tennis slash - Too Many Words
Title: Too Many Words
Author: Kris S.
Fandom: Tennis RPS
Pairing: Dmitry Tursunov/Mikhail Youzhny
Other Player: Marat Safin (plus bonus pairing)
Rating: R (I think)
Disclaimer: This did not happen.
Summary: Mikhail hears Dmitry tell a story and he’s tired of hearing his voice.
Author’s Note: Filling request for tennizfanhahaha. I was surprised this became more than a drabble but I've been wanting to write Mischa fic for a long time so couldn't resist.
Mikhail hears Dmitry tell a story to the rest of the table and he’s simply tired of hearing his voice. He looks over to Marat, the person Dmitry is trying to draw with this story, and he’s preoccupied with his phone as he texts a message. Marat is nodding along but he chuckles at the wrong time.
Finally, Dmitry catches on, snapping, “So that is more important?”
Marat shrugs but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. “Not every day that I get to pretend I’m Mardy because Tommy doesn’t realize he’s got two message windows open and giving the wrong message to the wrong person.” He looks down at the screen and smiles. “Mardy! I didn’t think you were that kinky.”
“Rotten jerk,” Dmitry mutters under his breath. Mikhail can tell the blond is ready to blow so he quickly gets up from his chair and drags Dmitry away.
When they’re out of the room, Dmitry shouts, “I have the right to be mad that I’m being ignored!”
Mikhail still has his hand on Dmitry’s arm and feels the need to shove him toward the wall to make a point. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not into you.”
“One, I don’t care. Two, you don’t know that.”
“Dima, he would rather screw with Tommy’s brain than listen to your story. I wish I hadn’t left mine in my jacket or else I’d do the same thing. You’re irritating.”
Dmitry wants to answer but something catches his attention as he looks up at Mikhail. His voice is low and sultry when he says, “What makes you so sure it was Marat I was trying to impress?”
“You just said…”
“You were watching Marat.”
Mikhail shrugs. “It was kind of hard to overlook what he was doing.”
“Yet you find it easy to ignore me.”
Mikhail gives him a cold stare. He doesn’t know how it’s possible that he can find the constant chatter so infuriating yet forget all that when Dmitry is finally silent and glaring straight through him as he is right now. Challenging for a reply.
The words seem to escape him, so instead he pushes Dmitry again. There may have been a noise resembling a growl but Mikhail would never admit that as their mouths met. Dmitry tries to interrupt but he’s not being given the chance.
If he’d allowed Dmitry to speak, it probably would have been to the effect that he was shocked by this turn of events. That they were in a hallway and Marat, or another member of the Davis Cup team, could catch them any minute.
The thing that Dmitry would soon figure out, if he hasn’t already, is that it’s difficult to get through to Mikhail when he’s annoyed. Even if that means that Dmitry’s jeans are undone and a hand is slipped in his boxers.
He doesn’t know if there are any feelings reciprocated, although that Dmitry seemed a bit jealous earlier is a positive sign. Definitely the movements are being copied along, their bodies pressing closer as hands are busy for as quick a release as possible.
He’s just about to let go when their mouths are briefly apart and there returns the incessant voice coming from the other end to ruin this moment. To remind that Mikhail is not supposed to be interested in this man, because it’s purely physical and there’s nothing else to this encounter. Especially since there’s still the stream of words.
Mikhail leans over to Dmitry’s ear and whispers, “Can you ever be quiet?”
Dmitry narrows his eyes to glare at the other man, then replies in a challenging voice, “You’re going to have to do better than this next time.”