you gave it all but i want more
post-wimbly roger/rafa! considering how deliriously happy i am about the result, i'm not sure why i wrote something kind of angsty. although there is more ridic roadtrip fic in the works. anyway, this is part of the i know you know 'verse, and will probably make more sense if you read that first. warning for infidelity if that's not your thing. lovelove.
Rafa finding him alone in his hotel room the day after he won was entirely unexpected.
"Hola," he said, smiling when Roger opened the door and blinked at him.
"Hi," said Roger slowly.
"Seven now," said Rafa.
Roger grinned. He couldn't help it; it felt so good. Rafa hadn't really said anything to merit it but he said "Thanks," anyway, because it was still there, if unspoken.
"We go eat?" Rafa cocked his head.
"You want to take me out to dinner?" Roger laughed a little.
Rafa shrugged. "I want to say congratulations," he said. "You have better way?"
Roger pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, then said, "You could suck my cock." It was exhilarating and a little bit horrible all at once, how selfish he felt in that moment.
Rafa looked at him for a long time. "Okay," he said at last.
"I…really?" Roger blinked. This thing between them, it was…well, they hadn't done this in a long time. Rafa had been closed off, in that area at least, and probably rightly so, since the girls. Sometimes Roger felt bad, like he was pushing Rafa to be a kind of person he wasn't, a-- well, a bad person. A person who did things like this.
Still, Rafa wasn't the one who'd suggested it, and Roger felt better, oddly, knowing the guilt he'd wallow in later. About Rafa, and his family, all of it. But just…later.
He also felt bad about feeling better, but he pushed it aside, because that was just leading to a ridiculous cycle he'd never get out of.
He'd gotten good at compartmentalising, over the years. It was necessary, when there were too many things you couldn't do without. Selfish, but necessary.
"You think I say no?" said Rafa quietly, moving towards Roger, close but not touching.
"I don't know," said Roger honestly. "Worth a shot, right?"
"I tell you already, remember?" Rafa's voice was low and raw, a little pained. "You ask, I say yes."
"Rafa, this isn't…" Roger trailed off, eyes skimming over the closed-off lines of Rafa's mouth, the thin skin about his eyes. "I wish you wouldn't. I don't-- this isn't fair."
"For you?" said Rafa. "Or for me?"
"You," said Roger. Or both, really. He felt selfish enough already without saying it though.
"If you don't want me to say yes, you don't ask," said Rafa simply.
"I can't," said Roger. It was true. He didn't know why, it was awful and wonderful and somehow so vital, this thing they had, and yet he always thought he could do it right up until he saw Rafa, and then it just seemed stupid, to imagine something so impossible.
"I know," whispered Rafa.
Roger shook his head. "We should stop talking about it then," he said.
"Si," said Rafa, and reached out finally to touch Roger, curling two hands over his hips and pushing him back to stand beside the bed.
"Like this," he said, sitting down and tugging Roger close between his knees. "Hurt too much, otherwise."
Roger reached out to skim the tips of his fingers over the pointed, prominent bones in Rafa's knees.
Rafa looked up at him through his hair, dark and wanting and happy and unhappy all at once, too much, and Roger pulled his hand back, resettled it in Rafa's hair, and said, "Sorry."
Rafa shook his head and tugged Roger's pants open, swallowed him down without preamble or much finesse, sloppy and sharp and a little desperate.
"Shit," groaned Roger on a breath, tipping his head back.
It was easier to look at the ceiling than Rafa, eased the tightness in his chest a little even if all he wanted was to see Rafa's slick pink mouth wrapped around his dick.
Rafa pulled off though, and said, "You look. You ask, you look. Don't pretend is not me."
"I couldn't," said Roger, but turned his eyes back to meet Rafa's.
Rafa quirked a smile at him then, and sucked Roger's cock back into his mouth.
It didn't take long. Roger was still too keyed-up from everything, from winning and all the things that came along with it this time, and also Rafa here in his hotel with his hands on Roger's hips and his mouth working sloppy and sinful to get him off just because Roger had asked.
When he came he held Rafa close with a hand tangled in his hair and shuddered a bit at the way Rafa choked on it, hands tightening to bruising on Roger's skin.
Their eyes met when Roger finally loosened his hand and Rafa pulled away, neither of them with their breath caught yet, and Rafa traced a thumb along the ridge of Roger's right hipbone.
He said, almost jokingly, "Is okay."
"Yeah," said Roger. It wasn't really, but in this moment at least it was, and that was enough. For now.
Rafa finding him alone in his hotel room the day after he won was entirely unexpected.
"Hola," he said, smiling when Roger opened the door and blinked at him.
"Hi," said Roger slowly.
"Seven now," said Rafa.
Roger grinned. He couldn't help it; it felt so good. Rafa hadn't really said anything to merit it but he said "Thanks," anyway, because it was still there, if unspoken.
"We go eat?" Rafa cocked his head.
"You want to take me out to dinner?" Roger laughed a little.
Rafa shrugged. "I want to say congratulations," he said. "You have better way?"
Roger pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, then said, "You could suck my cock." It was exhilarating and a little bit horrible all at once, how selfish he felt in that moment.
Rafa looked at him for a long time. "Okay," he said at last.
"I…really?" Roger blinked. This thing between them, it was…well, they hadn't done this in a long time. Rafa had been closed off, in that area at least, and probably rightly so, since the girls. Sometimes Roger felt bad, like he was pushing Rafa to be a kind of person he wasn't, a-- well, a bad person. A person who did things like this.
Still, Rafa wasn't the one who'd suggested it, and Roger felt better, oddly, knowing the guilt he'd wallow in later. About Rafa, and his family, all of it. But just…later.
He also felt bad about feeling better, but he pushed it aside, because that was just leading to a ridiculous cycle he'd never get out of.
He'd gotten good at compartmentalising, over the years. It was necessary, when there were too many things you couldn't do without. Selfish, but necessary.
"You think I say no?" said Rafa quietly, moving towards Roger, close but not touching.
"I don't know," said Roger honestly. "Worth a shot, right?"
"I tell you already, remember?" Rafa's voice was low and raw, a little pained. "You ask, I say yes."
"Rafa, this isn't…" Roger trailed off, eyes skimming over the closed-off lines of Rafa's mouth, the thin skin about his eyes. "I wish you wouldn't. I don't-- this isn't fair."
"For you?" said Rafa. "Or for me?"
"You," said Roger. Or both, really. He felt selfish enough already without saying it though.
"If you don't want me to say yes, you don't ask," said Rafa simply.
"I can't," said Roger. It was true. He didn't know why, it was awful and wonderful and somehow so vital, this thing they had, and yet he always thought he could do it right up until he saw Rafa, and then it just seemed stupid, to imagine something so impossible.
"I know," whispered Rafa.
Roger shook his head. "We should stop talking about it then," he said.
"Si," said Rafa, and reached out finally to touch Roger, curling two hands over his hips and pushing him back to stand beside the bed.
"Like this," he said, sitting down and tugging Roger close between his knees. "Hurt too much, otherwise."
Roger reached out to skim the tips of his fingers over the pointed, prominent bones in Rafa's knees.
Rafa looked up at him through his hair, dark and wanting and happy and unhappy all at once, too much, and Roger pulled his hand back, resettled it in Rafa's hair, and said, "Sorry."
Rafa shook his head and tugged Roger's pants open, swallowed him down without preamble or much finesse, sloppy and sharp and a little desperate.
"Shit," groaned Roger on a breath, tipping his head back.
It was easier to look at the ceiling than Rafa, eased the tightness in his chest a little even if all he wanted was to see Rafa's slick pink mouth wrapped around his dick.
Rafa pulled off though, and said, "You look. You ask, you look. Don't pretend is not me."
"I couldn't," said Roger, but turned his eyes back to meet Rafa's.
Rafa quirked a smile at him then, and sucked Roger's cock back into his mouth.
It didn't take long. Roger was still too keyed-up from everything, from winning and all the things that came along with it this time, and also Rafa here in his hotel with his hands on Roger's hips and his mouth working sloppy and sinful to get him off just because Roger had asked.
When he came he held Rafa close with a hand tangled in his hair and shuddered a bit at the way Rafa choked on it, hands tightening to bruising on Roger's skin.
Their eyes met when Roger finally loosened his hand and Rafa pulled away, neither of them with their breath caught yet, and Rafa traced a thumb along the ridge of Roger's right hipbone.
He said, almost jokingly, "Is okay."
"Yeah," said Roger. It wasn't really, but in this moment at least it was, and that was enough. For now.