Second part of Underneath.
Jun. 3rd, 2005 04:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cloficTitle: Underneath (2/3)
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 (2/3)
Tuesday 10:04am
Andy wakes with an aching neck and someone wrapped around him. Literally wrapped, a leg hooked over his thigh, one arm around his waist and another around his shoulders – why his neck hurts so much no doubt – with a face pressed tightly into the curve of his shoulder. He’d know it was Roger even if he didn’t remember falling asleep with the Swiss; no one he’s ever slept with clung to him so hard during the night. He’s tested it before, carefully rolling to the opposite side of the bed once Roger’s asleep and every morning, enough to give him deja-vu, he wakes up as Roger’s teddy bear. He doesn’t mind so much, even in summer when he’s too hot to be pressed to another warm body. It’s sort of cute and he’s found it a great way to make up after arguments – it’s hard to be mad at each other when they’re so tangled it takes them a few minutes to work out which limb belongs to who.
Today it’s also useful, because the side of him not covered by Roger is freezing and he fumbles blindly for the blankets before remembering they never made it back upstairs and fell asleep on the couch. He’s feeling for the woollen blanket he knows Roger keeps on the back of it when something hot and hard brushes against his thigh and he grins, reaching down to cup Roger’s erection instead.
“Best way to warm up,” he murmurs to himself, starting to rub his hand gently over it, just enough to tease. Opening his eyes, he watches Roger tilt his head back with a sigh, clearly still asleep and his grin widens. Sliding round so the Swiss is on his back takes just a second; untangling himself from Roger’s sleeping grip is a little trickier. Once Roger latches on, he clings like his life depends on it and Andy pauses to take stock for a moment. One slender brown arm is around his waist and the fingers are curled around his side, impossible to detach. The leg over his thigh slid down a little when he moved but it’s still over the back of his knee and there’s no way he can move down to take the Swiss’ cock in his mouth, tangled as he is. He’s still wondering what to do when Roger’s eyes flicker sleepily open.
“Was… What’re you doing?”
“Trying to give you a nice wake up call.” Andy leans down to kiss him, enjoying the slow sleepiness to Roger’s response, the way the Swiss’ lips part with a sigh as Andy pulls back a little. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Roger lets go of Andy to stretch, body arcing up beneath the American as he flexes stiff muscles. Andy can feel the tension of the stretch shivering through the Swiss for a moment, half smiles at the blissful expression flashing over Roger’s face as he sinks back to the leather and almost forgets his original plan until Roger’s cock presses hard and hot against his thigh when the Swiss moves. With a grin, he slides quickly down Roger’s body, pausing to lick at the trail of hair before swallowing his cock until his nose is buried in the soft curls at the base. He can’t help a hum of pleasure at Roger’s yell of shock, the vibrations dragging another cry from the Swiss, slightly softer as he rocks his hips under Andy’s hands and mouth.
Making Roger gasp and yell is what Andy loves most about sucking his lover off; usually the Swiss is quiet, calm to the point where Andy sometimes wonders how much anger and frustration gets locked up tight inside where no one can see. He doesn’t think it’s healthy to be that controlled all the time. Making Roger let go a little during sex is one of the few ways he’s found to break through the walls Roger hides behind. Humming harder, he smiles to himself as Roger cries out his name amidst the moans.
It takes hardly any time at all for him to have Roger flooding his mouth, the Swiss making tiny whimpering sounds that are halfway to words in some language or a few, he tends to mix them all together when he comes. Andy keeps moving his mouth and tongue until Roger’s soft, the leather of the sofa creaking as he slides off and lies back down beside the Swiss with a deep sigh.
“Thank you,” Roger murmurs, eyes drifting closed as his hand finds Andy’s and twines their fingers together. Andy smiles, pressing a kiss to the Swiss’ shoulder.
“You’re welcome.”
They lie comfortably in silence for a while, Roger curling against Andy’s side while the American strokes his hair, tangling his fingers in the dark curls he never gets tired of playing with. At Roger’s first shiver, he lets go of the Swiss’ hand to snag the blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it around them, rubbing Roger’s cold hands to warm them.
“You want to go back to bed? It’ll be warmer,” he murmurs, tugging the blanket over their heads to make a fuzzy cave, tinted with blue from the light shining through coloured wool. Roger smiles at him, still half asleep.
“I’ll light the fire in a minute. Since I assume this no clothes rule applies to anything to keep us warm too…?”
“That’s right. Nothing even remotely clothes shaped.” Andy grins. “Can we snuggle in front of the fire all day?”
“If you want.” Roger closes his eyes and Andy takes a second to admire him, painted blue by the light through the blanket, the tip of a tongue flicking out to wet his lips in what Andy takes to be an invitation. He leans over but Roger’s hands come up to stop him before their mouths meet, dark eyes suddenly open and alert.
“Andy, what am I getting out of this?”
“Um.” For a moment Andy doesn’t get what the Swiss means. “Out of the kiss, out of us—“
“No, not that.” There’s a faint edge of exasperation to Roger’s voice and Andy hadn’t realised he’d gone tense until, suddenly, he can relax again. “Out of this week. The dare.”
Andy’s mouth opens and shuts a few times. He’d never thought about it so materialistically; he’d mainly been focused on getting Roger to relax a little. Not to mention the chance to watch the Swiss walk around naked all week which, come to think of it, works both ways. “You mean besides getting to watch me be naked and the gratuitous sex all week? Gee, let me think… nothing I guess, but you know, most people would just be happy with the sex.”
“I was going to get the sex anyway,” Roger points out and he’s using his lazy voice, the one Andy hates because it’s so assured, slightly smug. Not to mention completely irresistible. “You said you do this all the time so it isn’t anything different for you, but it is for me. I should get a reward.”
“More sex?” Andy offers after a moment of thought and sighs as Roger narrows his eyes in a disbelieving glare. “Okay, not sex. Name your price Federer.”
Roger thinks hard for a moment; Andy has to restrain himself from leaning over to kiss the creased frown from the Swiss’ forehead. It relaxes as Roger finds the words he’s looking for, a small smile replacing the contemplative look.
“Carte blanche.”
Andy blinks. “In English for the dumb American please?”
“It is an English term.” Roger gets a satisfied look on his face, like the cat who got the cream, ate the canary and then got away with both, rolled into one, very smug expression. “It means I get complete freedom in what I want to have. One unspecified favour to be redeemed at the time of my choosing, no matter what it is or when I want it.”
“Oh come on,” Andy protests, feeling himself start to pout. Suddenly the whole dare idea doesn’t seem quite so much fun, not with something that basically sounds like an unspecified punishment at the end of it hanging over him all week. If he’s going to have to do something in return for a week of naked Roger, he at least wants to know what it’ll be. “That’s not fair. What if you wanted me to let you sleep with someone else or make me jump off a cliff or… or made me seduce someone just because you could?”
“Andy, would I ever make you do any of those things?” There’s a world of patience in Roger’s tone that does nothing to soothe the American’s anxiety. It’s okay for Roger to sound calm; he’s the one who’d be getting a free favour to redeem.
“Well… ok, no but I’m just saying there has to at least be limits Rog. It’s not that I don’t trust you—“
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“It’s not, I—“ Andy bit the words off, seeing Roger’s face going blank, hearing the flat tone to his voice as the Swiss tries to hide his hurt feelings. “Rog, don’t pull the poker-face on me.” He sits up, pushing the blanket aside and Roger shifts back, leaning against the cushions with a sulky expression that is at least better than the blankness. “Babe, I know you won’t make me do anything I really don’t want to do.” And he does, now he thinks about it. Roger’s not the type to ask him to do something weird or twisted; he’s not even into some of the kinkier stuff Andy’s done with other guys on tour and suddenly Andy feels guilty for questioning the Swiss’ motives. “I’m sorry. I trust you to have your card blank thing.”
“Carte blanche,” Roger corrects quietly but he relaxes, avoiding Andy’s eyes with a trace of something like shame. It soothes Andy’s own guilt, Roger knowing he’d overreacted as much as Andy had. Though it’s not quite enough to completely banish his last twinge of nerves.
“Yeah, that. Whatever you want, whenever.” Andy sighs. “I’ve never let anyone else have that much free rein so… just be nice to me okay?”
“I promise.” The smile that lights up Roger’s face is worth agreeing to a hundred favours for and he leans forward fast enough for it to almost be called throwing himself at Andy, kissing him hard. Andy’s worry fades as he kisses him back because he can’t think of anything Roger would ask that he wouldn’t do.
“Want to light that fire now?” he murmurs against soft lips as Roger shivers, rubbing his hands over the Swiss’ cold shoulders. “I think it’s about time we took a closer look at that snuggling idea.”
~~
Tuesday 9:14pm
“So, have you filled out your blank card yet?”
Roger smiles at him. They’re sitting on the fluffy rug in front of the fireplace, Roger leaning sideways against him as they share a bottle of some German beer that’s all Roger will allow in his fridge. Andy thinks he’s getting quite fond of it, not that he has much choice in the matter. Roger flat out refuses to let any of his favourite American beers in the house and since Andy won the fight for pizza tonight – as the empty take out boxes scattered across the coffee table prove - he’s willing to drink anything.
“It doesn’t really mean blank card you know.”
“You know what I meant.” Andy takes a sip of beer, sharing the taste with Roger as he kisses him. The Swiss’ mouth is soft and wet against his, as familiar as breathing after a day of sex and making out on the rug. Both of them are sticky with sweat and come and Andy doesn’t know if he could detach himself from Roger even if he wanted to; they’ve never cuddled naked in the firelight before and he thinks he likes it, likes the feel of Roger’s bare skin against his and the ticklishness of tangled curls as Roger rests his head against Andy’s shoulder. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have another six days of this.
“Yes I did know. And no I haven’t decided yet.” Roger settles his head more comfortably, eyelashes brushing Andy’s shoulder when he closes his eyes. “Are you going to be asking me that all week?”
“Absolutely. Will I get an answer?”
“No.” Roger pauses. “Does that mean you’ll stop asking?”
“No, because I live in hope.” Andy catches Roger’s quiet chuckle and grins. Everything is shadowed in the firelight, the gold of Roger’s skin turned bronze and the blond highlights in his hair from the sun turned gold. He can feel the Swiss’ breath, warm against his neck and the soft rise and fall of his chest when he rubs a hand through the curls of hair, pausing to tweak a nipple. Roger twitches with a moan of protest.
“Sorry.” Andy lets his hands drop, remembering that he’d been a little rough in that area only an hour or so ago. “Still hurts?”
“Not so much.” The small shift of Roger’s shoulders -- barely noticeable if you hadn’t spent as much time with him as Andy had -- says otherwise and Andy makes a mental note to avoid it for the next day or so. He takes another sip of beer before handing the bottle to Roger who rests it on his knee, running his thumb around the neck.
“Andy?” he asks after a moment. There’s a carefully neutral tone to his voice that has Andy narrowing his eyes instantly. Roger only talks in that tone when he’s about to ask Andy something he knows the American won’t like and he’s trying to soften it a little. Andy manages to keep his own voice almost as blank when he replies.
“Yeah?”
“This morning.” Roger’s still, the only sign of his nerves the quick, tense way he’s sliding his thumb round and round the lip of the bottle. Andy watches it, half hypnotised. “You said you’d never given anyone so much free rein.”
“Yes.” Andy thinks he knows where this is going and Roger’s next words confirm it.
“So who else have you been with? On tour, I know about Mandy and Lauren.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, Lauren was just a friend,” Andy insists, ignoring Roger’s deep sigh in response. “She was!”
“You looked more than friendly when I walked in on you in the showers that time.” Roger laughs softly at Andy’s answering growl. “But on tour Andy. Though only if you want to tell me of course, if you don’t-“
“No, it’s okay.” Andy pauses to think for a minute. “Well there was Tommy before you, you knew that.”
“Ja. Giving you ‘German lessons’.”
“Hey, Dean believed it.” Andy defends the excuse that he’s still quite fond of. “It made sense.”
Disbelief is clear in the way Roger’s snickering quietly to himself. “And how much German to do you speak now?”
“Well, I can swear quite nicely during sex.” Andy grins, kissing Roger’s forehead as the Swiss laughs. “Then before Tommy I… I’ve never admitted this to anyone but I had a thing for Maria.”
“Maria Sharapova?” If Andy didn’t know better, he’d have sworn Roger sounded pleased. “How did you get past her father?”
“I didn’t. First time we kissed at the Australian Open, he caught us. Yelled at me until he was blue in the face. Scared me shitless and we decided perhaps we’d call it off until she was a little older.” Andy pokes a laughing Roger in his side. “S’not funny.”
“It really is. I just won a bet with Marat.” Roger sounds as satisfied as it’s possible to be, taking a few deep breaths to control his chuckles. “So who before that?”
“What bet?” Andy demands suspiciously, ignoring the question. “You had a bet about me and Maria?!”
“Ja. I bet her father would stop it before you more than kissed. I was right.” Roger hands the beer back to Andy before the American can think of an outraged protest, resettling himself with Andy’s shoulder as his pillow. “So? Before that?”
“Before that…” With a sigh, Andy stores the bet away to bring up later and thinks hard, trying to get his timeline straight. “I slept with one or the other of the Bryans a few times. Big mistake, I kept yelling the wrong name. I’m amazed we’re still friends actually. Then it was the summer and I had the… fling with Lauren-“
“So you admit there was a fling.”
“No, it wasn’t like- Okay! Maybe a tiny, insignificant bit of flinging went on.” Andy growls as Roger’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “It was over before it ever really started. Before Lauren there was the ‘after Mandy’ time, when I didn’t really know who or what I wanted or if I wanted anyone at all. I was just pathetic for a while there, so be glad you didn’t know me better then.”
“I’m very glad indeed,” Roger murmurs and gets an elbow in the ribs. He pokes back and there’s a brief war of poking that quickly turns to tickling, ending with them lying side by side on the rug, giggling, out of breath and with the beer bottle balanced between them, miraculously not split. Roger rolls onto his side, sliding a hand over Andy’s stomach.
“Was there anyone before Mandy?”
“Yeah.” Andy falls silent for a minute, lost in thought and appreciating Roger’s quiet patience as he fumbles for the words. “Mar… I dated Mardy from my seventeenth birthday almost right up until I met Mandy. We were practically joined at the hip.” A brief pause as a smile drifts across his face, staring unseeingly into mid-air. “I always remember this one time in high school, when these guys…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me,” Roger asks softly. Andy just shakes his head.
“Can we just leave it? Please?”
“Of course.” Roger pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down at Andy with worried dark eyes, shadows and patterns from the fire playing across his skin. “Andy, you know if you ever wanted to talk about something—“
“Yeah Rog, I know.” Andy leans up to kiss him, running his hand down over the Swiss’ thigh and over his ass, Roger moaning into his mouth when Andy squeezes. “So,” he whispers. “Think you’re recovered yet?”
“I think I’m up to testing it,” Roger breathes, worry vanishing as he moved to sit across Andy’s thighs, cock rubbing, already half hard, against Andy’s. “Ready?”
“Always.” Andy closes his eyes as Roger kneels up, reaching down to guide his cock into the Swiss. As Roger sinks down with a moan, still slick from earlier and wrapped tightly hot around Andy’s cock, Andy thinks with a flicker of regret that if he didn’t always sidestep difficult conversations with sex, his relationships would probably work out better than they have been so far.
Then Roger starts to rock his hips and before everything dissolves into waves of pleasure, Andy decides maybe sex isn't such a bad way of solving problems after all.
~~
Yes this was originally a two parter. Now it is three and although it should remain three, nothing is certain in the world of fic. Such is life. Concluding part should hopefully be posted at the weekend or early next week.
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.
Tuesday 10:04am
Andy wakes with an aching neck and someone wrapped around him. Literally wrapped, a leg hooked over his thigh, one arm around his waist and another around his shoulders – why his neck hurts so much no doubt – with a face pressed tightly into the curve of his shoulder. He’d know it was Roger even if he didn’t remember falling asleep with the Swiss; no one he’s ever slept with clung to him so hard during the night. He’s tested it before, carefully rolling to the opposite side of the bed once Roger’s asleep and every morning, enough to give him deja-vu, he wakes up as Roger’s teddy bear. He doesn’t mind so much, even in summer when he’s too hot to be pressed to another warm body. It’s sort of cute and he’s found it a great way to make up after arguments – it’s hard to be mad at each other when they’re so tangled it takes them a few minutes to work out which limb belongs to who.
Today it’s also useful, because the side of him not covered by Roger is freezing and he fumbles blindly for the blankets before remembering they never made it back upstairs and fell asleep on the couch. He’s feeling for the woollen blanket he knows Roger keeps on the back of it when something hot and hard brushes against his thigh and he grins, reaching down to cup Roger’s erection instead.
“Best way to warm up,” he murmurs to himself, starting to rub his hand gently over it, just enough to tease. Opening his eyes, he watches Roger tilt his head back with a sigh, clearly still asleep and his grin widens. Sliding round so the Swiss is on his back takes just a second; untangling himself from Roger’s sleeping grip is a little trickier. Once Roger latches on, he clings like his life depends on it and Andy pauses to take stock for a moment. One slender brown arm is around his waist and the fingers are curled around his side, impossible to detach. The leg over his thigh slid down a little when he moved but it’s still over the back of his knee and there’s no way he can move down to take the Swiss’ cock in his mouth, tangled as he is. He’s still wondering what to do when Roger’s eyes flicker sleepily open.
“Was… What’re you doing?”
“Trying to give you a nice wake up call.” Andy leans down to kiss him, enjoying the slow sleepiness to Roger’s response, the way the Swiss’ lips part with a sigh as Andy pulls back a little. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Roger lets go of Andy to stretch, body arcing up beneath the American as he flexes stiff muscles. Andy can feel the tension of the stretch shivering through the Swiss for a moment, half smiles at the blissful expression flashing over Roger’s face as he sinks back to the leather and almost forgets his original plan until Roger’s cock presses hard and hot against his thigh when the Swiss moves. With a grin, he slides quickly down Roger’s body, pausing to lick at the trail of hair before swallowing his cock until his nose is buried in the soft curls at the base. He can’t help a hum of pleasure at Roger’s yell of shock, the vibrations dragging another cry from the Swiss, slightly softer as he rocks his hips under Andy’s hands and mouth.
Making Roger gasp and yell is what Andy loves most about sucking his lover off; usually the Swiss is quiet, calm to the point where Andy sometimes wonders how much anger and frustration gets locked up tight inside where no one can see. He doesn’t think it’s healthy to be that controlled all the time. Making Roger let go a little during sex is one of the few ways he’s found to break through the walls Roger hides behind. Humming harder, he smiles to himself as Roger cries out his name amidst the moans.
It takes hardly any time at all for him to have Roger flooding his mouth, the Swiss making tiny whimpering sounds that are halfway to words in some language or a few, he tends to mix them all together when he comes. Andy keeps moving his mouth and tongue until Roger’s soft, the leather of the sofa creaking as he slides off and lies back down beside the Swiss with a deep sigh.
“Thank you,” Roger murmurs, eyes drifting closed as his hand finds Andy’s and twines their fingers together. Andy smiles, pressing a kiss to the Swiss’ shoulder.
“You’re welcome.”
They lie comfortably in silence for a while, Roger curling against Andy’s side while the American strokes his hair, tangling his fingers in the dark curls he never gets tired of playing with. At Roger’s first shiver, he lets go of the Swiss’ hand to snag the blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it around them, rubbing Roger’s cold hands to warm them.
“You want to go back to bed? It’ll be warmer,” he murmurs, tugging the blanket over their heads to make a fuzzy cave, tinted with blue from the light shining through coloured wool. Roger smiles at him, still half asleep.
“I’ll light the fire in a minute. Since I assume this no clothes rule applies to anything to keep us warm too…?”
“That’s right. Nothing even remotely clothes shaped.” Andy grins. “Can we snuggle in front of the fire all day?”
“If you want.” Roger closes his eyes and Andy takes a second to admire him, painted blue by the light through the blanket, the tip of a tongue flicking out to wet his lips in what Andy takes to be an invitation. He leans over but Roger’s hands come up to stop him before their mouths meet, dark eyes suddenly open and alert.
“Andy, what am I getting out of this?”
“Um.” For a moment Andy doesn’t get what the Swiss means. “Out of the kiss, out of us—“
“No, not that.” There’s a faint edge of exasperation to Roger’s voice and Andy hadn’t realised he’d gone tense until, suddenly, he can relax again. “Out of this week. The dare.”
Andy’s mouth opens and shuts a few times. He’d never thought about it so materialistically; he’d mainly been focused on getting Roger to relax a little. Not to mention the chance to watch the Swiss walk around naked all week which, come to think of it, works both ways. “You mean besides getting to watch me be naked and the gratuitous sex all week? Gee, let me think… nothing I guess, but you know, most people would just be happy with the sex.”
“I was going to get the sex anyway,” Roger points out and he’s using his lazy voice, the one Andy hates because it’s so assured, slightly smug. Not to mention completely irresistible. “You said you do this all the time so it isn’t anything different for you, but it is for me. I should get a reward.”
“More sex?” Andy offers after a moment of thought and sighs as Roger narrows his eyes in a disbelieving glare. “Okay, not sex. Name your price Federer.”
Roger thinks hard for a moment; Andy has to restrain himself from leaning over to kiss the creased frown from the Swiss’ forehead. It relaxes as Roger finds the words he’s looking for, a small smile replacing the contemplative look.
“Carte blanche.”
Andy blinks. “In English for the dumb American please?”
“It is an English term.” Roger gets a satisfied look on his face, like the cat who got the cream, ate the canary and then got away with both, rolled into one, very smug expression. “It means I get complete freedom in what I want to have. One unspecified favour to be redeemed at the time of my choosing, no matter what it is or when I want it.”
“Oh come on,” Andy protests, feeling himself start to pout. Suddenly the whole dare idea doesn’t seem quite so much fun, not with something that basically sounds like an unspecified punishment at the end of it hanging over him all week. If he’s going to have to do something in return for a week of naked Roger, he at least wants to know what it’ll be. “That’s not fair. What if you wanted me to let you sleep with someone else or make me jump off a cliff or… or made me seduce someone just because you could?”
“Andy, would I ever make you do any of those things?” There’s a world of patience in Roger’s tone that does nothing to soothe the American’s anxiety. It’s okay for Roger to sound calm; he’s the one who’d be getting a free favour to redeem.
“Well… ok, no but I’m just saying there has to at least be limits Rog. It’s not that I don’t trust you—“
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“It’s not, I—“ Andy bit the words off, seeing Roger’s face going blank, hearing the flat tone to his voice as the Swiss tries to hide his hurt feelings. “Rog, don’t pull the poker-face on me.” He sits up, pushing the blanket aside and Roger shifts back, leaning against the cushions with a sulky expression that is at least better than the blankness. “Babe, I know you won’t make me do anything I really don’t want to do.” And he does, now he thinks about it. Roger’s not the type to ask him to do something weird or twisted; he’s not even into some of the kinkier stuff Andy’s done with other guys on tour and suddenly Andy feels guilty for questioning the Swiss’ motives. “I’m sorry. I trust you to have your card blank thing.”
“Carte blanche,” Roger corrects quietly but he relaxes, avoiding Andy’s eyes with a trace of something like shame. It soothes Andy’s own guilt, Roger knowing he’d overreacted as much as Andy had. Though it’s not quite enough to completely banish his last twinge of nerves.
“Yeah, that. Whatever you want, whenever.” Andy sighs. “I’ve never let anyone else have that much free rein so… just be nice to me okay?”
“I promise.” The smile that lights up Roger’s face is worth agreeing to a hundred favours for and he leans forward fast enough for it to almost be called throwing himself at Andy, kissing him hard. Andy’s worry fades as he kisses him back because he can’t think of anything Roger would ask that he wouldn’t do.
“Want to light that fire now?” he murmurs against soft lips as Roger shivers, rubbing his hands over the Swiss’ cold shoulders. “I think it’s about time we took a closer look at that snuggling idea.”
Tuesday 9:14pm
“So, have you filled out your blank card yet?”
Roger smiles at him. They’re sitting on the fluffy rug in front of the fireplace, Roger leaning sideways against him as they share a bottle of some German beer that’s all Roger will allow in his fridge. Andy thinks he’s getting quite fond of it, not that he has much choice in the matter. Roger flat out refuses to let any of his favourite American beers in the house and since Andy won the fight for pizza tonight – as the empty take out boxes scattered across the coffee table prove - he’s willing to drink anything.
“It doesn’t really mean blank card you know.”
“You know what I meant.” Andy takes a sip of beer, sharing the taste with Roger as he kisses him. The Swiss’ mouth is soft and wet against his, as familiar as breathing after a day of sex and making out on the rug. Both of them are sticky with sweat and come and Andy doesn’t know if he could detach himself from Roger even if he wanted to; they’ve never cuddled naked in the firelight before and he thinks he likes it, likes the feel of Roger’s bare skin against his and the ticklishness of tangled curls as Roger rests his head against Andy’s shoulder. He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have another six days of this.
“Yes I did know. And no I haven’t decided yet.” Roger settles his head more comfortably, eyelashes brushing Andy’s shoulder when he closes his eyes. “Are you going to be asking me that all week?”
“Absolutely. Will I get an answer?”
“No.” Roger pauses. “Does that mean you’ll stop asking?”
“No, because I live in hope.” Andy catches Roger’s quiet chuckle and grins. Everything is shadowed in the firelight, the gold of Roger’s skin turned bronze and the blond highlights in his hair from the sun turned gold. He can feel the Swiss’ breath, warm against his neck and the soft rise and fall of his chest when he rubs a hand through the curls of hair, pausing to tweak a nipple. Roger twitches with a moan of protest.
“Sorry.” Andy lets his hands drop, remembering that he’d been a little rough in that area only an hour or so ago. “Still hurts?”
“Not so much.” The small shift of Roger’s shoulders -- barely noticeable if you hadn’t spent as much time with him as Andy had -- says otherwise and Andy makes a mental note to avoid it for the next day or so. He takes another sip of beer before handing the bottle to Roger who rests it on his knee, running his thumb around the neck.
“Andy?” he asks after a moment. There’s a carefully neutral tone to his voice that has Andy narrowing his eyes instantly. Roger only talks in that tone when he’s about to ask Andy something he knows the American won’t like and he’s trying to soften it a little. Andy manages to keep his own voice almost as blank when he replies.
“Yeah?”
“This morning.” Roger’s still, the only sign of his nerves the quick, tense way he’s sliding his thumb round and round the lip of the bottle. Andy watches it, half hypnotised. “You said you’d never given anyone so much free rein.”
“Yes.” Andy thinks he knows where this is going and Roger’s next words confirm it.
“So who else have you been with? On tour, I know about Mandy and Lauren.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times, Lauren was just a friend,” Andy insists, ignoring Roger’s deep sigh in response. “She was!”
“You looked more than friendly when I walked in on you in the showers that time.” Roger laughs softly at Andy’s answering growl. “But on tour Andy. Though only if you want to tell me of course, if you don’t-“
“No, it’s okay.” Andy pauses to think for a minute. “Well there was Tommy before you, you knew that.”
“Ja. Giving you ‘German lessons’.”
“Hey, Dean believed it.” Andy defends the excuse that he’s still quite fond of. “It made sense.”
Disbelief is clear in the way Roger’s snickering quietly to himself. “And how much German to do you speak now?”
“Well, I can swear quite nicely during sex.” Andy grins, kissing Roger’s forehead as the Swiss laughs. “Then before Tommy I… I’ve never admitted this to anyone but I had a thing for Maria.”
“Maria Sharapova?” If Andy didn’t know better, he’d have sworn Roger sounded pleased. “How did you get past her father?”
“I didn’t. First time we kissed at the Australian Open, he caught us. Yelled at me until he was blue in the face. Scared me shitless and we decided perhaps we’d call it off until she was a little older.” Andy pokes a laughing Roger in his side. “S’not funny.”
“It really is. I just won a bet with Marat.” Roger sounds as satisfied as it’s possible to be, taking a few deep breaths to control his chuckles. “So who before that?”
“What bet?” Andy demands suspiciously, ignoring the question. “You had a bet about me and Maria?!”
“Ja. I bet her father would stop it before you more than kissed. I was right.” Roger hands the beer back to Andy before the American can think of an outraged protest, resettling himself with Andy’s shoulder as his pillow. “So? Before that?”
“Before that…” With a sigh, Andy stores the bet away to bring up later and thinks hard, trying to get his timeline straight. “I slept with one or the other of the Bryans a few times. Big mistake, I kept yelling the wrong name. I’m amazed we’re still friends actually. Then it was the summer and I had the… fling with Lauren-“
“So you admit there was a fling.”
“No, it wasn’t like- Okay! Maybe a tiny, insignificant bit of flinging went on.” Andy growls as Roger’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “It was over before it ever really started. Before Lauren there was the ‘after Mandy’ time, when I didn’t really know who or what I wanted or if I wanted anyone at all. I was just pathetic for a while there, so be glad you didn’t know me better then.”
“I’m very glad indeed,” Roger murmurs and gets an elbow in the ribs. He pokes back and there’s a brief war of poking that quickly turns to tickling, ending with them lying side by side on the rug, giggling, out of breath and with the beer bottle balanced between them, miraculously not split. Roger rolls onto his side, sliding a hand over Andy’s stomach.
“Was there anyone before Mandy?”
“Yeah.” Andy falls silent for a minute, lost in thought and appreciating Roger’s quiet patience as he fumbles for the words. “Mar… I dated Mardy from my seventeenth birthday almost right up until I met Mandy. We were practically joined at the hip.” A brief pause as a smile drifts across his face, staring unseeingly into mid-air. “I always remember this one time in high school, when these guys…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me,” Roger asks softly. Andy just shakes his head.
“Can we just leave it? Please?”
“Of course.” Roger pushes himself up on one elbow, looking down at Andy with worried dark eyes, shadows and patterns from the fire playing across his skin. “Andy, you know if you ever wanted to talk about something—“
“Yeah Rog, I know.” Andy leans up to kiss him, running his hand down over the Swiss’ thigh and over his ass, Roger moaning into his mouth when Andy squeezes. “So,” he whispers. “Think you’re recovered yet?”
“I think I’m up to testing it,” Roger breathes, worry vanishing as he moved to sit across Andy’s thighs, cock rubbing, already half hard, against Andy’s. “Ready?”
“Always.” Andy closes his eyes as Roger kneels up, reaching down to guide his cock into the Swiss. As Roger sinks down with a moan, still slick from earlier and wrapped tightly hot around Andy’s cock, Andy thinks with a flicker of regret that if he didn’t always sidestep difficult conversations with sex, his relationships would probably work out better than they have been so far.
Then Roger starts to rock his hips and before everything dissolves into waves of pleasure, Andy decides maybe sex isn't such a bad way of solving problems after all.
Yes this was originally a two parter. Now it is three and although it should remain three, nothing is certain in the world of fic. Such is life. Concluding part should hopefully be posted at the weekend or early next week.
