Here there be smut...
Dec. 23rd, 2004 03:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clo_againMy first tennis slash smut I think. Hhmm. Anyway this is ficlet O - I'm too lazy/tired/sleepy right now to go back and add it to the original post. I'll do it tomorrow.
Title: Tennis Slash Ficlet O
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roddick/Federer/Fish
Summary: See other tennis drabbles.
Notes:Christmassy smut, probably in dire need of editing since I'm too asleep to do it. Incidently, eggnog *does* comes from Europe.
~ O ~
Christmas is being with the people you love. It’s also about the bright lights and presents and too much chocolate of course, I’d never dare suggest anything else in hearing range of Andy but deep down, those things don’t seem to matter so much. Not when I’m curled around Roger on Andy’s couch, half listening to the pair of them argue about, of all things, eggnog.
“It’s American,” Andy yells from the kitchen where he’s making popcorn. Roger lifts his head sleepily from my shoulder, soft curls tickling my bare skin. We’d all lost our shirts some time ago at Andy’s insistence and I’m enjoying the feel of semi-naked Roger snuggled against me. I reach up to lazily tangle my fingers in his dark hair as he looks towards the open kitchen door.
“It actually came from Europe,” he calls. We both hear Andy’s snort of disbelief and exchange amused glances.
“You won’t get him to admit he’s wrong,” I murmur, bending my head to press a kiss to his forehead. He wriggles himself into a better position so he can kiss me on the lips and I can taste the whiskey he’s been drinking, sharp and delicious and I pull him closer, following the taste with my tongue. There’s a soft sound from the kitchen door and we break apart to see Andy, leaning against the doorframe and watching us with a smile that fades when he realises he’s been spotted.
“Don’t stop,” he complains. “I thought Christmas had come early.”
I laugh. “You’ll get your present at midnight and not before brat,” I tease and Roger grins, knowing exactly what we’ve got planned for later. Andy pouts as he crosses the room to the couch and drops down on the other side of Roger, hugging the popcorn to his chest.
“If I don’t get a present, you don’t get the popcorn,” he threatens hopefully. I trade grins with Roger and we pounce, everything descending into a chaos of flying cushions, popcorn and yells of outrage for a minute. Andy emerges flushed but triumphant, sitting across Roger’s thighs while I’m half trapped between the Swiss and the arm of the couch, reaching helplessly for the bowl Andy holds above his head.
“Present!” he demands gleefully, moving it just out of reach of my outstretched hand. Roger struggles ineffectually to sit up but Andy puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him down. “Or if not a present then I want Roger to admit he’s wrong about eggnog.”
“But-!” Roger starts to protest. Andy shakes the bowl warningly.
“Admit I’m right!” he insists, grinning. Roger glares up at him and I recognise the look that flashes across the Swiss’ face. It’s the look that means nothing, not torture or persuasion or bribery, will get him to back down. Andy sees it too and lifts an eyebrow, smirking.
“Oh, so it’s going to be like that is it?” He leans over to put the bowl down on the coffee table, evading my futile grab for it with ease. “What do you want to bet I can persuade you to admit I’m right?”
Roger tries again to sit up but only succeeds in making me gasp as he inadvertently presses back between my legs which are currently tangled around his waist after the popcorn-fight. A specific part of my anatomy is abruptly very interested and I bite my lip, meeting Andy’s eyes as he smiles suggestively.
“Mardy thinks I should try to persuade you,” he says softly. “Don’t you Fish?” My eyes track his hands as they slide with deliberate slowness up Roger’s thighs towards the top of his jeans, pausing pointedly when he reaches the zip. My moan echoes Roger’s.
“So?” Andy asks wickedly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles around the swiftly-growing bulge in Roger’s jeans. I can feel the Swiss trembling against me and know what Andy’s doing must be driving him crazy - it’s affecting me enough and I’m only watching. “Am I right?”
His hand slows, presses down harder and I can feel it in the way Roger arcs back against me with a choked gasp, his eyes screwed shut and hair falling across his face. I wrap a supporting arm around his waist and grind my hips against him, desperate for any sort of touch at this point. A choked cry escapes Roger, trapped between the two of us and unable to move unless we let him which, right now, isn’t high on our list of options. I tilt his head back to kiss him as Andy makes short work of his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them impatiently down. Roger makes a soft noise of desperation and kisses me harder.
“Roger?” Andy asks breathlessly, waiting for me to break the kiss so Roger can look at him. The Swiss lifts his head just slightly and I steal the chance to reach across to the coffee table and grab his forgotten glass of whiskey without him noticing. Andy slides forward to kiss Roger himself and the Swiss moans. I shiver at the sound, taking a sip of whiskey and wincing when it burns all the way down.
“Ready to admit defeat yet?” Andy breathes, leaning back a little. Roger can’t seem to speak but the determined shake of his head makes Andy’s grin widen. He sits back and slides all the way down, taking Roger’s briefs with him. The Swiss starts to look down to see what he’s doing but a quick glance from Andy begs me for a distraction. I gulp the whiskey which burns my tongue as I hold it in my mouth, pull Roger’s head back and kiss him, fiery whiskey and tongues and Roger’s half-scream as Andy’s mouth closes over his cock. The sounds and the alcohol make me dizzy as I tighten my grip on a shaking Roger, swallowing the last of the whiskey in my mouth so I can soften the kiss. This wasn’t supposed to happen until after midnight, but since it’s Christmas Eve, I guess Andy decided Roger could have his present early. I’m not arguing – it means I’ve still got whatever they’re planning to ‘give’ me to look forward to.
Roger’s writhing under Andy’s practiced mouth and I gasp as he grinds back, sending pleasure spiking through me. There’s no way I can touch myself; Roger’s on top of me and Andy’s pushing him down, both of them too engaged in what they’re doing to help me out. I push my hips up against Roger and somehow he understands, pressing back against me as Andy moves up a gear, his hand on Roger’s thigh gripping tight enough to leave bruises. I can feel that Roger’s close and force myself to take a deep breath, taking another mouthful of whiskey from the glass clenched tight enough to break in my hand as I lean down. Roger moans as the whiskey floods his mouth and I swallow hastily when I feel him go tense, wanting to give him room to breathe when he comes. He cries out in protest a second later as Andy sits up, leaving him begging for release in a mixture of German, English and what sounds like some very rude French. I glare at Andy, flushed and smirking.
“For fuck’s sake Andy, do you want to kill him?”
“Am I right?” Andy demands, a little hoarsely. Roger falls silent, gritting his teeth and I stroke the dark hair back from his face, damp with sweat. “Am I?”
“Ja, yes! Please!” Roger bucks his hips up, begging and I press a kiss to his hair, whispering soothing nonsense. “Please… Andy…”
Having won the argument – though I’m fairly sure not the war – Andy ducks back down again, moving fast in a tacit apology for making Roger beg, blond head beautifully golden against the darker coffee-brown of the Swiss’ skin. I’m still admiring the sight when Roger goes tense, arcing back against me with a choked cry as he finally comes, Andy swallowing with the ease of long practise and bringing him down gently, eventually sliding off with a softly wet pop.
There’s a brief silence as we all wind down, Roger’s breathing slowing as he turns on his side, eyes still closed as he uses my chest as a pillow. Andy looks a little guilty as he reaches out to run a hand through the Swiss’ dark curls.
“Rog?” he says quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Shut up.” Roger sounds amused, if still a little out of breath. “I should argue with you more often if that’s how you try to win.”
Andy looks up at me, surprise and relief in his smile. I try to smile back but Roger’s still between my legs and it’s doing nothing to diminish my erection. Andy glances down and when he spots the problem his smile turns wicked.
“Hey Roger?” he asks. “You feel up to some more early present-giving?”
Roger looks up at him then at me, his smile widening into a grin as he realises what Andy means. I open my mouth for a half hearted protest before I’m pinned back against the cushions and Andy’s kissing me, the salty tang of Roger still lingering in his mouth. I decide it’s not worth struggling and kiss him back.
After all, Roger had his present early. It's only fair I get to have mine too.
~Fin~
I am so going to bed now. *flops*
Title: Tennis Slash Ficlet O
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roddick/Federer/Fish
Summary: See other tennis drabbles.
Notes:Christmassy smut, probably in dire need of editing since I'm too asleep to do it. Incidently, eggnog *does* comes from Europe.
~ O ~
Christmas is being with the people you love. It’s also about the bright lights and presents and too much chocolate of course, I’d never dare suggest anything else in hearing range of Andy but deep down, those things don’t seem to matter so much. Not when I’m curled around Roger on Andy’s couch, half listening to the pair of them argue about, of all things, eggnog.
“It’s American,” Andy yells from the kitchen where he’s making popcorn. Roger lifts his head sleepily from my shoulder, soft curls tickling my bare skin. We’d all lost our shirts some time ago at Andy’s insistence and I’m enjoying the feel of semi-naked Roger snuggled against me. I reach up to lazily tangle my fingers in his dark hair as he looks towards the open kitchen door.
“It actually came from Europe,” he calls. We both hear Andy’s snort of disbelief and exchange amused glances.
“You won’t get him to admit he’s wrong,” I murmur, bending my head to press a kiss to his forehead. He wriggles himself into a better position so he can kiss me on the lips and I can taste the whiskey he’s been drinking, sharp and delicious and I pull him closer, following the taste with my tongue. There’s a soft sound from the kitchen door and we break apart to see Andy, leaning against the doorframe and watching us with a smile that fades when he realises he’s been spotted.
“Don’t stop,” he complains. “I thought Christmas had come early.”
I laugh. “You’ll get your present at midnight and not before brat,” I tease and Roger grins, knowing exactly what we’ve got planned for later. Andy pouts as he crosses the room to the couch and drops down on the other side of Roger, hugging the popcorn to his chest.
“If I don’t get a present, you don’t get the popcorn,” he threatens hopefully. I trade grins with Roger and we pounce, everything descending into a chaos of flying cushions, popcorn and yells of outrage for a minute. Andy emerges flushed but triumphant, sitting across Roger’s thighs while I’m half trapped between the Swiss and the arm of the couch, reaching helplessly for the bowl Andy holds above his head.
“Present!” he demands gleefully, moving it just out of reach of my outstretched hand. Roger struggles ineffectually to sit up but Andy puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him down. “Or if not a present then I want Roger to admit he’s wrong about eggnog.”
“But-!” Roger starts to protest. Andy shakes the bowl warningly.
“Admit I’m right!” he insists, grinning. Roger glares up at him and I recognise the look that flashes across the Swiss’ face. It’s the look that means nothing, not torture or persuasion or bribery, will get him to back down. Andy sees it too and lifts an eyebrow, smirking.
“Oh, so it’s going to be like that is it?” He leans over to put the bowl down on the coffee table, evading my futile grab for it with ease. “What do you want to bet I can persuade you to admit I’m right?”
Roger tries again to sit up but only succeeds in making me gasp as he inadvertently presses back between my legs which are currently tangled around his waist after the popcorn-fight. A specific part of my anatomy is abruptly very interested and I bite my lip, meeting Andy’s eyes as he smiles suggestively.
“Mardy thinks I should try to persuade you,” he says softly. “Don’t you Fish?” My eyes track his hands as they slide with deliberate slowness up Roger’s thighs towards the top of his jeans, pausing pointedly when he reaches the zip. My moan echoes Roger’s.
“So?” Andy asks wickedly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles around the swiftly-growing bulge in Roger’s jeans. I can feel the Swiss trembling against me and know what Andy’s doing must be driving him crazy - it’s affecting me enough and I’m only watching. “Am I right?”
His hand slows, presses down harder and I can feel it in the way Roger arcs back against me with a choked gasp, his eyes screwed shut and hair falling across his face. I wrap a supporting arm around his waist and grind my hips against him, desperate for any sort of touch at this point. A choked cry escapes Roger, trapped between the two of us and unable to move unless we let him which, right now, isn’t high on our list of options. I tilt his head back to kiss him as Andy makes short work of his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them impatiently down. Roger makes a soft noise of desperation and kisses me harder.
“Roger?” Andy asks breathlessly, waiting for me to break the kiss so Roger can look at him. The Swiss lifts his head just slightly and I steal the chance to reach across to the coffee table and grab his forgotten glass of whiskey without him noticing. Andy slides forward to kiss Roger himself and the Swiss moans. I shiver at the sound, taking a sip of whiskey and wincing when it burns all the way down.
“Ready to admit defeat yet?” Andy breathes, leaning back a little. Roger can’t seem to speak but the determined shake of his head makes Andy’s grin widen. He sits back and slides all the way down, taking Roger’s briefs with him. The Swiss starts to look down to see what he’s doing but a quick glance from Andy begs me for a distraction. I gulp the whiskey which burns my tongue as I hold it in my mouth, pull Roger’s head back and kiss him, fiery whiskey and tongues and Roger’s half-scream as Andy’s mouth closes over his cock. The sounds and the alcohol make me dizzy as I tighten my grip on a shaking Roger, swallowing the last of the whiskey in my mouth so I can soften the kiss. This wasn’t supposed to happen until after midnight, but since it’s Christmas Eve, I guess Andy decided Roger could have his present early. I’m not arguing – it means I’ve still got whatever they’re planning to ‘give’ me to look forward to.
Roger’s writhing under Andy’s practiced mouth and I gasp as he grinds back, sending pleasure spiking through me. There’s no way I can touch myself; Roger’s on top of me and Andy’s pushing him down, both of them too engaged in what they’re doing to help me out. I push my hips up against Roger and somehow he understands, pressing back against me as Andy moves up a gear, his hand on Roger’s thigh gripping tight enough to leave bruises. I can feel that Roger’s close and force myself to take a deep breath, taking another mouthful of whiskey from the glass clenched tight enough to break in my hand as I lean down. Roger moans as the whiskey floods his mouth and I swallow hastily when I feel him go tense, wanting to give him room to breathe when he comes. He cries out in protest a second later as Andy sits up, leaving him begging for release in a mixture of German, English and what sounds like some very rude French. I glare at Andy, flushed and smirking.
“For fuck’s sake Andy, do you want to kill him?”
“Am I right?” Andy demands, a little hoarsely. Roger falls silent, gritting his teeth and I stroke the dark hair back from his face, damp with sweat. “Am I?”
“Ja, yes! Please!” Roger bucks his hips up, begging and I press a kiss to his hair, whispering soothing nonsense. “Please… Andy…”
Having won the argument – though I’m fairly sure not the war – Andy ducks back down again, moving fast in a tacit apology for making Roger beg, blond head beautifully golden against the darker coffee-brown of the Swiss’ skin. I’m still admiring the sight when Roger goes tense, arcing back against me with a choked cry as he finally comes, Andy swallowing with the ease of long practise and bringing him down gently, eventually sliding off with a softly wet pop.
There’s a brief silence as we all wind down, Roger’s breathing slowing as he turns on his side, eyes still closed as he uses my chest as a pillow. Andy looks a little guilty as he reaches out to run a hand through the Swiss’ dark curls.
“Rog?” he says quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Shut up.” Roger sounds amused, if still a little out of breath. “I should argue with you more often if that’s how you try to win.”
Andy looks up at me, surprise and relief in his smile. I try to smile back but Roger’s still between my legs and it’s doing nothing to diminish my erection. Andy glances down and when he spots the problem his smile turns wicked.
“Hey Roger?” he asks. “You feel up to some more early present-giving?”
Roger looks up at him then at me, his smile widening into a grin as he realises what Andy means. I open my mouth for a half hearted protest before I’m pinned back against the cushions and Andy’s kissing me, the salty tang of Roger still lingering in his mouth. I decide it’s not worth struggling and kiss him back.
After all, Roger had his present early. It's only fair I get to have mine too.
~Fin~
I am so going to bed now. *flops*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re: Okay...
Date: 2004-12-28 10:25 am (UTC)Re: Okay...
Date: 2004-12-28 07:04 pm (UTC)And we'd spend the first 2 or 3 minutes going, OMG I can't believe this is happening!
Re: Okay...
Date: 2004-12-29 11:51 am (UTC)... That's a good point. Or fainting. Or in my case probably making little squeaking noises because I'll not be able to speak. And Merc will be right there laughing at me because I teased her about her reaction to meeting Eric Bana. ^_^
Thinking about it, it would probably be embarrassing enough without the whole purple thing. ^__~
Re: Okay...
Date: 2004-12-29 07:46 pm (UTC)Re: Okay...
Date: 2004-12-30 12:07 am (UTC)Re: Okay...
Date: 2004-12-30 07:19 pm (UTC)Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-01 04:09 pm (UTC)Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-02 12:28 am (UTC)