Fic: Like a Last Chance for a First Dance
Title: Like a Last Chance for a First Dance
Pairing: Andy Roddick/Roger Federer
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: After the AO final, Andy takes Roger on a little getaway. Angst. Fluff
What if we could
Put our lives on
Hold and meet some
Where inside of the world
I would meet you
Would you meet me?
--Blue October's What If We Could
“So he’s not doing anything?”
Mirka’s sigh is loud in his ears. “No. He’s just lying in bed, staring into space. He won’t get up, eat, or even talk. I’m more than a little worried, Andy.”
“Is… Is… Is he still…?”
“No... He hasn’t since we left Melbourne Park. I wouldn’t be so worried if he was because at least he’d be doing something. I know its stupid but I-I check to see if he’s still breathing.”
Andy closes his eyes for a second, his muscles suddenly tense. “Just hold on, Mirka. I’m almost there. Just give me ten minutes.”
“Andy, what are we going to do? I-I don’t know… I feel useless.”
“I’m going to take him away for a few days, ok? We’ll still be in Australia, Melbourne actually, but I think he’s to be out of the environment he’s in.”
“O-ok. Do you need me to get his things ready?”
“That would be great. Maybe just a bag or something. I’m almost there. I’ll see you in a few ok?”
“Ok, Andy.”
+
The sun is shining bright, as it always is at this time in the year in Australia, but Andy would have never known as darkness engulfs as he steps into the hotel room. Mirka greets him with a weary smile, trying to be strong. She lets him in without an exchange of words and leads him over to where Roger is. When he comes near the bed, the sight breaks Andy’s heart.
Roger is curled up into the fetal position facing the patio doors, his eyes red and open wide with dark circles. His hair is messy, some strands are stuck to his forehead, others sticking up every which direction. He doesn’t acknowledge Andy’s presence whatsoever, not even when Andy slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. Andy looks back to Mirka with a frown and she looks like she going to cry. When Andy is about to say something, she waves him off with her hand and quickly exits the room. His arms tighten around Roger’s still frame, his body feeling weak against his own.
“Roger, baby. We’re going away for a few days, ok?” Andy’s voice is low, as though he’s speaking to a child. He hates himself for treating Roger this way but he doesn’t know how else to behave. With a kiss behind Roger’s ear, Andy closes his eyes and continues. “It’s a nice little place, not too far from here. About thirty minutes actually. It’ll be nice, just me and you. We haven’t done that in a long time.”
His words cease when he realized that he was just trying to fill the silence. Instead, Andy presses himself a little closer to Roger and he holds on tight. The whirl of the air conditioner is loud, rough in Andy’s ears but he lets it soothe him. He doesn’t know he’s asleep until he feels a tap on his shoulder. He looks up to see Mirka.
“You two should get going..”
With a yawn, Andy checks his watch and curses when he realizes that he’s been asleep for two hours! He does his best to get Roger up from the bed. With every act of compliance, Andy rewards him with a kiss but Roger still doesn’t respond, verbally or otherwise. He just allows Andy to dress him and get him in the car. With a kiss to Mirka’s cheek, Andy and Roger exit the hotel’s parking lot.
It’s only a thirty-minute drive, but Andy feels every second of it. Roger just sits with his hands collapses in his lap, eyes trained on nothing in front of him. Andy can’t help but look over to him every so often, just to make sure he’s still there. Finally, they pull up to the private residence, an off white villa overlooking the beach, the water so blue. The trees and plants surrounding it give it a homey feel, reassuring Andy’s doubt, just a little.
He shoulders both of their bags before stopping in front of the passenger side of the car and reaching for Roger. Roger’s fingers feel lifeless in his own. Andy pushes down the feeling of queasiness before leading them to the door. Within seconds, he has them inside and sets down their bags before enveloping Roger in a full bodied hug. Roger’s arms remain by his side.
“It’s late but are you hungry? I wouldn’t mind getting a bite to eat. It comes fully stocked so we’re staying in unless you want to leave. Hmm, maybe we should take a tour first?”
He’s talking to the air, Andy’s fully aware of that. He feels lost but for the sake of Roger, and his own, Andy remains strong. Roger just needs time. So Andy takes him by the hand and leads him around, pointing out which room will be theirs, the master bedroom with a comfy bed in the middle, large windows leading to the patio. It was fresh, breathable. There are other rooms, many more as it is two stories but they make their way to the kitchen. Still hand in hand, Andy walks over to the patio that’s off to the side, stopping to admire the view from above.
“This is pretty much relaxation heaven. There’s the beach, obviously, tennis courts, a swimming pool, a hot tub.” He smoothly throws out the bit about the courts, just in case Roger feels like jumping back in the saddle, per say. As expected, Roger remains silent, eyes vacant. Fighting the urge to sigh, he pulls Roger back inside and seats him at the table before turning to the fridge. He’s not much of a cook but they’ll manage. He prepares a couple sandwiches for them, along with some juice. Andy doesn’t realize how hungry is he as he quickly finishes his own before looking up and frowning. Roger hasn’t even touched his.
“Roger… You have to eat… At least one, ok?”
Roger looks down at the plate in front of him but doesn’t make any further movement. He stares at the sandwiches, they don’t look bad. Suddenly there’s a hand in front of his nose and it picks up a half.
“Come on, Rog. Take a bite… for me, please? With a cherry on top?”
When Roger looks up, Andy swears he sees a flash of the old Roger, his Roger but its gone just as quickly. Andy raises his hand with a smile as he brings the bread to Roger’s lips. Roger’s eyes flicker from the sandwich to Andy’s eyes and remain there as he opens his mouth and takes a bite. Andy lets out a shaky breath, caught up completely by Roger. Soon one half is gone and so is the second. When Andy lifts another, Roger shakes his head but Andy puts on a pout and Roger finds himself eating some more. Andy relents when the third half is devoured and leans in to kiss Roger’s lips lightly, unresponsive, but Andy doesn’t dwell on that too long. One little battle at a time.
After placing the dishes away, they go up to their room, exhaustion setting in. Andy’s still having conversations with himself, but he’s decided that he’s going to continue until Roger either tells him to shut up or actually talks to him. So Andy gets ready for bed, chatting idly about nothing as he strips and settles behind Roger. The familiarity of Roger’s warm body quiets any doubts Andy might have had about bringing him here. This is Roger, his Roger and he’ll do any and everything to make him whole again.
He curls his arm around Roger’s waist, resting his fingers against his stomach. Eyes fall shut then jerk open when Andy feels moist heat around his fingers. When Roger’s tongue flickers between the digits, Andy moans. Suddenly his fingers leave the warm cavern and are pressed against Roger’s entrance. This shakes Andy out of his lustful haze as he props himself on an elbow, looking down at Roger.
“Are you sure, Rog? We should just sleep.” Roger’s eyes are closed and remain so as he shakes his head and grips Andy’s wrist a little harder, pressing Andy’s finger a little harder against himself. This isn’t up for discussion.
Andy closes his eyes and he settles back against the pillow, breathing deep. Progression, he sees this as progression. He rather talk or sleep but then again, Andy will never deny Roger of sex, or of anything.
His finger breeches the tight opening slowly, his scent draws Andy to Roger, kissing his neck tenderly. He can hear Roger breathe, drawing in deep, holding it in his lungs and releasing it slowly. His body has relaxed, although not completely but it makes Andy happy nonetheless. Andy has never seen Roger as broken as he had today. Never before has Roger stopped everything, closing off even Andy, especially Andy. Andy swears he could feel a sharp blade carve into his heart when Roger was overwhelmed by his emotions; it has only been hours since and the wound refuse to heal when Roger’s become a shell, completely devoid of himself. It scares Andy beyond belief but when he thinks about how Roger must be feeling right now, his fear seems childish.
The forceful thrust of Roger’s hips against his fingers grabs Andy attention and lust. Roger wants this. He needs this. It’s his invitation for Andy to help him and Andy’s not going to refuse. He eases in a second finger and slow becomes hurried. Roger’s breath has turned into pants, low but rough in Andy’s ears. He opens his eyes, automatically looking down and focusing on Roger’s pale skin. It’s dark but not enough to hide the want on Roger’s face. His eyes are clenched, fingers curled against the sheets. He remains silent though, begging with his body instead. But Andy needs to hear him.
“Rogi, baby. Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
Andy can tell Roger’s fighting with himself as he jerkily pushes back onto his fingers. Andy stops the movement, not continuing until he gets what he wants.
“Tell me, Rogi.”
For a split second, he thinks Roger is going to pull away and Andy’s regrets it until he hears a low, “Fuck me, Andy.” He barely hears it as it’s whispered against the cooled air. The words are dripping with familiar want and it sets Andy off. He props himself onto his elbow as he pulls his fingers out. He looks around for their bags, but Roger stops him from leaving the bed. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes are pleading. Please, Andy. I need this. I need to feel this. To know that this is real. That you are real. His heart heavy, Andy settles back and spits into his hand. He covers his cock as much as he can before he lets it rest against Roger. Their skin is hot but it doesn’t prevent Andy from pressing against Roger completely, from head to toe, covering him like a blanket. He hears Roger’s breath catch in his throat when he’s inside, his body stretch against his. His places a kiss to Roger’s unruly curls as he begins to move his hips, his fingers curling and twirling in the hair on his stomach, up and down. The bump of Roger’s cock against his hand reassures Andy and he keeps his thrusts steady.
Roger keeps his eyes closed in hopes to forget everything but Andy. He can’t explain it to himself, his breakdown, so how is he supposed to justify it to the world? Andy is the only one that didn’t bombard him with questions, didn’t add to his misery by pitying him. Even Mirka did but he doesn’t blame her. She has every right to be disappointed in him. He knows he is. But not Andy. He just came to him when he was supposed to be catching a flight, wrapped him up in his embrace and took him away. He knows Andy’s more than a little worried and that hurts even more because Roger doesn’t want to cause anymore trouble than he has. In this moment, all he needs is Andy; his comfort, his kisses, his undeserved love.
Fingers slide from Roger’s stomach to his cock and he arches his back, reveling in the feel, in the need. Andy trails kisses along his neck, light butterfly touches. Stroke for stroke, Andy feels Roger muscles bunch underneath his lips, his orgasm impending. He keeps his pace though, wanting to last forever if he could. Roger closes his fingers around Andy’s, not dictating or assisting but in need of feeling Andy against every inch of his skin. He lets himself feel; the coarse hairs on Andy’s thighs rubbing against the backs of his, Andy’s heart hammering across the expanse of his back, the pulsating cock inside him. Best of all, he loves the kisses Andy trails on his shoulders and neck, interspersing them with whispered words. For a moment, Roger can forget his misery.
There’s a sudden whirlwind of sensations bombarding Roger all at once. Fingers tighten around him. Teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder. Andy’s cock presses in harder, deeper. He lets out a low gasp, the air heavy in his lungs, as his orgasm rips through him. He shudders when he feels a pulse, then another and another, until Andy is completely spent within him. Roger reaches a hand back to rest on Andy’s hips, preventing him from withdrawing.
With a sigh and a soft kiss to warm skin, they drift asleep.
+
The sun is bright and pleasant against Andy’s skin, slowly breaking his sleepy state. When he opens his eyes, the sight of Roger’s relaxed body places a broad smile on his lips. He inches a little closer. Roger is resting his head on his right hand, palm open and soft. Gone are the wrinkles on his forehead but although lighter than before, dark circles still mar the skin under his eyes. With a shaky hand, Andy carefully places his index finger against the apple of Roger’s cheek, barely touching the skin. He lets it run up and down, slowly, precisely, tracing hard angles and soft skin. He lets out a chuckle when Roger scrunches his nose when Andy runs his finger down the bridge. Eyelashes flutter, refusing to fully open. But Andy remains resilient. He leans in and places butterfly kisses all over Roger’s face, leaving the last few for his eyelids. A smile curves Roger’s lips and Andy feels the tension, that’s been occupying his body since the previous day, melt away. Brown eyes stare into him, sleep still clinging to the edges. Andy slips his fingers into Roger’s hair, the touch leaving a feeling of serenity.
The smile on Andy’s face says it all. Roger knows he’s loved, cared for. He has never doubted that but sometimes he wonders why. But in this morning, in this particular moment, he doesn’t need reasons. Yesterday had hurt more than Roger thought was possible. He still feels that pain resonating within him but what was once excruciating and unbearable now is a dull pulsation. The night before has put so much into perspective and he’s wants nothing more than to put the Australian Open, Rafa and disappointment of the loss behind him. Rather he’s wants to get lost in the moment, in a world where no one else exists but Andy and himself.
~
After spending most of the morning trying to get up with lazy kisses, Andy is successful in getting them both showered and fed before making their way down to the beach. The bright blue water is astounding and captures their attention as they sit together on the edge of the sand, getting their feet wet as they reveling in having some much needed time alone. Although Roger still hasn’t said much, Andy’s fears have dispersed substantially.
Eventually, Andy drags them back to where he placed their towels and beach umbrella, setting up an all day lazy day full with food and entertainment! With the umbrella shielding the fierce rays of the sun, Andy pops open the cooler and reaches for an ice cold water, passing one to Roger as well. They both didn’t realize how dehydrated they are as they both polish of the bottles in seconds. Roger hands the empty to Andy with a shy smile as he settles back onto the towel. Within seconds, his eyes close as he is lulled by the sounds of the ocean waves.
Andy watches him, letting his eyes roam the expanse of the shirtless body in front of him. Roger’s skin is darker than his own, but still light, pale even, making the red spots from the heat appear angry. His gaze follows the patch of hair on his chest, surrounding his pink nipples, to trail leading to the waistband of his shorts, disappearing. Roger brings a hand to his chest, laying it there as his hips wiggle to find comfort against the grainy sand. Andy grins as he moves closer, a plan formulating in his wonderfully evil mind.
Stopping at the cooler once more, Andy grabs a couple pieces of ice, the cubes melting quite quickly. So he doesn’t waste any time to straddle Roger’s hips. One ice cube is popped into his mouth while the other is massaged in to Roger’s nipples. Roger cries out, hips bucking, surprised and aroused. His eyes open wide when Andy presses their mouths together, the ice numbing his senses as Andy does his best to reawaken them. Soon, all that is left is water that is pushed back and forth between the two mouth, tongues fucking each other madly. The slow grind of Andy’s hips against his cock drives Roger crazy. He flips them over, not worried when Andy’s body connects with the sand with a thud!. Roger has both of their swim shorts down past their thighs and wraps an eager hand around both arousals. His strokes are clumsy with need but Roger’s too busy looking around for something he can use as lube. He lets out a frustrated growl as he leaves Andy to ravish the area. As a last resort, he whips open the cooler. He looks down at the contents, his gaze falling on a cylinder object before looking back to Andy.
Unfortunately (or fortunately if you ask either man), the strawberries were not eaten with whipped cream.
+
Six days go by; every minute of every hour was spent together. The sands on the beach must have been very sick of them, as they took advantage of the vast expanse that was completely theirs. They did stay indoors as well. Andy will never forget the day they almost burnt the house down after attempting a barbeque. They both have previous experience with a grill, but this one proved to be tricky. Any was happy to hand the control over to Roger, whose confidence seemed to be restored. He seemed to be making progress until there was a boom! and the grill caught on fire. Andy thought his sides were going to split from laughter.
On the third night, they jumped into the hot tub, which proved to be exactly what they needed for their sore muscles and skin. Thank God, it disinfects itself. No matter how they filled their days, they’re happy to have this time together.
The seventh and final day finds Andy and Roger lounging on the couch together, escaping the heat to watch mindless television. Roger’s not really paying attention but he’s more than happy to just lie here and appreciate Andy’s fingers on his scalp, giving him time to reminisce over the last week.
Andy did more than he had to for Roger when he planned out this impromptu getaway. Everything has been picture perfect; the weather, the beach, the atmosphere. And Roger’s not going to forget the man who set all this up. Andy has shown his love and support in every way he could without being suffocating or overwhelming. The fact that he still hasn’t forced Roger to talk about the final makes Roger all that more grateful that he has Andy in his life. He may not want to talk about it, but that doesn’t mean that tennis is no longer in his life.
“Hey, Andy?”
“Hmm?”
“When we got here, you said something about tennis courts?”
Andy looks down, searching Roger’s eyes. “Yeah. This place has a pretty decent one.”
“Can we check it out?”
Andy leans in and places a soft kiss to Roger, lips curling in a smile. “Sure. But we’ll have to look around for racquets.”
Roger nods as he burrows a little closer.
~
It’s been about an hour that they’ve been searching for the equipment. They have looked all over the house, first inside in all the closets and such then outside in and around the shed.
“Maybe we should just give up, Rog?”
Roger lets out a chuckle as he comes from behind to wrap Andy in a hug.
“Ok. Can we still go down to the courts though?”
Andy turns around, kisses him and leads the way. It’s not too far off, just in the north direction of the house, away from the beach. Andy pushes the gate aside, letting Roger step onto the courts first.
Slowly, Roger walks across the hard surface, wind slightly blowing around him. When he reaches the net, his fingers trail across the vinyl band. This is what he’s lived for, all that surrounds him. He closes his eyes and sees himself, on the baseline tossing the fuzzy neon ball in the air before pushing off the ground and slamming it down with his racquet, screams and cheers loud in his ears. It fills him, his body, his heart. This is who he is.
A hand on his shoulder breaks his reverie and his eyes open to see Andy smiling at him, love evident on his features. He reaches out and brings Andy to stand next to him. He wraps a hand around his waist, pressing their hips and shoulders together.
Together, they stand in the middle of the empty tennis court until the sun slowly drifts away. It’s time to go.
Pairing: Andy Roddick/Roger Federer
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not true
Summary: After the AO final, Andy takes Roger on a little getaway. Angst. Fluff
What if we could
Put our lives on
Hold and meet some
Where inside of the world
I would meet you
Would you meet me?
--Blue October's What If We Could
“So he’s not doing anything?”
Mirka’s sigh is loud in his ears. “No. He’s just lying in bed, staring into space. He won’t get up, eat, or even talk. I’m more than a little worried, Andy.”
“Is… Is… Is he still…?”
“No... He hasn’t since we left Melbourne Park. I wouldn’t be so worried if he was because at least he’d be doing something. I know its stupid but I-I check to see if he’s still breathing.”
Andy closes his eyes for a second, his muscles suddenly tense. “Just hold on, Mirka. I’m almost there. Just give me ten minutes.”
“Andy, what are we going to do? I-I don’t know… I feel useless.”
“I’m going to take him away for a few days, ok? We’ll still be in Australia, Melbourne actually, but I think he’s to be out of the environment he’s in.”
“O-ok. Do you need me to get his things ready?”
“That would be great. Maybe just a bag or something. I’m almost there. I’ll see you in a few ok?”
“Ok, Andy.”
+
The sun is shining bright, as it always is at this time in the year in Australia, but Andy would have never known as darkness engulfs as he steps into the hotel room. Mirka greets him with a weary smile, trying to be strong. She lets him in without an exchange of words and leads him over to where Roger is. When he comes near the bed, the sight breaks Andy’s heart.
Roger is curled up into the fetal position facing the patio doors, his eyes red and open wide with dark circles. His hair is messy, some strands are stuck to his forehead, others sticking up every which direction. He doesn’t acknowledge Andy’s presence whatsoever, not even when Andy slides in behind him and wraps his arms around his waist. Andy looks back to Mirka with a frown and she looks like she going to cry. When Andy is about to say something, she waves him off with her hand and quickly exits the room. His arms tighten around Roger’s still frame, his body feeling weak against his own.
“Roger, baby. We’re going away for a few days, ok?” Andy’s voice is low, as though he’s speaking to a child. He hates himself for treating Roger this way but he doesn’t know how else to behave. With a kiss behind Roger’s ear, Andy closes his eyes and continues. “It’s a nice little place, not too far from here. About thirty minutes actually. It’ll be nice, just me and you. We haven’t done that in a long time.”
His words cease when he realized that he was just trying to fill the silence. Instead, Andy presses himself a little closer to Roger and he holds on tight. The whirl of the air conditioner is loud, rough in Andy’s ears but he lets it soothe him. He doesn’t know he’s asleep until he feels a tap on his shoulder. He looks up to see Mirka.
“You two should get going..”
With a yawn, Andy checks his watch and curses when he realizes that he’s been asleep for two hours! He does his best to get Roger up from the bed. With every act of compliance, Andy rewards him with a kiss but Roger still doesn’t respond, verbally or otherwise. He just allows Andy to dress him and get him in the car. With a kiss to Mirka’s cheek, Andy and Roger exit the hotel’s parking lot.
It’s only a thirty-minute drive, but Andy feels every second of it. Roger just sits with his hands collapses in his lap, eyes trained on nothing in front of him. Andy can’t help but look over to him every so often, just to make sure he’s still there. Finally, they pull up to the private residence, an off white villa overlooking the beach, the water so blue. The trees and plants surrounding it give it a homey feel, reassuring Andy’s doubt, just a little.
He shoulders both of their bags before stopping in front of the passenger side of the car and reaching for Roger. Roger’s fingers feel lifeless in his own. Andy pushes down the feeling of queasiness before leading them to the door. Within seconds, he has them inside and sets down their bags before enveloping Roger in a full bodied hug. Roger’s arms remain by his side.
“It’s late but are you hungry? I wouldn’t mind getting a bite to eat. It comes fully stocked so we’re staying in unless you want to leave. Hmm, maybe we should take a tour first?”
He’s talking to the air, Andy’s fully aware of that. He feels lost but for the sake of Roger, and his own, Andy remains strong. Roger just needs time. So Andy takes him by the hand and leads him around, pointing out which room will be theirs, the master bedroom with a comfy bed in the middle, large windows leading to the patio. It was fresh, breathable. There are other rooms, many more as it is two stories but they make their way to the kitchen. Still hand in hand, Andy walks over to the patio that’s off to the side, stopping to admire the view from above.
“This is pretty much relaxation heaven. There’s the beach, obviously, tennis courts, a swimming pool, a hot tub.” He smoothly throws out the bit about the courts, just in case Roger feels like jumping back in the saddle, per say. As expected, Roger remains silent, eyes vacant. Fighting the urge to sigh, he pulls Roger back inside and seats him at the table before turning to the fridge. He’s not much of a cook but they’ll manage. He prepares a couple sandwiches for them, along with some juice. Andy doesn’t realize how hungry is he as he quickly finishes his own before looking up and frowning. Roger hasn’t even touched his.
“Roger… You have to eat… At least one, ok?”
Roger looks down at the plate in front of him but doesn’t make any further movement. He stares at the sandwiches, they don’t look bad. Suddenly there’s a hand in front of his nose and it picks up a half.
“Come on, Rog. Take a bite… for me, please? With a cherry on top?”
When Roger looks up, Andy swears he sees a flash of the old Roger, his Roger but its gone just as quickly. Andy raises his hand with a smile as he brings the bread to Roger’s lips. Roger’s eyes flicker from the sandwich to Andy’s eyes and remain there as he opens his mouth and takes a bite. Andy lets out a shaky breath, caught up completely by Roger. Soon one half is gone and so is the second. When Andy lifts another, Roger shakes his head but Andy puts on a pout and Roger finds himself eating some more. Andy relents when the third half is devoured and leans in to kiss Roger’s lips lightly, unresponsive, but Andy doesn’t dwell on that too long. One little battle at a time.
After placing the dishes away, they go up to their room, exhaustion setting in. Andy’s still having conversations with himself, but he’s decided that he’s going to continue until Roger either tells him to shut up or actually talks to him. So Andy gets ready for bed, chatting idly about nothing as he strips and settles behind Roger. The familiarity of Roger’s warm body quiets any doubts Andy might have had about bringing him here. This is Roger, his Roger and he’ll do any and everything to make him whole again.
He curls his arm around Roger’s waist, resting his fingers against his stomach. Eyes fall shut then jerk open when Andy feels moist heat around his fingers. When Roger’s tongue flickers between the digits, Andy moans. Suddenly his fingers leave the warm cavern and are pressed against Roger’s entrance. This shakes Andy out of his lustful haze as he props himself on an elbow, looking down at Roger.
“Are you sure, Rog? We should just sleep.” Roger’s eyes are closed and remain so as he shakes his head and grips Andy’s wrist a little harder, pressing Andy’s finger a little harder against himself. This isn’t up for discussion.
Andy closes his eyes and he settles back against the pillow, breathing deep. Progression, he sees this as progression. He rather talk or sleep but then again, Andy will never deny Roger of sex, or of anything.
His finger breeches the tight opening slowly, his scent draws Andy to Roger, kissing his neck tenderly. He can hear Roger breathe, drawing in deep, holding it in his lungs and releasing it slowly. His body has relaxed, although not completely but it makes Andy happy nonetheless. Andy has never seen Roger as broken as he had today. Never before has Roger stopped everything, closing off even Andy, especially Andy. Andy swears he could feel a sharp blade carve into his heart when Roger was overwhelmed by his emotions; it has only been hours since and the wound refuse to heal when Roger’s become a shell, completely devoid of himself. It scares Andy beyond belief but when he thinks about how Roger must be feeling right now, his fear seems childish.
The forceful thrust of Roger’s hips against his fingers grabs Andy attention and lust. Roger wants this. He needs this. It’s his invitation for Andy to help him and Andy’s not going to refuse. He eases in a second finger and slow becomes hurried. Roger’s breath has turned into pants, low but rough in Andy’s ears. He opens his eyes, automatically looking down and focusing on Roger’s pale skin. It’s dark but not enough to hide the want on Roger’s face. His eyes are clenched, fingers curled against the sheets. He remains silent though, begging with his body instead. But Andy needs to hear him.
“Rogi, baby. Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
Andy can tell Roger’s fighting with himself as he jerkily pushes back onto his fingers. Andy stops the movement, not continuing until he gets what he wants.
“Tell me, Rogi.”
For a split second, he thinks Roger is going to pull away and Andy’s regrets it until he hears a low, “Fuck me, Andy.” He barely hears it as it’s whispered against the cooled air. The words are dripping with familiar want and it sets Andy off. He props himself onto his elbow as he pulls his fingers out. He looks around for their bags, but Roger stops him from leaving the bed. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes are pleading. Please, Andy. I need this. I need to feel this. To know that this is real. That you are real. His heart heavy, Andy settles back and spits into his hand. He covers his cock as much as he can before he lets it rest against Roger. Their skin is hot but it doesn’t prevent Andy from pressing against Roger completely, from head to toe, covering him like a blanket. He hears Roger’s breath catch in his throat when he’s inside, his body stretch against his. His places a kiss to Roger’s unruly curls as he begins to move his hips, his fingers curling and twirling in the hair on his stomach, up and down. The bump of Roger’s cock against his hand reassures Andy and he keeps his thrusts steady.
Roger keeps his eyes closed in hopes to forget everything but Andy. He can’t explain it to himself, his breakdown, so how is he supposed to justify it to the world? Andy is the only one that didn’t bombard him with questions, didn’t add to his misery by pitying him. Even Mirka did but he doesn’t blame her. She has every right to be disappointed in him. He knows he is. But not Andy. He just came to him when he was supposed to be catching a flight, wrapped him up in his embrace and took him away. He knows Andy’s more than a little worried and that hurts even more because Roger doesn’t want to cause anymore trouble than he has. In this moment, all he needs is Andy; his comfort, his kisses, his undeserved love.
Fingers slide from Roger’s stomach to his cock and he arches his back, reveling in the feel, in the need. Andy trails kisses along his neck, light butterfly touches. Stroke for stroke, Andy feels Roger muscles bunch underneath his lips, his orgasm impending. He keeps his pace though, wanting to last forever if he could. Roger closes his fingers around Andy’s, not dictating or assisting but in need of feeling Andy against every inch of his skin. He lets himself feel; the coarse hairs on Andy’s thighs rubbing against the backs of his, Andy’s heart hammering across the expanse of his back, the pulsating cock inside him. Best of all, he loves the kisses Andy trails on his shoulders and neck, interspersing them with whispered words. For a moment, Roger can forget his misery.
There’s a sudden whirlwind of sensations bombarding Roger all at once. Fingers tighten around him. Teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder. Andy’s cock presses in harder, deeper. He lets out a low gasp, the air heavy in his lungs, as his orgasm rips through him. He shudders when he feels a pulse, then another and another, until Andy is completely spent within him. Roger reaches a hand back to rest on Andy’s hips, preventing him from withdrawing.
With a sigh and a soft kiss to warm skin, they drift asleep.
+
The sun is bright and pleasant against Andy’s skin, slowly breaking his sleepy state. When he opens his eyes, the sight of Roger’s relaxed body places a broad smile on his lips. He inches a little closer. Roger is resting his head on his right hand, palm open and soft. Gone are the wrinkles on his forehead but although lighter than before, dark circles still mar the skin under his eyes. With a shaky hand, Andy carefully places his index finger against the apple of Roger’s cheek, barely touching the skin. He lets it run up and down, slowly, precisely, tracing hard angles and soft skin. He lets out a chuckle when Roger scrunches his nose when Andy runs his finger down the bridge. Eyelashes flutter, refusing to fully open. But Andy remains resilient. He leans in and places butterfly kisses all over Roger’s face, leaving the last few for his eyelids. A smile curves Roger’s lips and Andy feels the tension, that’s been occupying his body since the previous day, melt away. Brown eyes stare into him, sleep still clinging to the edges. Andy slips his fingers into Roger’s hair, the touch leaving a feeling of serenity.
The smile on Andy’s face says it all. Roger knows he’s loved, cared for. He has never doubted that but sometimes he wonders why. But in this morning, in this particular moment, he doesn’t need reasons. Yesterday had hurt more than Roger thought was possible. He still feels that pain resonating within him but what was once excruciating and unbearable now is a dull pulsation. The night before has put so much into perspective and he’s wants nothing more than to put the Australian Open, Rafa and disappointment of the loss behind him. Rather he’s wants to get lost in the moment, in a world where no one else exists but Andy and himself.
~
After spending most of the morning trying to get up with lazy kisses, Andy is successful in getting them both showered and fed before making their way down to the beach. The bright blue water is astounding and captures their attention as they sit together on the edge of the sand, getting their feet wet as they reveling in having some much needed time alone. Although Roger still hasn’t said much, Andy’s fears have dispersed substantially.
Eventually, Andy drags them back to where he placed their towels and beach umbrella, setting up an all day lazy day full with food and entertainment! With the umbrella shielding the fierce rays of the sun, Andy pops open the cooler and reaches for an ice cold water, passing one to Roger as well. They both didn’t realize how dehydrated they are as they both polish of the bottles in seconds. Roger hands the empty to Andy with a shy smile as he settles back onto the towel. Within seconds, his eyes close as he is lulled by the sounds of the ocean waves.
Andy watches him, letting his eyes roam the expanse of the shirtless body in front of him. Roger’s skin is darker than his own, but still light, pale even, making the red spots from the heat appear angry. His gaze follows the patch of hair on his chest, surrounding his pink nipples, to trail leading to the waistband of his shorts, disappearing. Roger brings a hand to his chest, laying it there as his hips wiggle to find comfort against the grainy sand. Andy grins as he moves closer, a plan formulating in his wonderfully evil mind.
Stopping at the cooler once more, Andy grabs a couple pieces of ice, the cubes melting quite quickly. So he doesn’t waste any time to straddle Roger’s hips. One ice cube is popped into his mouth while the other is massaged in to Roger’s nipples. Roger cries out, hips bucking, surprised and aroused. His eyes open wide when Andy presses their mouths together, the ice numbing his senses as Andy does his best to reawaken them. Soon, all that is left is water that is pushed back and forth between the two mouth, tongues fucking each other madly. The slow grind of Andy’s hips against his cock drives Roger crazy. He flips them over, not worried when Andy’s body connects with the sand with a thud!. Roger has both of their swim shorts down past their thighs and wraps an eager hand around both arousals. His strokes are clumsy with need but Roger’s too busy looking around for something he can use as lube. He lets out a frustrated growl as he leaves Andy to ravish the area. As a last resort, he whips open the cooler. He looks down at the contents, his gaze falling on a cylinder object before looking back to Andy.
Unfortunately (or fortunately if you ask either man), the strawberries were not eaten with whipped cream.
+
Six days go by; every minute of every hour was spent together. The sands on the beach must have been very sick of them, as they took advantage of the vast expanse that was completely theirs. They did stay indoors as well. Andy will never forget the day they almost burnt the house down after attempting a barbeque. They both have previous experience with a grill, but this one proved to be tricky. Any was happy to hand the control over to Roger, whose confidence seemed to be restored. He seemed to be making progress until there was a boom! and the grill caught on fire. Andy thought his sides were going to split from laughter.
On the third night, they jumped into the hot tub, which proved to be exactly what they needed for their sore muscles and skin. Thank God, it disinfects itself. No matter how they filled their days, they’re happy to have this time together.
The seventh and final day finds Andy and Roger lounging on the couch together, escaping the heat to watch mindless television. Roger’s not really paying attention but he’s more than happy to just lie here and appreciate Andy’s fingers on his scalp, giving him time to reminisce over the last week.
Andy did more than he had to for Roger when he planned out this impromptu getaway. Everything has been picture perfect; the weather, the beach, the atmosphere. And Roger’s not going to forget the man who set all this up. Andy has shown his love and support in every way he could without being suffocating or overwhelming. The fact that he still hasn’t forced Roger to talk about the final makes Roger all that more grateful that he has Andy in his life. He may not want to talk about it, but that doesn’t mean that tennis is no longer in his life.
“Hey, Andy?”
“Hmm?”
“When we got here, you said something about tennis courts?”
Andy looks down, searching Roger’s eyes. “Yeah. This place has a pretty decent one.”
“Can we check it out?”
Andy leans in and places a soft kiss to Roger, lips curling in a smile. “Sure. But we’ll have to look around for racquets.”
Roger nods as he burrows a little closer.
~
It’s been about an hour that they’ve been searching for the equipment. They have looked all over the house, first inside in all the closets and such then outside in and around the shed.
“Maybe we should just give up, Rog?”
Roger lets out a chuckle as he comes from behind to wrap Andy in a hug.
“Ok. Can we still go down to the courts though?”
Andy turns around, kisses him and leads the way. It’s not too far off, just in the north direction of the house, away from the beach. Andy pushes the gate aside, letting Roger step onto the courts first.
Slowly, Roger walks across the hard surface, wind slightly blowing around him. When he reaches the net, his fingers trail across the vinyl band. This is what he’s lived for, all that surrounds him. He closes his eyes and sees himself, on the baseline tossing the fuzzy neon ball in the air before pushing off the ground and slamming it down with his racquet, screams and cheers loud in his ears. It fills him, his body, his heart. This is who he is.
A hand on his shoulder breaks his reverie and his eyes open to see Andy smiling at him, love evident on his features. He reaches out and brings Andy to stand next to him. He wraps a hand around his waist, pressing their hips and shoulders together.
Together, they stand in the middle of the empty tennis court until the sun slowly drifts away. It’s time to go.