Tennis slash!
Jan. 1st, 2005 03:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clo_againNo ficlets because I was distracted by the fireworks and a behind-the-scenes look at this year's Masters (Roger got embarrassed when he lost to Henman at pool in front of the camera people. ^__^ Sometimes you just want to hug him and never let go, he's so sweet.) But in the last couple of weeks there's been a few times when I've rashly said to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mercury32"Want some tennis slash?" and got answers along the lines of "Why do you ask such stupid questions?" and "Well duh." So here's two of the resulting ficlets, the first written for Merc's request of something to do with seeing a wild kangaroo for the first time and the second... just smut. Plain and simple.
So, to welcome in the new year, have tennis slash and enjoy. Should be more in the next week or so.
Title: Kangaroo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Drunken conversations and wild kangaroos and... more drunken conversations. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Hasn't and probably never will happen, they all own themselves, I'll put them back when I'm done. Maybe.
~
Andy liked Australia. The beer was better – though his American pride would never let him admit it out loud – than in the U.S., the people were friendly and any country that had road signs warning you to be careful of the koalas, complete with cute pictures, was in Andy’s opinion undeniably cool. It wasn’t home, but sitting on his hotel room balcony with a cold drink in hand and his feet up on the table, Andy could almost convince himself it didn’t matter - until a sudden pain stabbed his arm and he dropped his drink with a yell.
“Fucking mosquitoes!” The insect paid the price as he vented his frustration, leaving a bright red handprint-mark around the flattened mosquito on his arm. He was so engrossed in cleaning the squished bug off that the first knock at the door went unnoticed. The second one was a little louder and he glanced up, distracted.
“WHAT?!” he shouted through the open balcony door and across the room. He was too far away to hear more than a mumble of a reply and he jumped up with a sigh, stalking across the room to yank open the door.
“Wha-“ he started again before he realised who he was staring at. Roger appeared to have been taken by surprise mid-knock, hand still poised in mid-air. Andy opened his mouth, let it hang wordlessly open for a moment before he shut it again, finally remembering his manners.
“Roger. Hi,” he said slowly. The Swiss’ smile was tentative as he took his hand back, running it nervously through the short curls Andy still wasn’t used to.
“I wanted to see if you’d arrived yet,” he explained politely. “I… I was lonely.”
Andy blinked. “Oh. Really?” was all he could come up with, kicking himself the moment the words left his mouth. He must’ve had more beer than he’d thought to come out with something so moronic. “No Mirka?”
“She’s busy,” Roger said with a shrug. “Want to go for a drink?”
There were many people on tour Andy had got drunk with before. Most of them, having grown up with kinder European drinking laws, had years worth of practice behind them which he kept forgetting when he challenged them to drink-a-thons. The amount of times he’d ended up with a hangover in some random, fellow player’s bed last year had been enough to make Mardy choke when Andy had drunkenly revealed the numbers at their Christmas party. He’d had shot competitions with Moya, played very drunken strip poker with Hewitt and woken up wrapped around Tommy Haas so many times it was embarrassing – at yet in all the time he’d known Roger, not once had the guy asked him to go for a drink.
“You must be lonely,” Andy remarked, reaching for his room key. “Where’re we going?”
~
They ended up in a bar down the road from the hotel, quiet and nondescript. Roger paid for the drinks and they commandeered a table by the window, overlooking the river. Andy admired the lights reflected in the water, wondering if the glass was fogging up or if the beer he’d had earlier had really been that strong. He wouldn’t put anything past Aussie alcohol.
“How was your Christmas?” Roger asked, taking the seat across from him. Andy glanced away from the river and discovered that whoa, it was the beer going to his head.
“Good,” he answered, forcing himself to focus through the haze of alcohol. This could be bad. He knew from experience how… friendly he got when drunk and right now he was about half a glass away from doing something he’d regret. He knew it and still found himself admiring the play of light across Roger’s curls and the Swiss dark eyes, fixed curiously on him as he struggled to think of anything that he’d done over Christmas that was innocent enough for polite conversation. “It was nice to spend time with my family for once. You? I hear you didn’t spend much of it at home.”
“No,” Roger said pensively, glancing down at his drink. “I… I had things to think about. Travelling helped.”
“Ever think that maybe you were just running away?” Andy suggested, sober enough to keep his tone lightly tactful. Roger’s surprise was sudden and amused, his smile brighter than the lights outside.
“It did cross my mind,” he admitted.
“Well then here’s to running from your problems,” Andy lifted his drink in a toast before taking a huge gulp that burned all the way down. He gasped, watching Roger sip his drink more sedately. “Damn Roger, what’ve you bought me?”
“A personal favourite,” Roger replied with a smile edged with wickedness. “Do you like it?”
“Hell yes, I want the recipe.” Andy took another mouthful, feeling his head spin with vaguely detached interest. He’d known he liked Australia for a reason.
“Andy,” Roger said abruptly while the American was absorbed in the way the lights caught in the amber liquid of Roger’s drink. Andy shook his head, trying to focus.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember the party we had here last year?” Roger asked quietly. “After the Open ended?”
Andy frowned. He had a fuzzy recollection of mixing drinks, bright colours and waking up extremely sore in certain areas the next morning. “Yeah. Sort of.”
“Do you remember talking to me about Australia?” Roger met Andy’s eyes and held them until the American started to worry they’d been staring at each other too long. How long was too long? Was he too drunk for there to be a too long? Why was Roger staring at him like that? Oh right, he’d was supposed to be answering the question.
“Um…” He thought hard. Dark eyes swam dizzily through his mind – they’d been talking about koalas for some reason and then… then… No it was gone. “Sort of. It’s all very hazy.”
“Do you remember telling me…” Roger started but Andy cut him off, shaking his head then wishing he hadn’t as the floor beneath him swayed.
“To be honest Rog, I don’t remember much about that night at all. I’m still not sure how I got to my own bed at the end of it. Why, did I say anything embarrassing?” He flushed – of all the people he could’ve embarrassed himself in front of, Roger would be last on the list. “If I did I’m sorry. Though I guess it’s a bit late for apologies by now.”
“There is nothing to apologise for.” Roger leaned back in his seat, staring contemplatively at Andy. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Why?” Andy asked suspiciously. “If you want revenge for something…”
“Nein! I want to show you something, that’s all.” Roger offered his hand with a smile. “Honestly.”
Andy hesitated. He trusted Roger. If it was Henman or Moya, notorious for their tricks, he’d have said no. Roger on the other hand had never given him reason to doubt the Swiss’ basic honesty. Still, if he’d been completely sober he probably would’ve found some excuse to get out of it – he’d seen Roger’s wicked side before, when he’d teamed up with Henman to leave Safin locked outside his hotel room wearing only Snoopy boxers. The memory of the Russian’s desperate yells still made him smile but the warm fuzz of drunkenness also made him reckless. “Okay, I’m free. Where’re we going?”
Roger shook his head. “You’ll know when we get there. Meet me outside the lobby at eight.”
~
Which was why at five past eight the next night Andy found himself, still with the last remnants of a killer headache, sitting in a smart rental car speeding towards the city limits. Roger looked comfortable behind the wheel, having said nothing other than a polite greeting when Andy climbed in the car.
“Are we nearly there yet?” the American asked after another minute had passed. Roger cast a tolerant smile across at him and Andy inwardly winced. He hadn’t kissed, or otherwise made advances towards the Swiss last night but it had been a close call. He caught himself sliding his gaze over the Swiss’ slender fingers tapping against the wheel and wondering how they’d feel touching… No! Don’t go there. It took a huge effort to force his thoughts into safer areas.
A very close call.
“It will take us about an hour to get there,” Roger answered, apparently oblivious to Andy’s line of thought. “Are you feeling okay today?”
“Now yes. This morning… not so much.” Andy wriggled in his seat, propping a foot on the dash in an attempt to get comfortable. “After all the drinking I’ve done this year you would’ve thought I’d have a higher tolerance by now but no, you Europeans just have to prove you’re better…”
“I thought it didn’t need proving,” Roger remarked in an entirely serious tone. It wasn’t until Andy glanced over at him in surprise that he spotted the tiny smirk lurking on the Swiss’ face. Andy reached over to smack him on the arm.
“Hey! You and your drinking laws, always rubbing it in,” he protested in mock-hurt, before stealing a glance at the speedometer. “At least we’ve heard of the gas pedal in the U.S. Where’d you learn to drive, Britain?”
The friendly bickering settled down into conversation after the first five miles or so, moving from tennis to favourite movies, to music in between silences to watch the spectacular sunset. Andy noted Roger’s deftness at changing the subject whenever Mirka started to come up and wondered but pretended not to notice. He was just beginning to really enjoy the Swiss’ company when they turned off the road onto a dirt track, past a battered wooden sign that read ‘Healesville Animal Sanctuary.’
“”Roger?” Andy asked cautiously, suddenly wary. “Why’re we at an Animal Sanctuary? If this is going to involve anything in the way of crocodiles then I’m not leaving the car.”
“Relax. There’re no crocodiles in this part of the Sanctuary.” Roger paused, looking thoughtful as he turned off the track and parked. “That I know of that is.”
“What?!” Andy took a good look out his window before cautiously opening the door. “Have you seen a crocodile? They have more teeth than… something with lots of teeth!”
“I know. It’s ok, I know where we’re going.” Roger leapt lightly out the car, automatically waving away the attacking mosquitoes. A flashlight shone out the darkness and a woman in muddy jeans and a camouflage jacket appeared out the darkness, greeting Roger cheerfully.
“Hey mate, thought you weren’t coming. They’re close, not five minutes that way.” She pointed back the way she’d come, handing Roger the flashlight as Andy joined them. “Hey Andy, nice to meet you.”
“Same,” Andy replied, a little confused. “Roger…?”
“This way.” The Swiss took hold of Andy’s arm and steered him firmly off the track into the thick trees. Andy did his best to avoid falling flat on his face or walking into a tree, glad he’d thought to wear jeans instead of shorts. He was completely lost, letting Roger guide him through the darkness without a word - he was saving his breath in case they found a crocodile. He wanted that woman to be able to hear him yelling if they did.
“Shh,” Roger hissed, stopping abruptly to listen. Andy froze, unable to see anything in the shadowy darkness except Roger, illuminated softly by the flashlight beside him. There was a click and even that light vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. “Listen.”
Andy listened. He could hear nothing except buzzing insects, most of which seemed to be trying to bite him. He tuned out the discomfort, aware Roger probably hadn’t gone to all this effort just for them to be eaten alive by bugs. He heard nothing for another few seconds until there was a heavy thudding noise close by. He flinched.
“Wha-“ he started only to pause, the instant before Roger’s finger touched his lips. A snatch of drunken conversation floated through his mind, forgotten for almost a year.
“I’ve always wanted to see a wild kangaroo. I never have, all the times I’ve been here.”
“Really?” He recognised Roger’s voice from the memory, amused and curious. “Why a kangaroo?”
“I don’t know. It’d just be amazing you know? To actually see one.”
Andy, standing in the Australian bush in the dark was suddenly and completely lost for words. One drunken conversation almost a year ago… and Roger had remembered. Wow.
“Rog-“
“Ssssh,” Roger breathed, pressing close. Andy froze as there was another thud from even closer and Roger pushed him slowly forward, a step at a time, until they reached a clearing in the trees.
The kangaroos were grey shadows in the dim light, an entire group of them hopping lazily across the open space, more half hidden in the trees beyond. They made the thudding noise Andy had heard as they hopped, the smaller ones seeming to barely touch the floor while the hops of the largest shook the ground under Andy’s feet. He caught his breath as one leapt past almost close enough to touch, leaning hastily back against Roger who slid steadying arms around his waist. The kangaroos seemed to be in no hurry, pausing to listen or to graze as Andy and Roger watched silently from the edge of the clearing.
Andy had stopped thinking, had stopped noticing that Roger hadn’t moved away or that the Swiss’ hands were resting in a more-than-friendly way on his hips. He’d seen kangaroos in zoos of course and in pictures but never a wild one and never this many. They seemed to take forever to all pass and at the same time not long enough, the last small one stopping in the middle of the clearing to look around, staring directly at Andy and Roger in the shadows. Andy got the crazy feeling it was laughing at them before it hopped on, covering the ground in long, easy bounces to vanish after the others into the trees. Andy let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in a long sigh.
“That was… Wow. I don’t-“
“Sssh,” Roger whispered again, gently turning Andy round to face him without relinquishing his hold on the American. Andy let himself be manoeuvred, knowing where this was heading and quite happy to let it happen. When Roger’s lips met his it wasn’t even a surprise and he leaned into the kiss, sliding his arms around the Swiss to pull him closer.
“Thank you. That was incredible,” Andy murmured when they broke apart for air, feeling a little dizzy with surprise and happiness, amazed at how good it felt to finally get his hands – and mouth – on Roger. The Swiss laughed softly, sounding a little relieved.
“The kangaroos or the kiss?” he teased. Andy grinned into the darkness, pulling Roger in close again.
“Both,” he answered and proved just how grateful he was by kissing Roger again, wondering with the part of his mind that wasn’t full of slender Swiss pressed against him why he’d never had the courage to do it before.
~ Fin ~
Title: Resolutions
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Mainly Roddick/Federer/Fish, ref. to Moya/Nadal and Hewitt/Haas
Summary: ... No summary. Just New Year's Eve smut.
Disclaimer: See above. Not mine etc.
Warnings: PWP. Threesome. Mention of tennis player orgies. Did I mention PWP?
Roger hated parties. Especially New Year parties. Everyone drinking too much, doing horribly embarrassing things they’d spend the rest of the year regretting, avoiding each other’s eyes and slinking silently out of each other’s way. It was worse with parties full of tennis players – some of them seemed to regard New Year as a chance for a final wild and indiscriminate orgy. Roger sighed as Moya and Nadal stumbled past, Carlos’ hand inside the younger Spaniard’s jeans and Nadal gasping for breath, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. There was a reason girlfriends and wives weren’t invited to nights like this.
“Roger, you look lonely.” A strong arm wrapped around his waist, dragging him back a step to press against a warm body. Lips brushed his neck, damp and soft as Andy tangled a hand in the Swiss’ hair. “I can’t believe you aren’t celebrating your amazing year.”
“I’m more worried about how long I’ll last next year if Mirka finds out I let you fuck me again.” Roger leaned back into Andy’s embrace, tilting his head to one side as the American’s mouth travelled up his neck, sharp teeth nibbling an earlobe and making him shiver. “Last year…”
“Last year I got to be top. This year you’re number one. Rules have changed.” Andy sounded almost resigned as he turned Roger, their hips and thighs pressing together. “Mirka knows what it’s all about so stop worrying and shut up.”
“But-“ Roger was cut off as Andy kissed him, wet lips tasting of bourbon and something salty like pretzels. Roger made a sound of protest but the American pushed him back against the wall and kissed him harder, demanding and rough as his tongue pushed into the Swiss’ mouth. Roger was half aware of the whiskey glass in his hand, of similarly engaged players around them, of the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans – oh god he was definitely aware of that – but all of it faded to a blur as Andy pressed closer, thighs and hips grinding into Roger’s. The Swiss made a sound that was half-gasp, half moan when Andy finally leaned back a little, one hand busy unbuttoning Roger’s black shirt.
“Mmm I love silk,” he murmured, rubbing his other palm across the Swiss’ silk-covered chest, his face lighting up at Roger’s hiss of breath. “You kinky bastard Feds. Should I leave it on?” Abandoning the buttons he bent his head to kiss Roger’s shoulder through the shirt, his mouth leaving wet trails across silk. Roger shut his eyes, feeling a hand start to unzip his jeans.
“Andy I can’t-“
“Sorry,” a voice murmured beside his ear as another body pressed against his side, the hand at his zip sliding inside, tauntingly slow. “I’m not Andy.”
Roger’s eyes flickered open in shock, catching sight of Andy’s wicked smile just before Mardy leaned in to kiss him, blond hair and sparkling blue eyes obscuring his view. Roger started to struggle only to go weak and shivery a moment later when Mardy’s hand crept inside his briefs, calloused palm rough against soft skin. Andy caught Roger as his legs gave way, wrapping his arms tightly around the Swiss’ waist. “Hey, don’t quit yet,” he told him, half-carrying Roger across the room to the elevator. Mardy followed without losing his loose grip on the Swiss, grinning wickedly at the little moaning sounds Roger was making. “I actually put thought into this.”
“I’m impressed,” Roger managed, leaning heavily on both of them as two pairs of hands shamelessly explored him from the neck downwards. “Call the – fuck, Mardy, don’t stop, don’tstop… record books.”
“Always the smart ass,” Andy muttered, taking a hand off Roger long enough to press the elevator button. “Careful or I’ll let Mardy fuck you right here.”
“Don’t think anyone would mind,” Roger gasped, catching a quick glimpse of Moya and Nadal over Andy’s shoulder, entwined together on the floor while beyond them Lleyton Hewitt was making short work of Tommy Haas’ clothes. “They’d probably join in.”
“And that is exactly why we’re leaving.” Andy put his hand under Roger’s chin and tilted the Swiss’ head up, kissing him again as Mardy moved his hand a little faster, pressed a little harder. Roger was just about to cry out when the elevator arrived with a soft bing. Andy stepped back and Roger swore desperately in German when Mardy took his hand away too.
“Patience, love, is a virtue or so I’ve heard.” Andy dragged him into the elevator, freeing the glass of whiskey from Roger’s grip as he pulled the Swiss up against him. Taking a sip he made a face. “I see your taste in drinks hasn’t improved.”
“I could say the same.” Roger jumped as Mardy’s arms slid around his waist from behind, the American brushing his fingers teasingly over the erection fighting to escape Roger’s too-tight jeans. “How’d Andy talk you into this Fish?”
“Actually I asked,” Mardy murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Roger’s neck, followed by a gentle bite. The Swiss had to grit his teeth to stop himself making a sound. “I’ve always wanted to hear you scream.”
“I warned him you weren’t much of a screamer but he thought it was a challenge,” Andy said lazily, letting his hands drift to Roger’s hips, the whiskey having disappeared somewhere. He let them rest there, his thumbs rubbing lightly where hip met thigh. He knew from experience it was a turn-on spot for Roger and as Mardy practically wrapped himself around the Swiss from behind, Roger couldn’t swallow a half-choked cry. Andy grinned in triumph.
“Not quite screaming, but you’ll get there,” he murmured as the elevator came to a halt. The doors behind them slid open and they all staggered out into the hotel corridor in a tangle of arms, legs and half-undone clothes. Andy let go briefly to find his room key; Roger, only partly aware of what he was doing by now turned to kiss Mardy, slamming him back against the wall. Mardy kissed him back, raking his nails down Roger’s chest and snapping free the last few buttons on his shirt. Roger ignored the damage; Mardy’s tongue down his throat was more important.
Opening the door, Andy caught Mardy’s arm and pulled them both sideways into his room without separating them; Roger fell backwards onto the bed with Mardy on top of him. He barely heard the click of Andy locking the door, all his attention centred on the blond American straddling his thighs.
“People should fuck you more often Feds,” Mardy muttered, tangling a hand in Roger’s hair and pulling his head back so he could kiss him easier. “You look gorgeous like this.”
The bed beneath them rocked as Andy sat down; Roger was distantly aware of impatient hands removing his shoes and jeans, although Andy left his shirt alone. Another second and Mardy’s weight was gone; Roger started to sit up with a cry of protest but Andy – a very naked Andy – grabbed his hands and dragged him off the bed. Roger staggered as he stood up, feeling Mardy catch him from behind.
“Now Roger for once in your life you’re going to let us be in control understand?” Andy murmured, brushing wayward curls of hair out Roger’s eyes. The Swiss swallowed and nodded, holding onto Andy to stay upright as Mardy slid a finger into him, cold and slick with lube. He arced his body up almost involuntarily as Andy curled a hand around his cock.
“Enjoying yourself Rog?” the American asked almost casually as Mardy added a second finger. Roger couldn’t open his eyes to see Andy’s face but he knew the other man was smirking.
“Fuck off. And don’t you – fuck - dare stop.” Roger could feel the room spin as Mardy pressed rough kisses to his neck, angling his fingers upwards slightly as he added a third. It hurt a little – it had been a while – but the burn of stretching was lost in the feel of Mardy’s fingers moving inside him and Andy’s hand, stroking just light enough to be a tease. Roger writhed, unable to help it as he started to get desperate.
“Mardy please-“ he begged, his voice cracking. He could feel Andy exchange looks with the other American; felt the fingers withdraw. He hardly had time to protest before Mardy was pushing slowly into him as Andy trailed kisses down his chest. They’d somehow ended up with Mardy pressed back against the wall, Roger between him and Andy, whose mouth was still moving purposefully downwards. Roger swore in three different languages and thrust his ass back, driving Mardy in deeper. He heard the American gasp as sensation swept through him, making him dizzy.
“Fuck Roger, for someone who didn’t want this…” Mardy said through gritted teeth, letting the thought hang unfinished. Roger barely heard him; Andy’s tight grip on his thighs was the only thing holding him up, was the only thing that felt real as Mardy thrust harder, hitting all the right places. He knew if he listened he’d hear their harsh breathing, hear Mardy’s tiny moans and Andy’s low humming to make his mouth vibrate around Roger’s cock but he couldn’t spare the attention; everything was focused on Mardy inside him and Andy’s mouth, hot and wet around him. He could feel everything building, fierce pleasure mixed with pain as Andy’s teeth scraped too hard, as Mardy left teeth marks in his shoulder. Roger let his head fall back on Mardy’s shoulder and bucked his hips forward into Andy’s mouth as he finally came with a scream, Mardy coming a few thrusts later gasping Roger’s name and Andy catching them both, almost carrying them to the bed.
Roger half-fell onto soft sheets and buried his face in the pillow until he stopped trembling and started to catch his breath, numb exhaustion beginning to swamp the tingling remnants of orgasm. Someone warm curled against his back and someone else lay down on the other side, twining fingers loosely through his. The Swiss knew Andy was watching him without having to look.
“I just broke my New Year’s Resolution you know,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. Andy slid closer, wrapping an arm around Roger’s waist. Mardy pressed closer from the other side, brushing a soft, tired kiss across the Swiss’ dark curls.
“You can’t have done,” Andy pointed out rationally, running his hand soothingly up and down Roger’s thigh. “It’s not New Year yet. We’ve got another… “ He consulted his watch. “Six minutes.”
“Not next year’s resolution, this year’s.” Roger turned his head to meet Andy’s eyes, serious and shadowed in the dark room. “I said I wouldn’t do this again. It’s not fair-“
“To Mirka, we know.” Andy leaned in to kiss him comfortingly as Mardy stroked the Swiss’ hair. “But she knows Roger, and she let you come. It’s part of being a tennis player, of being best in the world. Accept it. Besides,” and Andy’s smile turned wicked. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”
“That’s not the point.” Roger could feel his eyes closing; he was too tired to argue now. “But next year-”
“Next year I’ll have to go one better,” Andy said thoughtfully. “I wonder if Marat’s free…”
As he drifted off to sleep, Mardy already snoring softly on one side and Andy quietly debating foursomes on the other, Roger reflected that maybe these parties weren’t so bad after all. Yes he’d promised himself this was the one thing he wouldn’t do but… Mirka would understand.
And anyway, everyone knows New Year’s Resolutions are made to be broken.
~Fin~
Here's hoping for plenty more tennis slash in 2005! :D
Clo
mercury32"Want some tennis slash?" and got answers along the lines of "Why do you ask such stupid questions?" and "Well duh." So here's two of the resulting ficlets, the first written for Merc's request of something to do with seeing a wild kangaroo for the first time and the second... just smut. Plain and simple.So, to welcome in the new year, have tennis slash and enjoy. Should be more in the next week or so.
Title: Kangaroo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Drunken conversations and wild kangaroos and... more drunken conversations. :)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Hasn't and probably never will happen, they all own themselves, I'll put them back when I'm done. Maybe.
~
Andy liked Australia. The beer was better – though his American pride would never let him admit it out loud – than in the U.S., the people were friendly and any country that had road signs warning you to be careful of the koalas, complete with cute pictures, was in Andy’s opinion undeniably cool. It wasn’t home, but sitting on his hotel room balcony with a cold drink in hand and his feet up on the table, Andy could almost convince himself it didn’t matter - until a sudden pain stabbed his arm and he dropped his drink with a yell.
“Fucking mosquitoes!” The insect paid the price as he vented his frustration, leaving a bright red handprint-mark around the flattened mosquito on his arm. He was so engrossed in cleaning the squished bug off that the first knock at the door went unnoticed. The second one was a little louder and he glanced up, distracted.
“WHAT?!” he shouted through the open balcony door and across the room. He was too far away to hear more than a mumble of a reply and he jumped up with a sigh, stalking across the room to yank open the door.
“Wha-“ he started again before he realised who he was staring at. Roger appeared to have been taken by surprise mid-knock, hand still poised in mid-air. Andy opened his mouth, let it hang wordlessly open for a moment before he shut it again, finally remembering his manners.
“Roger. Hi,” he said slowly. The Swiss’ smile was tentative as he took his hand back, running it nervously through the short curls Andy still wasn’t used to.
“I wanted to see if you’d arrived yet,” he explained politely. “I… I was lonely.”
Andy blinked. “Oh. Really?” was all he could come up with, kicking himself the moment the words left his mouth. He must’ve had more beer than he’d thought to come out with something so moronic. “No Mirka?”
“She’s busy,” Roger said with a shrug. “Want to go for a drink?”
There were many people on tour Andy had got drunk with before. Most of them, having grown up with kinder European drinking laws, had years worth of practice behind them which he kept forgetting when he challenged them to drink-a-thons. The amount of times he’d ended up with a hangover in some random, fellow player’s bed last year had been enough to make Mardy choke when Andy had drunkenly revealed the numbers at their Christmas party. He’d had shot competitions with Moya, played very drunken strip poker with Hewitt and woken up wrapped around Tommy Haas so many times it was embarrassing – at yet in all the time he’d known Roger, not once had the guy asked him to go for a drink.
“You must be lonely,” Andy remarked, reaching for his room key. “Where’re we going?”
~
They ended up in a bar down the road from the hotel, quiet and nondescript. Roger paid for the drinks and they commandeered a table by the window, overlooking the river. Andy admired the lights reflected in the water, wondering if the glass was fogging up or if the beer he’d had earlier had really been that strong. He wouldn’t put anything past Aussie alcohol.
“How was your Christmas?” Roger asked, taking the seat across from him. Andy glanced away from the river and discovered that whoa, it was the beer going to his head.
“Good,” he answered, forcing himself to focus through the haze of alcohol. This could be bad. He knew from experience how… friendly he got when drunk and right now he was about half a glass away from doing something he’d regret. He knew it and still found himself admiring the play of light across Roger’s curls and the Swiss dark eyes, fixed curiously on him as he struggled to think of anything that he’d done over Christmas that was innocent enough for polite conversation. “It was nice to spend time with my family for once. You? I hear you didn’t spend much of it at home.”
“No,” Roger said pensively, glancing down at his drink. “I… I had things to think about. Travelling helped.”
“Ever think that maybe you were just running away?” Andy suggested, sober enough to keep his tone lightly tactful. Roger’s surprise was sudden and amused, his smile brighter than the lights outside.
“It did cross my mind,” he admitted.
“Well then here’s to running from your problems,” Andy lifted his drink in a toast before taking a huge gulp that burned all the way down. He gasped, watching Roger sip his drink more sedately. “Damn Roger, what’ve you bought me?”
“A personal favourite,” Roger replied with a smile edged with wickedness. “Do you like it?”
“Hell yes, I want the recipe.” Andy took another mouthful, feeling his head spin with vaguely detached interest. He’d known he liked Australia for a reason.
“Andy,” Roger said abruptly while the American was absorbed in the way the lights caught in the amber liquid of Roger’s drink. Andy shook his head, trying to focus.
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember the party we had here last year?” Roger asked quietly. “After the Open ended?”
Andy frowned. He had a fuzzy recollection of mixing drinks, bright colours and waking up extremely sore in certain areas the next morning. “Yeah. Sort of.”
“Do you remember talking to me about Australia?” Roger met Andy’s eyes and held them until the American started to worry they’d been staring at each other too long. How long was too long? Was he too drunk for there to be a too long? Why was Roger staring at him like that? Oh right, he’d was supposed to be answering the question.
“Um…” He thought hard. Dark eyes swam dizzily through his mind – they’d been talking about koalas for some reason and then… then… No it was gone. “Sort of. It’s all very hazy.”
“Do you remember telling me…” Roger started but Andy cut him off, shaking his head then wishing he hadn’t as the floor beneath him swayed.
“To be honest Rog, I don’t remember much about that night at all. I’m still not sure how I got to my own bed at the end of it. Why, did I say anything embarrassing?” He flushed – of all the people he could’ve embarrassed himself in front of, Roger would be last on the list. “If I did I’m sorry. Though I guess it’s a bit late for apologies by now.”
“There is nothing to apologise for.” Roger leaned back in his seat, staring contemplatively at Andy. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Why?” Andy asked suspiciously. “If you want revenge for something…”
“Nein! I want to show you something, that’s all.” Roger offered his hand with a smile. “Honestly.”
Andy hesitated. He trusted Roger. If it was Henman or Moya, notorious for their tricks, he’d have said no. Roger on the other hand had never given him reason to doubt the Swiss’ basic honesty. Still, if he’d been completely sober he probably would’ve found some excuse to get out of it – he’d seen Roger’s wicked side before, when he’d teamed up with Henman to leave Safin locked outside his hotel room wearing only Snoopy boxers. The memory of the Russian’s desperate yells still made him smile but the warm fuzz of drunkenness also made him reckless. “Okay, I’m free. Where’re we going?”
Roger shook his head. “You’ll know when we get there. Meet me outside the lobby at eight.”
~
Which was why at five past eight the next night Andy found himself, still with the last remnants of a killer headache, sitting in a smart rental car speeding towards the city limits. Roger looked comfortable behind the wheel, having said nothing other than a polite greeting when Andy climbed in the car.
“Are we nearly there yet?” the American asked after another minute had passed. Roger cast a tolerant smile across at him and Andy inwardly winced. He hadn’t kissed, or otherwise made advances towards the Swiss last night but it had been a close call. He caught himself sliding his gaze over the Swiss’ slender fingers tapping against the wheel and wondering how they’d feel touching… No! Don’t go there. It took a huge effort to force his thoughts into safer areas.
A very close call.
“It will take us about an hour to get there,” Roger answered, apparently oblivious to Andy’s line of thought. “Are you feeling okay today?”
“Now yes. This morning… not so much.” Andy wriggled in his seat, propping a foot on the dash in an attempt to get comfortable. “After all the drinking I’ve done this year you would’ve thought I’d have a higher tolerance by now but no, you Europeans just have to prove you’re better…”
“I thought it didn’t need proving,” Roger remarked in an entirely serious tone. It wasn’t until Andy glanced over at him in surprise that he spotted the tiny smirk lurking on the Swiss’ face. Andy reached over to smack him on the arm.
“Hey! You and your drinking laws, always rubbing it in,” he protested in mock-hurt, before stealing a glance at the speedometer. “At least we’ve heard of the gas pedal in the U.S. Where’d you learn to drive, Britain?”
The friendly bickering settled down into conversation after the first five miles or so, moving from tennis to favourite movies, to music in between silences to watch the spectacular sunset. Andy noted Roger’s deftness at changing the subject whenever Mirka started to come up and wondered but pretended not to notice. He was just beginning to really enjoy the Swiss’ company when they turned off the road onto a dirt track, past a battered wooden sign that read ‘Healesville Animal Sanctuary.’
“”Roger?” Andy asked cautiously, suddenly wary. “Why’re we at an Animal Sanctuary? If this is going to involve anything in the way of crocodiles then I’m not leaving the car.”
“Relax. There’re no crocodiles in this part of the Sanctuary.” Roger paused, looking thoughtful as he turned off the track and parked. “That I know of that is.”
“What?!” Andy took a good look out his window before cautiously opening the door. “Have you seen a crocodile? They have more teeth than… something with lots of teeth!”
“I know. It’s ok, I know where we’re going.” Roger leapt lightly out the car, automatically waving away the attacking mosquitoes. A flashlight shone out the darkness and a woman in muddy jeans and a camouflage jacket appeared out the darkness, greeting Roger cheerfully.
“Hey mate, thought you weren’t coming. They’re close, not five minutes that way.” She pointed back the way she’d come, handing Roger the flashlight as Andy joined them. “Hey Andy, nice to meet you.”
“Same,” Andy replied, a little confused. “Roger…?”
“This way.” The Swiss took hold of Andy’s arm and steered him firmly off the track into the thick trees. Andy did his best to avoid falling flat on his face or walking into a tree, glad he’d thought to wear jeans instead of shorts. He was completely lost, letting Roger guide him through the darkness without a word - he was saving his breath in case they found a crocodile. He wanted that woman to be able to hear him yelling if they did.
“Shh,” Roger hissed, stopping abruptly to listen. Andy froze, unable to see anything in the shadowy darkness except Roger, illuminated softly by the flashlight beside him. There was a click and even that light vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. “Listen.”
Andy listened. He could hear nothing except buzzing insects, most of which seemed to be trying to bite him. He tuned out the discomfort, aware Roger probably hadn’t gone to all this effort just for them to be eaten alive by bugs. He heard nothing for another few seconds until there was a heavy thudding noise close by. He flinched.
“Wha-“ he started only to pause, the instant before Roger’s finger touched his lips. A snatch of drunken conversation floated through his mind, forgotten for almost a year.
“I’ve always wanted to see a wild kangaroo. I never have, all the times I’ve been here.”
“Really?” He recognised Roger’s voice from the memory, amused and curious. “Why a kangaroo?”
“I don’t know. It’d just be amazing you know? To actually see one.”
Andy, standing in the Australian bush in the dark was suddenly and completely lost for words. One drunken conversation almost a year ago… and Roger had remembered. Wow.
“Rog-“
“Ssssh,” Roger breathed, pressing close. Andy froze as there was another thud from even closer and Roger pushed him slowly forward, a step at a time, until they reached a clearing in the trees.
The kangaroos were grey shadows in the dim light, an entire group of them hopping lazily across the open space, more half hidden in the trees beyond. They made the thudding noise Andy had heard as they hopped, the smaller ones seeming to barely touch the floor while the hops of the largest shook the ground under Andy’s feet. He caught his breath as one leapt past almost close enough to touch, leaning hastily back against Roger who slid steadying arms around his waist. The kangaroos seemed to be in no hurry, pausing to listen or to graze as Andy and Roger watched silently from the edge of the clearing.
Andy had stopped thinking, had stopped noticing that Roger hadn’t moved away or that the Swiss’ hands were resting in a more-than-friendly way on his hips. He’d seen kangaroos in zoos of course and in pictures but never a wild one and never this many. They seemed to take forever to all pass and at the same time not long enough, the last small one stopping in the middle of the clearing to look around, staring directly at Andy and Roger in the shadows. Andy got the crazy feeling it was laughing at them before it hopped on, covering the ground in long, easy bounces to vanish after the others into the trees. Andy let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding in a long sigh.
“That was… Wow. I don’t-“
“Sssh,” Roger whispered again, gently turning Andy round to face him without relinquishing his hold on the American. Andy let himself be manoeuvred, knowing where this was heading and quite happy to let it happen. When Roger’s lips met his it wasn’t even a surprise and he leaned into the kiss, sliding his arms around the Swiss to pull him closer.
“Thank you. That was incredible,” Andy murmured when they broke apart for air, feeling a little dizzy with surprise and happiness, amazed at how good it felt to finally get his hands – and mouth – on Roger. The Swiss laughed softly, sounding a little relieved.
“The kangaroos or the kiss?” he teased. Andy grinned into the darkness, pulling Roger in close again.
“Both,” he answered and proved just how grateful he was by kissing Roger again, wondering with the part of his mind that wasn’t full of slender Swiss pressed against him why he’d never had the courage to do it before.
~ Fin ~
Title: Resolutions
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Mainly Roddick/Federer/Fish, ref. to Moya/Nadal and Hewitt/Haas
Summary: ... No summary. Just New Year's Eve smut.
Disclaimer: See above. Not mine etc.
Warnings: PWP. Threesome. Mention of tennis player orgies. Did I mention PWP?
Roger hated parties. Especially New Year parties. Everyone drinking too much, doing horribly embarrassing things they’d spend the rest of the year regretting, avoiding each other’s eyes and slinking silently out of each other’s way. It was worse with parties full of tennis players – some of them seemed to regard New Year as a chance for a final wild and indiscriminate orgy. Roger sighed as Moya and Nadal stumbled past, Carlos’ hand inside the younger Spaniard’s jeans and Nadal gasping for breath, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. There was a reason girlfriends and wives weren’t invited to nights like this.
“Roger, you look lonely.” A strong arm wrapped around his waist, dragging him back a step to press against a warm body. Lips brushed his neck, damp and soft as Andy tangled a hand in the Swiss’ hair. “I can’t believe you aren’t celebrating your amazing year.”
“I’m more worried about how long I’ll last next year if Mirka finds out I let you fuck me again.” Roger leaned back into Andy’s embrace, tilting his head to one side as the American’s mouth travelled up his neck, sharp teeth nibbling an earlobe and making him shiver. “Last year…”
“Last year I got to be top. This year you’re number one. Rules have changed.” Andy sounded almost resigned as he turned Roger, their hips and thighs pressing together. “Mirka knows what it’s all about so stop worrying and shut up.”
“But-“ Roger was cut off as Andy kissed him, wet lips tasting of bourbon and something salty like pretzels. Roger made a sound of protest but the American pushed him back against the wall and kissed him harder, demanding and rough as his tongue pushed into the Swiss’ mouth. Roger was half aware of the whiskey glass in his hand, of similarly engaged players around them, of the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans – oh god he was definitely aware of that – but all of it faded to a blur as Andy pressed closer, thighs and hips grinding into Roger’s. The Swiss made a sound that was half-gasp, half moan when Andy finally leaned back a little, one hand busy unbuttoning Roger’s black shirt.
“Mmm I love silk,” he murmured, rubbing his other palm across the Swiss’ silk-covered chest, his face lighting up at Roger’s hiss of breath. “You kinky bastard Feds. Should I leave it on?” Abandoning the buttons he bent his head to kiss Roger’s shoulder through the shirt, his mouth leaving wet trails across silk. Roger shut his eyes, feeling a hand start to unzip his jeans.
“Andy I can’t-“
“Sorry,” a voice murmured beside his ear as another body pressed against his side, the hand at his zip sliding inside, tauntingly slow. “I’m not Andy.”
Roger’s eyes flickered open in shock, catching sight of Andy’s wicked smile just before Mardy leaned in to kiss him, blond hair and sparkling blue eyes obscuring his view. Roger started to struggle only to go weak and shivery a moment later when Mardy’s hand crept inside his briefs, calloused palm rough against soft skin. Andy caught Roger as his legs gave way, wrapping his arms tightly around the Swiss’ waist. “Hey, don’t quit yet,” he told him, half-carrying Roger across the room to the elevator. Mardy followed without losing his loose grip on the Swiss, grinning wickedly at the little moaning sounds Roger was making. “I actually put thought into this.”
“I’m impressed,” Roger managed, leaning heavily on both of them as two pairs of hands shamelessly explored him from the neck downwards. “Call the – fuck, Mardy, don’t stop, don’tstop… record books.”
“Always the smart ass,” Andy muttered, taking a hand off Roger long enough to press the elevator button. “Careful or I’ll let Mardy fuck you right here.”
“Don’t think anyone would mind,” Roger gasped, catching a quick glimpse of Moya and Nadal over Andy’s shoulder, entwined together on the floor while beyond them Lleyton Hewitt was making short work of Tommy Haas’ clothes. “They’d probably join in.”
“And that is exactly why we’re leaving.” Andy put his hand under Roger’s chin and tilted the Swiss’ head up, kissing him again as Mardy moved his hand a little faster, pressed a little harder. Roger was just about to cry out when the elevator arrived with a soft bing. Andy stepped back and Roger swore desperately in German when Mardy took his hand away too.
“Patience, love, is a virtue or so I’ve heard.” Andy dragged him into the elevator, freeing the glass of whiskey from Roger’s grip as he pulled the Swiss up against him. Taking a sip he made a face. “I see your taste in drinks hasn’t improved.”
“I could say the same.” Roger jumped as Mardy’s arms slid around his waist from behind, the American brushing his fingers teasingly over the erection fighting to escape Roger’s too-tight jeans. “How’d Andy talk you into this Fish?”
“Actually I asked,” Mardy murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Roger’s neck, followed by a gentle bite. The Swiss had to grit his teeth to stop himself making a sound. “I’ve always wanted to hear you scream.”
“I warned him you weren’t much of a screamer but he thought it was a challenge,” Andy said lazily, letting his hands drift to Roger’s hips, the whiskey having disappeared somewhere. He let them rest there, his thumbs rubbing lightly where hip met thigh. He knew from experience it was a turn-on spot for Roger and as Mardy practically wrapped himself around the Swiss from behind, Roger couldn’t swallow a half-choked cry. Andy grinned in triumph.
“Not quite screaming, but you’ll get there,” he murmured as the elevator came to a halt. The doors behind them slid open and they all staggered out into the hotel corridor in a tangle of arms, legs and half-undone clothes. Andy let go briefly to find his room key; Roger, only partly aware of what he was doing by now turned to kiss Mardy, slamming him back against the wall. Mardy kissed him back, raking his nails down Roger’s chest and snapping free the last few buttons on his shirt. Roger ignored the damage; Mardy’s tongue down his throat was more important.
Opening the door, Andy caught Mardy’s arm and pulled them both sideways into his room without separating them; Roger fell backwards onto the bed with Mardy on top of him. He barely heard the click of Andy locking the door, all his attention centred on the blond American straddling his thighs.
“People should fuck you more often Feds,” Mardy muttered, tangling a hand in Roger’s hair and pulling his head back so he could kiss him easier. “You look gorgeous like this.”
The bed beneath them rocked as Andy sat down; Roger was distantly aware of impatient hands removing his shoes and jeans, although Andy left his shirt alone. Another second and Mardy’s weight was gone; Roger started to sit up with a cry of protest but Andy – a very naked Andy – grabbed his hands and dragged him off the bed. Roger staggered as he stood up, feeling Mardy catch him from behind.
“Now Roger for once in your life you’re going to let us be in control understand?” Andy murmured, brushing wayward curls of hair out Roger’s eyes. The Swiss swallowed and nodded, holding onto Andy to stay upright as Mardy slid a finger into him, cold and slick with lube. He arced his body up almost involuntarily as Andy curled a hand around his cock.
“Enjoying yourself Rog?” the American asked almost casually as Mardy added a second finger. Roger couldn’t open his eyes to see Andy’s face but he knew the other man was smirking.
“Fuck off. And don’t you – fuck - dare stop.” Roger could feel the room spin as Mardy pressed rough kisses to his neck, angling his fingers upwards slightly as he added a third. It hurt a little – it had been a while – but the burn of stretching was lost in the feel of Mardy’s fingers moving inside him and Andy’s hand, stroking just light enough to be a tease. Roger writhed, unable to help it as he started to get desperate.
“Mardy please-“ he begged, his voice cracking. He could feel Andy exchange looks with the other American; felt the fingers withdraw. He hardly had time to protest before Mardy was pushing slowly into him as Andy trailed kisses down his chest. They’d somehow ended up with Mardy pressed back against the wall, Roger between him and Andy, whose mouth was still moving purposefully downwards. Roger swore in three different languages and thrust his ass back, driving Mardy in deeper. He heard the American gasp as sensation swept through him, making him dizzy.
“Fuck Roger, for someone who didn’t want this…” Mardy said through gritted teeth, letting the thought hang unfinished. Roger barely heard him; Andy’s tight grip on his thighs was the only thing holding him up, was the only thing that felt real as Mardy thrust harder, hitting all the right places. He knew if he listened he’d hear their harsh breathing, hear Mardy’s tiny moans and Andy’s low humming to make his mouth vibrate around Roger’s cock but he couldn’t spare the attention; everything was focused on Mardy inside him and Andy’s mouth, hot and wet around him. He could feel everything building, fierce pleasure mixed with pain as Andy’s teeth scraped too hard, as Mardy left teeth marks in his shoulder. Roger let his head fall back on Mardy’s shoulder and bucked his hips forward into Andy’s mouth as he finally came with a scream, Mardy coming a few thrusts later gasping Roger’s name and Andy catching them both, almost carrying them to the bed.
Roger half-fell onto soft sheets and buried his face in the pillow until he stopped trembling and started to catch his breath, numb exhaustion beginning to swamp the tingling remnants of orgasm. Someone warm curled against his back and someone else lay down on the other side, twining fingers loosely through his. The Swiss knew Andy was watching him without having to look.
“I just broke my New Year’s Resolution you know,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. Andy slid closer, wrapping an arm around Roger’s waist. Mardy pressed closer from the other side, brushing a soft, tired kiss across the Swiss’ dark curls.
“You can’t have done,” Andy pointed out rationally, running his hand soothingly up and down Roger’s thigh. “It’s not New Year yet. We’ve got another… “ He consulted his watch. “Six minutes.”
“Not next year’s resolution, this year’s.” Roger turned his head to meet Andy’s eyes, serious and shadowed in the dark room. “I said I wouldn’t do this again. It’s not fair-“
“To Mirka, we know.” Andy leaned in to kiss him comfortingly as Mardy stroked the Swiss’ hair. “But she knows Roger, and she let you come. It’s part of being a tennis player, of being best in the world. Accept it. Besides,” and Andy’s smile turned wicked. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”
“That’s not the point.” Roger could feel his eyes closing; he was too tired to argue now. “But next year-”
“Next year I’ll have to go one better,” Andy said thoughtfully. “I wonder if Marat’s free…”
As he drifted off to sleep, Mardy already snoring softly on one side and Andy quietly debating foursomes on the other, Roger reflected that maybe these parties weren’t so bad after all. Yes he’d promised himself this was the one thing he wouldn’t do but… Mirka would understand.
And anyway, everyone knows New Year’s Resolutions are made to be broken.
~Fin~
Here's hoping for plenty more tennis slash in 2005! :D
Clo
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:12 am (UTC)UGHN................
*drools*
Hot Damn!
*gets patriotic*
Hee! Andy thinks Oz is great! Yay! Our culture does have a fondness for alcohol (even if I don't) *bounces*
*snickers*
And road signs!
*giggles*
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:17 am (UTC)Having been friends with
And the Imp-fic-radar strikes again! ^__~ Glad you liked!
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:21 am (UTC)And yes, drooling is DEFINITELY a good thing when it comes to smut *winks*
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:28 am (UTC)Duly noted! ^__~
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:35 am (UTC)Well its summer and my classes don't start until the end of february....I don't actually work either....So I do sleep....but my night is opposite to yours....I won't be a round from the 3rd to the 13th though...will be in Adelaide (unfortunately am not going to the tennis *sighs*)
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:42 am (UTC)And I'll probably be frantically writing English essays and Creative Writing things from about the 2nd to the 9th, so I doubt you'll miss much tennis slash while you're away, at least from me. :)
But the *same city* as them. That's gotta be worth something. Closest they ever get to me is London, a good four hour drive away. *sighs enviously*
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Date: 2005-01-01 04:54 am (UTC)*grins*
I know...same city...*sighs*...But Andy didn't accept the Wild Card *pouts*....*makes mental note to check whether Roger is playing*
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Date: 2005-01-01 10:34 pm (UTC)*sighs* Damn Andy. Isn't Roger in Doha or Melbourne around then... I'm not sure. But still, there are many pretty tennis players out there for you to bump into. :)
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Date: 2005-01-01 11:59 pm (UTC)Yes....many, many pretty tennis players..*clutches camera*
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Date: 2005-01-01 06:40 am (UTC)But oh! I love you stories! And I love how pal-y pal-y you've made them all. I wish the men's tour was like that. It used to be before. In McEnroe's book, he said that they were always at Studio 59, and that when he first got into the top 5, Bjorg (BJORG!!!) and Gerulatis dragged him off to a bar somewhere and gave him illigal substances to initiate him. :D And Bjorg could spend the whole night drinking away, then get up the next morning and win a match, whil the rest of them were so shattered...and they partied everynight.
But now everyone's so competitive, they keep each other at arm's length and play mind games. That's why I stand by my theory that Andy fired Brad cos Brad wanted him to play with Roger's head and mess him up... :D ;)
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Date: 2005-01-01 10:47 pm (UTC)I firmly believe there should be more pal-y pal-y-ness in the men's tour, wild parties and orgies and playing matches with hangovers and so on. They should learn to take themselves less seriously. *sighs wistfully for the good old days* Mind games can be fun to fic with, but not all the time.
I like that theory! :) *pets poor Andy*
Okay...
Date: 2005-01-02 12:58 am (UTC)Also, is ded! DED, I say! From Andy waking up with Moya and Haas because of too much alcohol (am still not Hewitt's biggest fan) and then Roger being so sweet and loveable.
And the second one was just hot. And I loved how it was like a great big frat for them, which is what I really wish it was. Mainly because of the possibilites. :)
Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-03 12:41 am (UTC)*giggles* You may be getting some ficlets about the drunken waking up. ;) I didn't think when I wrote it, then I re-read and was like... -_- "Plotbunny!" And sweet"loveable!Roger is easy to write, because he really is sweet and loveable. *hugs him*
I think it was wishful thinking kicking in with the frat mentality in the second one. *sighs wistfully* We can dream. And write fic. ;)
Glad you liked them! There will be more in the next week or so, after this essay gets done.
Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-03 02:27 am (UTC)Have borrowed the idea of drunken waking up for a ficlet of my own. Hope you don't mind.
And, as far as I'm concerned, it is a giant frat. And I don't care about the people who disagree with me, even if they do know more. :)
Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-03 03:33 am (UTC)Borrow away! I have a feeling in an ideal world - or *our* ideal world anyway - tennis players (and I think Andy especially) would do it all the time. ^____^ Plus if it means more slash ficlets... *glee*
We'll make them a frat dammit and everyone else can just agree with us! Because that's how it should be. And how it will be when we conquer the world. *nods firmly*
Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-03 07:00 pm (UTC)Re: Okay...
Date: 2005-01-16 08:12 am (UTC)*watches flist on tv moniors* Now who is writing fic today......*evil laugh*
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Date: 2005-01-02 09:18 am (UTC)They have more teeth than… something with lots of teeth! SO Andy. :)
Carlos’ hand inside the younger Spaniard’s jeans and Nadal gasping for breath, eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. That is one beautiful image. Someone must write more about these two. I command it. :)
I wonder if Marat’s free… I wonder as well... :)
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Date: 2005-01-03 12:44 am (UTC)I couldn't think of something with lots of teeth... so I tried to channel my Andy muse. I think it worked. :)
YOUR ICON is completely and utterly to blame for that image. ^__^ Because it is beautiful. *pets it* And after I've finally written the Bounty sequel, Moya/Nadal will be top of my list. Because they are very very pretty together. *admires the shiny*
Hhhmmm... I think I know what my next new Year's Eve ficlet will be... *plots*
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Date: 2005-01-03 07:06 am (UTC)I just knew it was my icon, I just didn't want to say it and be wrong and sound conceited... :) and do pretty please finish the Bounty sequel soon! :)
Next New Year's Eve? I have to wait that long? Noooooooooooooooo!
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Date: 2005-01-03 06:29 pm (UTC)Definitely your icon. :) It's so pretty and slashy and suggestive. :D And I will try to finish the Bounty sequel soon... It would help to actually start it soon too.
Maybe I'll get round to having an early New Year. ;) It doesn't have to be New Year to write New Year's fic I think...
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Date: 2005-01-04 06:04 am (UTC)I for one cannot gripe at you for not starting stories when I have such trouble continuing my own. :)
*Heaves sigh of relief.* I didn't think I could wait that long. :)
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Date: 2005-05-11 01:13 am (UTC)Resolutions -- Oh my hotness.... Mmmmm, now you've got me seriously pondering lleyton/tommy. :-D *snuggles this fic* Hot completely hot!!!!!
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Date: 2007-07-09 04:54 am (UTC)Anyway, better late than never and I've read a couple of your fics and they're fab XD! This is way so late reply and I hope you don't mind, but guuuh, this is lovely. The first one with Oz and kangoroo is adorable and the second one-my GOD the second one. Very hot. I love Roger being the bottom boy, I dunno why, especially since most fics have him topping Andy, but I think he fits to bottom :9.
ANyway, I'll go reading more of your fics now. I hope you don't mind if I friend you? Because some of your fics are friendlocked so... :).
Just asking, do you still write tennisslash :)?
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Date: 2007-07-17 08:14 pm (UTC)