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May. 30th, 2005 01:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloficTitle: Underneath (1/2)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Andy comes up with a dare for a shy Roger and decides to join in to make it easier.
Notes: Just a plotbunny that’s been gnawing at me for a while, kicked off I think by a certain guy-who-shall-not-be-named mentioning how often his flat hang out in their rooms with no clothes on. (Three words; students, expensive laundrette. Need I say more? ^__~) Pretty safe fluff and smut, I think, more than a little silly if you ask me. :) But all in good fun.
Disclaimer: Mine? Nope. Never have been, never will be.
Underneath
Monday: 11:57pm
Golden, like cookies browned to perfection, the way Andy can never quite seem to get them like the ones from the store. Or like the best precious metal in the world, only better because it’s warm, alive beneath his hands and shadowed with the flush of sex in the dark room, Roger moaning over him as Andy rubs his hands across the Swiss’ sweat-slick skin. Dark curls of chest hair that catch between his fingers, fascinating because Andy’s never been with anyone this hairy and he teased Roger about being like a teddy bear once, before he realised how sensitive the Swiss was about his body and apologised.
It still amazes him that someone so beautiful can be so insecure, especially when he’s seen Roger play and knows how comfortable the Swiss looks with himself. It’s all an act, golden skin and eyes so dark Andy sometimes can’t see the pupil, just a cover for the uncertainty beneath. As he comes, Roger’s muscles flexing around him and the Swiss gasping out his name, Andy decides it’s about time he did something about it.
And the opportunity presents itself a little later, after they’ve both caught their breath. Roger kisses him a final time and rolls over, reaching for his t-shirt that got thrown aside in the rush to get each other naked. Andy frowns at the Swiss’ back.
“Where’re you going?”
“Bathroom,” Roger replies, tugging the shirt over his head and turning to press a wet kiss to Andy’s mouth. “Won’t be a minute.”
“So why’d you need the shirt?” Andy glances at the bathroom door; Roger’s room has an en suite and it’s barely five paces from the bed. “There’s only me here Rog and I’ve seen it all before.”
“I still like to wear something.” Roger slides off the bed without looking back. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”
Dammit and that’s Roger’s way of warning him to leave it or start a fight. Andy bites his lip as the Swiss disappears into the bathroom. It’s the first night of their holiday week together and he doesn’t want to end it with an argument but he’s tired of Roger sidestepping the issue every time. He sits up in bed, wriggling back against the pillows and he’s leaning against them with his arms folded when Roger comes back into the room. The Swiss glances across to the bed and Andy sees him pause, take in the crossed arms and slight frown. There’s reluctance in his step as he walks back to the bed without looking at Andy and a heavy sigh as he sits down.
“Please don’t start Andy.”
“I’m not planning on it.” Andy gets an incredulous look for that and okay, so maybe he’s planning on ‘starting’ a little bit. “It’s just, I don’t get it Roger. We’ve been together what, four-“
“Five.”
“-five months now and you’re still not comfortable enough to walk around naked with me.” Andy bites his lip again because Roger’s not looking at him, sitting with his back to the American and head bowed. “Babe, is it something I said? Because that crack about the teddy bear, I swear, I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s not that.” Roger turns his head a little as Andy touches his shoulder. “I just don’t like to walk around without clothes. I… It feels…”
Andy slides across the space between them and wraps his arms around Roger from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of the Swiss’ neck through curls that taste of sweat and the salty spice of Roger’s skin. He feels Roger’s shiver against his mouth.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers and rubs his teeth lightly against the damp skin beneath his lips when Roger tenses. “You are, so just listen for a minute okay?” There’s a long second while he waits for Roger to relax, rewarding the Swiss with a lick up the bumps of his spine when he does and drawing out a choked breath that’s as close to a victory as Andy’s going to come right now. “You are beautiful and sexy and gorgeous. I’d love to watch you walk around with no clothes on. What’d you say we lose the t-shirt?”
Another shuddering breath, only this one is drawn through clenched teeth and Andy can see himself losing this battle if he doesn’t fight for it. He waits for Roger to start turning before yanking the t-shirt up over the Swiss’ head and scooting backwards across the bed with a laugh, stuffing his prize behind his back as Roger scrambles after him.
There’s a brief war in the tangle of sheets as Andy struggles to hold on to the shirt that’s simply cotton worn to paper-thinness and slightly damp in his hands but which right now is worth more than ten Grand Slam trophies because Roger’s trying all ways to get him to let go. The Swiss abandons an attempt at tickling and goes for Andy’s cock instead; his hot, wet mouth sliding over it is enough to make the American jolt up off the bed and slender fingers dart in to whip the shirt from under him as Roger sits back with a triumphant smile, t-shirt balled in one hand.
“Not fair,” Andy gasps out as he sits up. Roger’s smirking and the part of Andy that’s still tingling from the Swiss’ mouth insists he keep the play-fight going if there’s the promise of it leading to more sex. It’s with great reluctance that he overrides the urge and forces himself to stay still.
“Rog, I’m serious. It’s the middle of the night, the blinds are closed and we’re on the second floor. There’s no one here to see you but me. What’s wrong with walking around naked?”
“It makes me uncomfortable.” Roger’s smile fades and he looks down at his hands, playing with a frayed edge to the shirt. “It always has. I know I’m not—I don’t look like you.”
“But you’re gorgeous,” Andy protests, shifting so he’s kneeling in front of the Swiss with his hands resting on Roger’s hips. Roger won’t look at him, eyes still on the shirt that slender fingers are nervously unravelling. “Love, just because you’re not some dumb, blonde American doesn’t mean you aren’t hot.” A tiny shake of Roger’s head has him narrowing his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”
“You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to say that.” The Swiss shrugs and Andy grits his teeth against the urge to strangle whatever or whoever put such stupid ideas in Roger's head. Sitting with his head bowed, curls of hair clinging to damp skin, beaded sweat catching sparks of gold from the lamplight – Roger’s beautiful. More beautiful than Andy’s ever felt or knows he’ll ever feel, beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with models in glossy magazines, designed, posed, faked. Roger’s beautiful simply as he is. Andy doesn’t get why he can’t see that.
He leans forward, curling a hand through the Swiss’ hair and pulling him into a kiss that’s as hard as he can bring himself to make it, taking Roger’s mouth, claiming every inch of it until Roger’s shaking and tiny sounds of want are vibrating through his whole body. Only when the Swiss’ hands start to touch his hips does Andy pull back, lips red and wet as he smirks.
“Do you want me?” Soft challenge, suggestion in every word. Roger’s gasping for air and he shudders at the seductive tone to Andy’s voice.
“Andy, please...”
“Do you?” Andy gently tugs at his fistful of hair, barely enough to pull but enough to tilt the Swiss’ head up. Dark eyes that are wide with confusion meet his and it’s almost enough to break his resolve. Almost.
“Andy I—“ Roger swallows and licks his lips, still swollen from the kiss. “Yes.”
“Then you’ll have to come and get me.” Sliding backwards until he finds the edge of the bed, Andy catches the incredulity that crosses Roger’s face. “I’m going to get a glass of water. You know where the kitchen is if you want to find me.”
“Andy—“
“I’ll be downstairs.” Crossing the room, Andy lets his hips sway a little and doesn’t need to look back to know Roger’s shivering with want. “Oh and one more thing.” A glance back, barely holding back a moan at the sight of a flushed, naked Roger, kneeling on the bed and staring at him in disbelief. “Don’t you dare bring the t-shirt.”
~~~
Tuesday: 1:16am
‘Bad, bad plan Andy’ the American tells himself as he leans against the kitchen countertop, wondering if he can outwait Roger’s stubbornness. It’s been over an hour and there’s no sign of Roger, no sound from upstairs. Andy’s starting to think his bluff’s been called.
Until there’s a soft shuffle of feet at the door and Andy starts upright, rubbing his hands over his cold arms. There’s a row of tiny lights set above the door and he’d turned them on when he first came down after a brief fight with himself over whether or not Roger would be more comfortable in darkness, changing the shadows from greyish black to a softer brown. Their light glows around Roger as he steps slowly into the room, wearing only the black leather necklace Andy had given him for their one week anniversary.
“Hey,” Andy says softly, forcing himself to stay still. If he makes a move, walks towards the Swiss, he might snap the fragile confidence he can see stretched to breaking point as Roger hesitates by the door. “Thought you might not come.”
“Hey.” Clear tension in the stiff set of the Swiss’ shoulders, in the way he twists his hands together uncomfortably and the way he’s biting his lip hard enough to break the skin. “I… I uh…”
“Roger.” Staying still be damned and Andy’s across the room, cupping his hand under the Swiss’ chin to tilt it up. He rubs his thumb across Roger’s bruised bottom lip, working it free from between sharp teeth. “Love, I’m the only one here. There’s no one to see ok?”
“I know.” Roger swallows and glances around. Andy feels more than hears the deep breath he takes as the Swiss relaxes against him. “I’m just not used to it you know?”
“What, you never been naked in your kitchen before?” Andy jokes, gets a blank look in reply. “Huh. I guess not.”
“Have you?” Roger demands. Andy grins, wrapping his arms around the other man to pull him closer and Roger lets him, resting his head on the American’s shoulder.
“Been naked in my kitchen?” Andy’s voice is low, amused. “Sure. My house is pretty hidden, has thick drapes. If I’m not going anywhere, if looking for clean clothes seems like too much trouble…”
“You aren’t serious?” Roger pulls back to look at him, disbelief and confusion in his eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Andy answers honestly after taking a second to think. He shifts his grip on the Swiss, leading him across to the table and pulling Roger between his knees when he sits on the edge. It gives him time to think of an answer that won’t be a lie or a joke, some genuine response for something he’s not really sure how to explain. He plays with the silver tennis racquet on Roger’s necklace while he thinks, absently twirling it between his thumb and forefinger and admiring the play of light on metal.
“It’s really…” He pauses. “It’s comfortable for one thing, especially when it’s hot in the middle of summer.”
“You have air conditioning.”
“Yeah and you know I hate my house feeling like a fridge.” Andy shrugs. “There’s something… sexy is the wrong word but it’s almost as if you feel more without clothes. It’s…”
“Sensual?” Roger suggests and Andy blinks, startled. He doesn’t know why it surprises him every time Roger finds the perfect word in language he’s only just the right side of being comfortable in, but it does. It reminds him he shouldn’t underestimate the Swiss as much as he does and when an idea flashes through his mind, makes him approach it more carefully, despite an urge to jump up and down with excitement. If he can talk Roger into it, he can see this being a very fun week but he’ll have to tread very carefully.
“So, you’ve never walked naked around your own house? Even after say, a shower?” Andy can’t help a smile as he leans down, pressing light, wet kisses along the curve of Roger’s neck, whispering his next words as he licks along the edge of the Swiss’ ear. “After sex?”
“No.” A soft gasp as Andy bites down and a moan when he rubs his tongue across the mark. “Not even then.”
“Doesn’t seem fair.” Andy slides his hands down to Roger’s ass, pulling the Swiss close. There’s nothing separating them, no jeans, no shirts and Roger’s already more than half hard, cock rubbing along Andy’s inner thigh. If there’s a smirk on the American’s face, he hides it in the trail of wet kisses he leaves along Roger’s neck. “You missing out on the experience I mean.”
“I can live without it.” Roger pushes his hips forward, rubbing their cocks together and his moan echoes Andy’s. “Andy… I came downstairs. I left the shirt. Please…”
“You did come downstairs naked for me,” Andy concedes with a forced air of reluctance. “I suppose that deserves a reward.”
“Ja. Bitte, please…” Roger lets out a cry as Andy curls a hand around his cock and rubs, hard. “Andy!”
“Sorry.” Andy slides off the table, keeping one hand loosely around Roger’s cock as he pushes the Swiss back, over to the counter. They hit it too hard and a whimper escapes Roger’s clenched teeth but Andy’s kissing him, fumbling behind them for the bottle of olive oil he knows is there and almost cracking the glass when his hand sends it skidding onto its side. It’s slick on his fingers as he fumbles open the lid one handed and upends it, spreading a pool of gold that glitters in the soft light, leaves glistening trails on Roger’s skin when Andy slips an oil-covered hand over his ass and thighs.
“Roger.” A whisper, barely audible over Roger’s moan when Andy pushes a finger into him. “Rog, what would you say to a… a dare, I guess? Something to do this week.”
“You don’t think we can find enough things to do?” Roger’s gasping, hair over his eyes and sweat trickling down his chest as Andy spreads his legs a little wider apart. “I can.”
“It won’t stop us doing that. Probably make it easier in fact.” Andy pushes a second finger in easily, Roger still stretched from earlier and only moaning a little louder at the new addition. “And I might just be able to make you believe how gorgeous you are.”
Hair hanging across his face in damp curls, skin flushed and breath coming in sharp gasps, Roger still manages to look suspicious. “Andy, what…”
“I dare you to stay naked for a week.” Andy smirks at the sharp intake of breath and takes the opportunity to replace his fingers with his cock, sliding all the way in. Roger’s shocked expression dissolves into bliss and his head tilts back with a choked cry. “Roger? I’ll move if you say yes.”
“You-“ Roger swears in German, entire body suddenly tense and Andy bites his tongue hard when the Swiss’s muscles clench on his cock. “You planned this.”
“Not as such.” Andy’s panting now, everything in him begging him to move in Roger. “Rog? Yes?”
“We can’t… we need to practice, to go out…”
“No tournaments for three weeks. You’ve got the gym in the basement, we can stay in shape.” Andy kisses him, soft and persuasive, sliding his tongue over Roger’s. “We’ve got more food than we’ll need. No one’s coming to visit. We can do this Roger.”
“We?” Roger’s stubbornness is beginning to melt and a smile is trying hard to find its way onto his lips beneath Andy’s. “You too?”
“No fun you doing it without me,” Andy breathes. “That a yes then?” He rocks his hips a little, just to give some incentive and Roger bucks against him with a moan.
“Yes. Okay. Move, please…”
With a grin of triumph Andy obliges, Roger bracing himself against the counter as the American fucks him with slow, deep strokes. For a long few minutes there’s no sound but their breathing and moans until Andy gets impatient, starts to speed up his thrusts until Roger’s begging him in a mix of English and German not to stop. Andy kisses him hard and fists a hand around the Swiss’ cock, moving it with his thrusts until Roger arcs up into him, coming hot and wet over Andy’s hand. Closing his eyes, Andy lets go and fills him in a rush, leaning on the Swiss for support as the orgasm makes him stagger.
“Huh,” he gasps when he finds his voice, countless minutes later. “We should fuck in the kitchen some more this week. I like it.”
“Andy—“
“Yes Roger, promises made during sex do count.” Andy straightens up, sliding his oil-streaked arms around the Swiss’ waist as he catches his breath. “Naked for a week. You said you’d do it.”
“It wasn’t fair and you know it.” There’s a whine to Roger’s tone but Andy long ago perfected the art of whining and Roger’s got a long way to go to catch up. He doesn’t even blink.
“Fair is that I said ‘No clothes this week’ and you said ‘yes’. Everything else? Doesn’t matter.” He grins, kissing the pout from Roger’s lips, bodies glued together with sweat and come as they lean back against the counter. Andy swallows Roger’s moan at the contact and pulls back a little, smiles. Roger's flushed, dishevelled, so very beautiful and Andy's really looking forward to this dare. “Naked for a week. Starting now.”
~~~
Concluding part up... sometime soon. This week I hope.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roddick/Federer
Summary: Andy comes up with a dare for a shy Roger and decides to join in to make it easier.
Notes: Just a plotbunny that’s been gnawing at me for a while, kicked off I think by a certain guy-who-shall-not-be-named mentioning how often his flat hang out in their rooms with no clothes on. (Three words; students, expensive laundrette. Need I say more? ^__~) Pretty safe fluff and smut, I think, more than a little silly if you ask me. :) But all in good fun.
Disclaimer: Mine? Nope. Never have been, never will be.
Monday: 11:57pm
Golden, like cookies browned to perfection, the way Andy can never quite seem to get them like the ones from the store. Or like the best precious metal in the world, only better because it’s warm, alive beneath his hands and shadowed with the flush of sex in the dark room, Roger moaning over him as Andy rubs his hands across the Swiss’ sweat-slick skin. Dark curls of chest hair that catch between his fingers, fascinating because Andy’s never been with anyone this hairy and he teased Roger about being like a teddy bear once, before he realised how sensitive the Swiss was about his body and apologised.
It still amazes him that someone so beautiful can be so insecure, especially when he’s seen Roger play and knows how comfortable the Swiss looks with himself. It’s all an act, golden skin and eyes so dark Andy sometimes can’t see the pupil, just a cover for the uncertainty beneath. As he comes, Roger’s muscles flexing around him and the Swiss gasping out his name, Andy decides it’s about time he did something about it.
And the opportunity presents itself a little later, after they’ve both caught their breath. Roger kisses him a final time and rolls over, reaching for his t-shirt that got thrown aside in the rush to get each other naked. Andy frowns at the Swiss’ back.
“Where’re you going?”
“Bathroom,” Roger replies, tugging the shirt over his head and turning to press a wet kiss to Andy’s mouth. “Won’t be a minute.”
“So why’d you need the shirt?” Andy glances at the bathroom door; Roger’s room has an en suite and it’s barely five paces from the bed. “There’s only me here Rog and I’ve seen it all before.”
“I still like to wear something.” Roger slides off the bed without looking back. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”
Dammit and that’s Roger’s way of warning him to leave it or start a fight. Andy bites his lip as the Swiss disappears into the bathroom. It’s the first night of their holiday week together and he doesn’t want to end it with an argument but he’s tired of Roger sidestepping the issue every time. He sits up in bed, wriggling back against the pillows and he’s leaning against them with his arms folded when Roger comes back into the room. The Swiss glances across to the bed and Andy sees him pause, take in the crossed arms and slight frown. There’s reluctance in his step as he walks back to the bed without looking at Andy and a heavy sigh as he sits down.
“Please don’t start Andy.”
“I’m not planning on it.” Andy gets an incredulous look for that and okay, so maybe he’s planning on ‘starting’ a little bit. “It’s just, I don’t get it Roger. We’ve been together what, four-“
“Five.”
“-five months now and you’re still not comfortable enough to walk around naked with me.” Andy bites his lip again because Roger’s not looking at him, sitting with his back to the American and head bowed. “Babe, is it something I said? Because that crack about the teddy bear, I swear, I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s not that.” Roger turns his head a little as Andy touches his shoulder. “I just don’t like to walk around without clothes. I… It feels…”
Andy slides across the space between them and wraps his arms around Roger from behind, pressing a kiss to the back of the Swiss’ neck through curls that taste of sweat and the salty spice of Roger’s skin. He feels Roger’s shiver against his mouth.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers and rubs his teeth lightly against the damp skin beneath his lips when Roger tenses. “You are, so just listen for a minute okay?” There’s a long second while he waits for Roger to relax, rewarding the Swiss with a lick up the bumps of his spine when he does and drawing out a choked breath that’s as close to a victory as Andy’s going to come right now. “You are beautiful and sexy and gorgeous. I’d love to watch you walk around with no clothes on. What’d you say we lose the t-shirt?”
Another shuddering breath, only this one is drawn through clenched teeth and Andy can see himself losing this battle if he doesn’t fight for it. He waits for Roger to start turning before yanking the t-shirt up over the Swiss’ head and scooting backwards across the bed with a laugh, stuffing his prize behind his back as Roger scrambles after him.
There’s a brief war in the tangle of sheets as Andy struggles to hold on to the shirt that’s simply cotton worn to paper-thinness and slightly damp in his hands but which right now is worth more than ten Grand Slam trophies because Roger’s trying all ways to get him to let go. The Swiss abandons an attempt at tickling and goes for Andy’s cock instead; his hot, wet mouth sliding over it is enough to make the American jolt up off the bed and slender fingers dart in to whip the shirt from under him as Roger sits back with a triumphant smile, t-shirt balled in one hand.
“Not fair,” Andy gasps out as he sits up. Roger’s smirking and the part of Andy that’s still tingling from the Swiss’ mouth insists he keep the play-fight going if there’s the promise of it leading to more sex. It’s with great reluctance that he overrides the urge and forces himself to stay still.
“Rog, I’m serious. It’s the middle of the night, the blinds are closed and we’re on the second floor. There’s no one here to see you but me. What’s wrong with walking around naked?”
“It makes me uncomfortable.” Roger’s smile fades and he looks down at his hands, playing with a frayed edge to the shirt. “It always has. I know I’m not—I don’t look like you.”
“But you’re gorgeous,” Andy protests, shifting so he’s kneeling in front of the Swiss with his hands resting on Roger’s hips. Roger won’t look at him, eyes still on the shirt that slender fingers are nervously unravelling. “Love, just because you’re not some dumb, blonde American doesn’t mean you aren’t hot.” A tiny shake of Roger’s head has him narrowing his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”
“You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to say that.” The Swiss shrugs and Andy grits his teeth against the urge to strangle whatever or whoever put such stupid ideas in Roger's head. Sitting with his head bowed, curls of hair clinging to damp skin, beaded sweat catching sparks of gold from the lamplight – Roger’s beautiful. More beautiful than Andy’s ever felt or knows he’ll ever feel, beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with models in glossy magazines, designed, posed, faked. Roger’s beautiful simply as he is. Andy doesn’t get why he can’t see that.
He leans forward, curling a hand through the Swiss’ hair and pulling him into a kiss that’s as hard as he can bring himself to make it, taking Roger’s mouth, claiming every inch of it until Roger’s shaking and tiny sounds of want are vibrating through his whole body. Only when the Swiss’ hands start to touch his hips does Andy pull back, lips red and wet as he smirks.
“Do you want me?” Soft challenge, suggestion in every word. Roger’s gasping for air and he shudders at the seductive tone to Andy’s voice.
“Andy, please...”
“Do you?” Andy gently tugs at his fistful of hair, barely enough to pull but enough to tilt the Swiss’ head up. Dark eyes that are wide with confusion meet his and it’s almost enough to break his resolve. Almost.
“Andy I—“ Roger swallows and licks his lips, still swollen from the kiss. “Yes.”
“Then you’ll have to come and get me.” Sliding backwards until he finds the edge of the bed, Andy catches the incredulity that crosses Roger’s face. “I’m going to get a glass of water. You know where the kitchen is if you want to find me.”
“Andy—“
“I’ll be downstairs.” Crossing the room, Andy lets his hips sway a little and doesn’t need to look back to know Roger’s shivering with want. “Oh and one more thing.” A glance back, barely holding back a moan at the sight of a flushed, naked Roger, kneeling on the bed and staring at him in disbelief. “Don’t you dare bring the t-shirt.”
Tuesday: 1:16am
‘Bad, bad plan Andy’ the American tells himself as he leans against the kitchen countertop, wondering if he can outwait Roger’s stubbornness. It’s been over an hour and there’s no sign of Roger, no sound from upstairs. Andy’s starting to think his bluff’s been called.
Until there’s a soft shuffle of feet at the door and Andy starts upright, rubbing his hands over his cold arms. There’s a row of tiny lights set above the door and he’d turned them on when he first came down after a brief fight with himself over whether or not Roger would be more comfortable in darkness, changing the shadows from greyish black to a softer brown. Their light glows around Roger as he steps slowly into the room, wearing only the black leather necklace Andy had given him for their one week anniversary.
“Hey,” Andy says softly, forcing himself to stay still. If he makes a move, walks towards the Swiss, he might snap the fragile confidence he can see stretched to breaking point as Roger hesitates by the door. “Thought you might not come.”
“Hey.” Clear tension in the stiff set of the Swiss’ shoulders, in the way he twists his hands together uncomfortably and the way he’s biting his lip hard enough to break the skin. “I… I uh…”
“Roger.” Staying still be damned and Andy’s across the room, cupping his hand under the Swiss’ chin to tilt it up. He rubs his thumb across Roger’s bruised bottom lip, working it free from between sharp teeth. “Love, I’m the only one here. There’s no one to see ok?”
“I know.” Roger swallows and glances around. Andy feels more than hears the deep breath he takes as the Swiss relaxes against him. “I’m just not used to it you know?”
“What, you never been naked in your kitchen before?” Andy jokes, gets a blank look in reply. “Huh. I guess not.”
“Have you?” Roger demands. Andy grins, wrapping his arms around the other man to pull him closer and Roger lets him, resting his head on the American’s shoulder.
“Been naked in my kitchen?” Andy’s voice is low, amused. “Sure. My house is pretty hidden, has thick drapes. If I’m not going anywhere, if looking for clean clothes seems like too much trouble…”
“You aren’t serious?” Roger pulls back to look at him, disbelief and confusion in his eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Andy answers honestly after taking a second to think. He shifts his grip on the Swiss, leading him across to the table and pulling Roger between his knees when he sits on the edge. It gives him time to think of an answer that won’t be a lie or a joke, some genuine response for something he’s not really sure how to explain. He plays with the silver tennis racquet on Roger’s necklace while he thinks, absently twirling it between his thumb and forefinger and admiring the play of light on metal.
“It’s really…” He pauses. “It’s comfortable for one thing, especially when it’s hot in the middle of summer.”
“You have air conditioning.”
“Yeah and you know I hate my house feeling like a fridge.” Andy shrugs. “There’s something… sexy is the wrong word but it’s almost as if you feel more without clothes. It’s…”
“Sensual?” Roger suggests and Andy blinks, startled. He doesn’t know why it surprises him every time Roger finds the perfect word in language he’s only just the right side of being comfortable in, but it does. It reminds him he shouldn’t underestimate the Swiss as much as he does and when an idea flashes through his mind, makes him approach it more carefully, despite an urge to jump up and down with excitement. If he can talk Roger into it, he can see this being a very fun week but he’ll have to tread very carefully.
“So, you’ve never walked naked around your own house? Even after say, a shower?” Andy can’t help a smile as he leans down, pressing light, wet kisses along the curve of Roger’s neck, whispering his next words as he licks along the edge of the Swiss’ ear. “After sex?”
“No.” A soft gasp as Andy bites down and a moan when he rubs his tongue across the mark. “Not even then.”
“Doesn’t seem fair.” Andy slides his hands down to Roger’s ass, pulling the Swiss close. There’s nothing separating them, no jeans, no shirts and Roger’s already more than half hard, cock rubbing along Andy’s inner thigh. If there’s a smirk on the American’s face, he hides it in the trail of wet kisses he leaves along Roger’s neck. “You missing out on the experience I mean.”
“I can live without it.” Roger pushes his hips forward, rubbing their cocks together and his moan echoes Andy’s. “Andy… I came downstairs. I left the shirt. Please…”
“You did come downstairs naked for me,” Andy concedes with a forced air of reluctance. “I suppose that deserves a reward.”
“Ja. Bitte, please…” Roger lets out a cry as Andy curls a hand around his cock and rubs, hard. “Andy!”
“Sorry.” Andy slides off the table, keeping one hand loosely around Roger’s cock as he pushes the Swiss back, over to the counter. They hit it too hard and a whimper escapes Roger’s clenched teeth but Andy’s kissing him, fumbling behind them for the bottle of olive oil he knows is there and almost cracking the glass when his hand sends it skidding onto its side. It’s slick on his fingers as he fumbles open the lid one handed and upends it, spreading a pool of gold that glitters in the soft light, leaves glistening trails on Roger’s skin when Andy slips an oil-covered hand over his ass and thighs.
“Roger.” A whisper, barely audible over Roger’s moan when Andy pushes a finger into him. “Rog, what would you say to a… a dare, I guess? Something to do this week.”
“You don’t think we can find enough things to do?” Roger’s gasping, hair over his eyes and sweat trickling down his chest as Andy spreads his legs a little wider apart. “I can.”
“It won’t stop us doing that. Probably make it easier in fact.” Andy pushes a second finger in easily, Roger still stretched from earlier and only moaning a little louder at the new addition. “And I might just be able to make you believe how gorgeous you are.”
Hair hanging across his face in damp curls, skin flushed and breath coming in sharp gasps, Roger still manages to look suspicious. “Andy, what…”
“I dare you to stay naked for a week.” Andy smirks at the sharp intake of breath and takes the opportunity to replace his fingers with his cock, sliding all the way in. Roger’s shocked expression dissolves into bliss and his head tilts back with a choked cry. “Roger? I’ll move if you say yes.”
“You-“ Roger swears in German, entire body suddenly tense and Andy bites his tongue hard when the Swiss’s muscles clench on his cock. “You planned this.”
“Not as such.” Andy’s panting now, everything in him begging him to move in Roger. “Rog? Yes?”
“We can’t… we need to practice, to go out…”
“No tournaments for three weeks. You’ve got the gym in the basement, we can stay in shape.” Andy kisses him, soft and persuasive, sliding his tongue over Roger’s. “We’ve got more food than we’ll need. No one’s coming to visit. We can do this Roger.”
“We?” Roger’s stubbornness is beginning to melt and a smile is trying hard to find its way onto his lips beneath Andy’s. “You too?”
“No fun you doing it without me,” Andy breathes. “That a yes then?” He rocks his hips a little, just to give some incentive and Roger bucks against him with a moan.
“Yes. Okay. Move, please…”
With a grin of triumph Andy obliges, Roger bracing himself against the counter as the American fucks him with slow, deep strokes. For a long few minutes there’s no sound but their breathing and moans until Andy gets impatient, starts to speed up his thrusts until Roger’s begging him in a mix of English and German not to stop. Andy kisses him hard and fists a hand around the Swiss’ cock, moving it with his thrusts until Roger arcs up into him, coming hot and wet over Andy’s hand. Closing his eyes, Andy lets go and fills him in a rush, leaning on the Swiss for support as the orgasm makes him stagger.
“Huh,” he gasps when he finds his voice, countless minutes later. “We should fuck in the kitchen some more this week. I like it.”
“Andy—“
“Yes Roger, promises made during sex do count.” Andy straightens up, sliding his oil-streaked arms around the Swiss’ waist as he catches his breath. “Naked for a week. You said you’d do it.”
“It wasn’t fair and you know it.” There’s a whine to Roger’s tone but Andy long ago perfected the art of whining and Roger’s got a long way to go to catch up. He doesn’t even blink.
“Fair is that I said ‘No clothes this week’ and you said ‘yes’. Everything else? Doesn’t matter.” He grins, kissing the pout from Roger’s lips, bodies glued together with sweat and come as they lean back against the counter. Andy swallows Roger’s moan at the contact and pulls back a little, smiles. Roger's flushed, dishevelled, so very beautiful and Andy's really looking forward to this dare. “Naked for a week. Starting now.”
Concluding part up... sometime soon. This week I hope.
