
"Thanks, Andre. I just try to do my best, you know? And - and live up to, you know, what … what you're doing."
The rocket-head hair was buzzed to near-nothing, but the shave itself had of course been timed for maximum buzz, to draw all focus to, or at least around, Andre. Just like now.
"I think you're the most complete player I've ever seen." Andre kept coming. He didn't make any noise, he focused on nothing but Roger. It made Roger sweat. But that was okay, yes? He'd just stopped practicing. But that was … how long ago was that? He shouldn't still be sweating. So he …
Just shut up, Roger, he told himself. Just don't say anything.
"Ever watched." Andre's attention and voice poured over Roger.
Roger tried to keep the surprise off his face, but kind of made a mess of it.
"Sure I've watched you." Andre lowered his voice and, for a minute, his eyes. "I think you watch me too, once in a while."
Roger did. Especially if they might be playing each other in a tournament. He watched, mesmerized, from streams of glances to just shy of plain ogling, till he forced himself to quit so as not to get caught staring -- which, he guessed now, hadn't worked that well.
Andre looked back at Roger again, full-on. "You know you're good." He put a hand on Roger's shoulder by his neck, man-to-man, then lifted two fingers to push back - again - again - the long thick swatch of Roger's hair that kept falling in his face.
Roger swallowed, changing colors again. He hoped his beard hid it -- he mostly didn't think about shaving at tournament till his first match -- but he figured it didn't, especially with Andre stroking his hair out of his face. His heart was thudding, like he hadn't been off court for at least half an hour. "I can swing a racquet."
Andre slid his hand down from Roger's shoulder, rested it at his waist. It was another kind of older-to-younger-brother gesture, except there was a kneading pressure on the muscle that surprised Roger. Not exactly, um, brotherly.
One of Only Two (2/3)
Date: 2009-07-29 08:53 pm (UTC)He spoke again with his attention still anchored there.
"I think you know - we both know - you're a little better than that."
Roger didn't answer. He couldn't move. Not the voluntary muscle systems anyway -- autonomic ones were kicking up hard. Blood rushed through his head, past his throat, down through his midsection, stopping just above his crotch, the outside of which Andre was framing with his fingers in the crease of Roger's thigh, even though the exact moment Andre's hand had skimmed from his waist down to his leg had kind of blown by him. Damn reflexes. Roger couldn't stop the thigh muscle Andre was -- stroking, Jesus -- from twitching underneath his fingers. Was he … afraid … to move?
Did he not want to?
There was a thick silence.
Then Andre said something that flooded more heat between Roger's legs. Roger blushed fiercely; he knew Andre had to have felt the … but it seemed Andre not only welcomed it, but wanted it, because his smile lifted the corners of his eyes again and he put his hand right over the steadily increasing bulge in Roger's shorts as he spoke.
"You're going to beat me someday."
Roger's whole groin pulsed. The shaft of his cock swelled.
"Maybe soon."
Roger didn't know what shocked him most: what Andre said, or his own reaction to it -- fast getting warmer, wetter, harder -- or Andre's reaction to his reaction, which … Roger sucked his breath in sharply. Ohhhhhgod. He grabbed tight handfuls of his shorts in back, trying to hide how desperate his arousal already felt.
"You like the thought of that." Andre smiled as Roger's full hardness expanded under his hand. He massaged Roger's erection under his shorts until Roger's hips jerked forward and he was grinding against Andre's palm. Andre wet his lips, watching him grind, then ran his hand under Roger's waistband, into his briefs, curling his fingers around the smooth, bare skin of Roger's cock before Roger could unlock his brain.
"Someday I'm going to be standing on a Grand Slam podium." Andre started to jerk him, firmly, slowly. Roger choked back a moan. Another slipped out behind a low German curse as Andre slipped just the head of Roger's cock back and forth through his thumb and index finger, teasing, spreading fluid from its tip all down his shaft. Roger cursed again. "I'm going to be holding a trophy. I'll be wearing a suit, instead of tennis gear. Armani, I think. I think you like that." Andre closed his hand around Roger again, sliding down and up and over and back down his erection. Roger grit his teeth, flexing and clenching as Andre rubbed and pushed, squeezed and stroked, matching and then forcing Roger's rhythms.
One of Only Two (3/3)
Date: 2009-07-29 08:56 pm (UTC)The only sounds other than Roger's frantic ones were a distant shower's drip, the occasional locker's squeak-thump if one of their hips went too far back against it, and Andre's low appreciative noises as Roger twisted and bucked under his hands. Roger felt like a train was careening through his head, all roaring noise and flashing lights.
"And I'm gonna put my hand here …" Andre reached around, a light sheen of his chest's sweat melting on Roger's arm, and slipped his other hand in the back of Roger's underwear, palming and squeezing his ass, one finger stroked down its center, pumping in a counterrhythm to the hand on Roger's cock that made Roger want to jump straight up and hang from the ceiling, shouting -- "… with at least one thumb in that crazy dimple your muscles make -- you are fucking amazing, Roger, you don't know how beautiful you are, really -- help you get off the podium …" Andre twisted his wrist light and fast as he said get off, and Roger just gasped because he didn't have much breath left to do anything else.
He was panting now, biting back wilder noises. He rocked his hips crazily and pushed himself even faster through Andre's fist.
"And I'll be able to do that," Andre went on, "because I'm the first Grand Slam holder of the three-surface era, out of only two, giving you your trophy --" harder, faster, rougher -- "and nobody will be able to do anything to you ever again that you don’t let them do -- because you'll be the other one."
Roger felt the world tilt.
"And you'll think about this, and how far you've come."
Roger did come then. He spurted over Andre's hand, wetness searing the front of his whites.
Andre's chest rose and fell a little faster when Roger started to orgasm. He kept his hand firmly around Roger's cock as he arched and spilled and flowed and shuddered, watching Roger and his body react to what he was doing, never taking his eyes from him, smiling almost the whole time.
He took out a spotless handkerchief from somewhere and started to daub Roger's face as he finished, moving over the muscles on his chest, brushing Roger's nipples lightly, making him shiver through the aftershocks, soaking up light sweat from his ribs, and, after licking splashes of Roger's come from his own hand, he gently wiped the most visible moisture from between Roger's legs.
Handkerchief, Roger thought, with his first bare returns of full breath and conscious thought. Did he plan this??
Finished, Andre smiled. He straightened up, ran a hand through Roger's hair and kissed him once on each cheek, barely missing either side of his mouth.
"So now you have something to look forward to."
Roger touched a still slightly shaking hand briefly to his mouth, caught a faint lingering taste of himself.
Andre adjusted himself -- baggy shorts folding, somehow very fortunately, to hide his own erection, and a small damp spreading spot -- and backed away from Roger. "It's very cool to know what turns you on," he said softly. "I think I'm gonna go appreciate it in private." He didn't turn and walk out, just kept backing, eyes still caressing Roger's face.
"If there are more things you think you want to learn to … control …" Still so soft. "You should come see me if you want. I think I can find time for a private session or two … or thirty. Or three hundred."
He paused, hand on the door, Vegas fireworks show and gracious international champion nicely balanced, all in place. "Good luck with the tournament. I know how much they love you here in Asia."
Then he left.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Picture that, with prompt, inspired your story.
Re: One of Only Two (3/3)
Date: 2009-07-30 03:31 am (UTC)Re: One of Only Two (3/3)
Date: 2009-07-31 07:35 pm (UTC)When I saw the prompt I thought "Requester *must* have seen those pictures of them at RG."
<3