Fic:Me Encanta
Title: Me Encanta
Pairing: Roger Federer/Feliciano Lopez
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Fiction
plotless sex that stems out of His Spanish Fix. Its all poppinrockz's fault, you pervy bastard <3 :)
The fine Italian silk, gold, is passed from his left to the right, looped once, twice, then with a pull here and there and looped once more. Roger carefully tightens his tie, mindful of creases. He is invited to an exclusive party held by none other than Gisela Oeri to celebrate another successful season for FC Basel, which has become a regular event for him, as long as his team keeps winning. It’s quite a lavish affair, with a couple of hundred high regarded people in attendance, starting in the afternoon and lasting until the early hours of the morning.
Roger takes a look at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of his appearance. Feliciano has come to use for things other than sex. Roger loves the way his hair looks, airy and light. He had stolen some of Feliciano’s products but he knows the Spaniard doesn’t care. Speaking of Feliciano, Roger reminds himself to leave a note for him before he leaves. Feliciano went out with his compatriots the previous night and showed up at Roger’s door at six in the morning, reeking of alcohol and smoke. He had asked Roger to join him, but Roger opted out and relaxed with a glass (or two) of wine, knowing he has to look his best for today. Feliciano had stumbled in, attempted to kiss him before falling down and giving up to sleep in the doorway. It took Roger thirty-seven minutes to get Feliciano into his room last night. He’s more than happy to let the Spaniard sleep off his intoxication in peace.
Pushing a stray hair back into line, Roger gives himself an approving smile. He picks up the gold handkerchief, folds it and places in his breast pocket with care. He just got this suit made, an Armani special, black and tailor made. With one last look, Roger exits his en-suite bathroom and carefully tip toes out of the room. He’s just made it to the door wary when he hears a low rough voice.
“Roger?”
He turns back around and sees Feliciano sitting up in the bed, bare-chested, his hair poking out in several different directions.
“I’m going to that party I told you about. Go back to sleep. Stay if you want, or I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Feliciano just shakes his head. Roger’s not sure if he is disagreeing about something or if he is trying to shake off the drowsiness. He gets up from the bed, taking wobbly steps and reaches out for Roger to steady himself. When he leans in for a kiss, Roger swiftly moves away.
“I’m not kissing you. You probably taste like something crawled into your mouth and died.”
Feliciano just shakes his head again, his left hand sliding up Roger’s arm to the nape of his neck. He draws him in close, whispering, “I never taste bad, Roger.”
Not even trying to resist, Roger allows himself to be pushed against Feliciano’s lips, fingers resting on his chest. Feliciano pulls away with one last nip to Roger’s bottom lip, giving him a sleepy smile.
“Have fun, Guapo.”
He turns to go back to the bed, the need for sleep weighing heavily upon his body but fingers curl around his wrist, holding him in place. Spinning around, the sight of hunger in Roger’s eyes catches him off guard, and Feliciano finds himself being pinned against the wall.
“Fuck Feli,” Roger whispers against Feliciano’s skin as he draws patterns with his tongue on his neck. One thigh pushes apart Feli’s legs, while the other keep his body firm against the wall. The feel of Roger’s arousal wakes up Feliciano’s and he moans, loud.
“Fuck me, Roger. Now.”
Roger moans, wanting nothing else but the professional in him nags him to check his watch. When he does, he pulls away with a shuddering breath, trying to regain control.
“W-we can’t. I’m going to”
Feliciano’s not hearing any of it though. Roger woke him up; he better damn well finish this off. His mouth lands back on top of Roger’s as his fingers travel below to peel away the designer trousers. That’s all the convincing Roger needs and he takes control. His tongue pushes at Feliciano’s mouth mercilessly, seeking the taste he thrives on. When Feliciano manages to pop open the button, Roger pulls away and twirls him around, covering his back completely as he leans in and sucks on Feli’s earlobe.
“I’m going to fuck you, right here, right now.”
Feliciano just moans and pushes his hips back, his thin boxers slipping down a little. Fingers hook in the waistband and tug the material down, giving Roger a view of Feliciano he loves best. Feliciano is clinging to the wall now, desperate to feel something, anything as he shoves his hips harder against Roger’s clothed arousal, loving the feel of the heavy heat. Roger places one hand on the small of his back, the other doing its best to unbutton his trousers. His fingers fumble but don’t stop; after all, they do have a time limit.
Hastily, Roger pulls out his cock and strokes, his length rapidly hardening. For a moment, he pulls away, just enough to observe the body in front of him. Feliciano has his head turned to the side against the plaster, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted and panting. His body is completely bare and shameless as he pokes his backside out, waiting utmost wantonly. Roger can’t wait anymore, so he doesn’t. He spits into his hand, regretting for a second for not stopping to get the lube. But the thought is gone as he coats his cock and haphazardly swipes his fingers across Feli’s entrance before pushing in. He’s mindful of his suit though and he tries his best not to lean against Feliciano’s back. A breath catches in Feliciano’s throat as he is penetrated without warning and loves every second of it. Roger’s fingers travel to his hair, grasping and curling around the long locks. His mouth attaches onto Feliciano’s earlobe, tongue and teeth brutally nipping at the flesh, mimicking the action and pace his cock has taken.
“I want to tie you up, Feli.” His voice is raspy against Feliciano’s ear, roughened by lust.
Feliciano bites his lip to stop a needy moan from escaping. Roger’s cock is so hard inside him, moving perfectly as though their bodies are made for each other. His eyes close, immediately envisioning Roger strapping him to a bed, to a chair, teasing him mercilessly before fucking him into oblivion. His hips thrust back onto Roger’s, one hand coming off the wall and reaching back blindly for the Swiss’ solid presence.
“D-do it, Roger. T-tie me up.”
Roger leans forward, forgetting about his costly ensemble. The only thing he cares about right now is fucking Feliciano as hard and fast as he can.
“Should I use my tie, Feli? Would you like that? Fine Italian silk on your wrists? You’d look so fucking good, gold on gold.” His hips quicken as he pictures the Spaniard restrained and… “I’m promise I’m going to tie you up one day and fuck you so good. Would you beg, Feli? Beg now or else I won’t let you come.”
Feli whimpers. Roger only gets like this, horny with dominance, occasionally but it turns on Feliciano like nothing else. Not the time Nando fucked him in his box at the Bernabeu. Not the time Rafa and Carlos fucked him raw in the locker room at Roland Garros. Nothing comes close.
“Fuck me, Roger. Please. Harder. I need it, need you.”
One hand painfully fists Feliciano’s hair, tugging his head back so Roger can bite his neck at his pleasure. The other hand grips Feliciano’s hips as Roger gives him what he wants. Hard.
Feliciano’s fingers curl around Roger’s clothed bicep, the soft material under his touch. He definitely prefers the feel of Roger’s bare skin, but this doesn’t feel too bad. The material scrapes the backs of his thighs as Roger continues to pump fierily. Every part of him is alive, on fire because of Roger’s touch and it’s driving him crazy.
“Roger… Close. I need”
He doesn’t finish his words, doesn’t need to. Roger slides his fingers to wrap around Feliciano’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. His tongue is lapping, nipping at any and every piece of flesh presented in front of him. His lips latch on to Feliciano’s shoulder blades and suck cruelly, all intents and purposes to leave a mark. Feliciano snaps his hips back, moaning as Roger hits his spot repeatedly. Roger tightens his grip on the head of Feliciano’s cock and it is enough. He comes with a low cry, eyes closing, forehead resting against the wall. His hips don’t stop rocking, eager to please Roger. Roger grips to still them, leaving crescent shaped engravings in Feli’s skin, as he pounds into him four times before his orgasm rips through his body. Roger leans forward, resting his cheek again Feliciano’s sweaty skin, his hair falling and curling from the perspiration.
With a few more kisses to Feliciano’s skin, Roger places one hand on the wall above his head and pulls out, his heartbeat slowly becoming normal; the other rests on the small of Feli’s back, immobilizing him so Roger can watch his come trickle out the hot opening. It’s almost enough to make Roger hard all over again. Eventually the hand falls away and Feliciano turns around, smiling like a sly little kitten. He tilts his head for a soft skin before reaching for Roger’s wrist and leading them to the bed, where he gets in promptly. Feliciano cocks his head to the side, the question hanging in the air.
“I can’t Feli,” Roger says as he takes a look at his watch then his rumpled stained clothes. “If I get out of here in the next ten minutes, then I won’t be too late.”
Feliciano just gives him a sleepy cheeky grin as he settles against the pillows, exhaustion setting in once again. He fights to keep his eyes open as Roger whips off his now soiled Armani suit and throws on another perfectly tailored suit, charcoaled gray this time, throwing the dirty one carelessly on the bed. Feliciano sneaks his fingers across the sheet to enclose around gold silk. When Roger turns around, fully dressed and ready to go once again, he sees Feliciano playing with the tie.
“I keep it for later.” His eyes flicker to the gold tie then to Roger, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. Roger laughs as he bends down and places a kiss to his mouth, his voice a whisper.
“Good. I always hold my promises.”
Pairing: Roger Federer/Feliciano Lopez
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: Fiction
plotless sex that stems out of His Spanish Fix. Its all poppinrockz's fault, you pervy bastard <3 :)
The fine Italian silk, gold, is passed from his left to the right, looped once, twice, then with a pull here and there and looped once more. Roger carefully tightens his tie, mindful of creases. He is invited to an exclusive party held by none other than Gisela Oeri to celebrate another successful season for FC Basel, which has become a regular event for him, as long as his team keeps winning. It’s quite a lavish affair, with a couple of hundred high regarded people in attendance, starting in the afternoon and lasting until the early hours of the morning.
Roger takes a look at himself in the mirror, scrutinizing every inch of his appearance. Feliciano has come to use for things other than sex. Roger loves the way his hair looks, airy and light. He had stolen some of Feliciano’s products but he knows the Spaniard doesn’t care. Speaking of Feliciano, Roger reminds himself to leave a note for him before he leaves. Feliciano went out with his compatriots the previous night and showed up at Roger’s door at six in the morning, reeking of alcohol and smoke. He had asked Roger to join him, but Roger opted out and relaxed with a glass (or two) of wine, knowing he has to look his best for today. Feliciano had stumbled in, attempted to kiss him before falling down and giving up to sleep in the doorway. It took Roger thirty-seven minutes to get Feliciano into his room last night. He’s more than happy to let the Spaniard sleep off his intoxication in peace.
Pushing a stray hair back into line, Roger gives himself an approving smile. He picks up the gold handkerchief, folds it and places in his breast pocket with care. He just got this suit made, an Armani special, black and tailor made. With one last look, Roger exits his en-suite bathroom and carefully tip toes out of the room. He’s just made it to the door wary when he hears a low rough voice.
“Roger?”
He turns back around and sees Feliciano sitting up in the bed, bare-chested, his hair poking out in several different directions.
“I’m going to that party I told you about. Go back to sleep. Stay if you want, or I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Feliciano just shakes his head. Roger’s not sure if he is disagreeing about something or if he is trying to shake off the drowsiness. He gets up from the bed, taking wobbly steps and reaches out for Roger to steady himself. When he leans in for a kiss, Roger swiftly moves away.
“I’m not kissing you. You probably taste like something crawled into your mouth and died.”
Feliciano just shakes his head again, his left hand sliding up Roger’s arm to the nape of his neck. He draws him in close, whispering, “I never taste bad, Roger.”
Not even trying to resist, Roger allows himself to be pushed against Feliciano’s lips, fingers resting on his chest. Feliciano pulls away with one last nip to Roger’s bottom lip, giving him a sleepy smile.
“Have fun, Guapo.”
He turns to go back to the bed, the need for sleep weighing heavily upon his body but fingers curl around his wrist, holding him in place. Spinning around, the sight of hunger in Roger’s eyes catches him off guard, and Feliciano finds himself being pinned against the wall.
“Fuck Feli,” Roger whispers against Feliciano’s skin as he draws patterns with his tongue on his neck. One thigh pushes apart Feli’s legs, while the other keep his body firm against the wall. The feel of Roger’s arousal wakes up Feliciano’s and he moans, loud.
“Fuck me, Roger. Now.”
Roger moans, wanting nothing else but the professional in him nags him to check his watch. When he does, he pulls away with a shuddering breath, trying to regain control.
“W-we can’t. I’m going to”
Feliciano’s not hearing any of it though. Roger woke him up; he better damn well finish this off. His mouth lands back on top of Roger’s as his fingers travel below to peel away the designer trousers. That’s all the convincing Roger needs and he takes control. His tongue pushes at Feliciano’s mouth mercilessly, seeking the taste he thrives on. When Feliciano manages to pop open the button, Roger pulls away and twirls him around, covering his back completely as he leans in and sucks on Feli’s earlobe.
“I’m going to fuck you, right here, right now.”
Feliciano just moans and pushes his hips back, his thin boxers slipping down a little. Fingers hook in the waistband and tug the material down, giving Roger a view of Feliciano he loves best. Feliciano is clinging to the wall now, desperate to feel something, anything as he shoves his hips harder against Roger’s clothed arousal, loving the feel of the heavy heat. Roger places one hand on the small of his back, the other doing its best to unbutton his trousers. His fingers fumble but don’t stop; after all, they do have a time limit.
Hastily, Roger pulls out his cock and strokes, his length rapidly hardening. For a moment, he pulls away, just enough to observe the body in front of him. Feliciano has his head turned to the side against the plaster, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted and panting. His body is completely bare and shameless as he pokes his backside out, waiting utmost wantonly. Roger can’t wait anymore, so he doesn’t. He spits into his hand, regretting for a second for not stopping to get the lube. But the thought is gone as he coats his cock and haphazardly swipes his fingers across Feli’s entrance before pushing in. He’s mindful of his suit though and he tries his best not to lean against Feliciano’s back. A breath catches in Feliciano’s throat as he is penetrated without warning and loves every second of it. Roger’s fingers travel to his hair, grasping and curling around the long locks. His mouth attaches onto Feliciano’s earlobe, tongue and teeth brutally nipping at the flesh, mimicking the action and pace his cock has taken.
“I want to tie you up, Feli.” His voice is raspy against Feliciano’s ear, roughened by lust.
Feliciano bites his lip to stop a needy moan from escaping. Roger’s cock is so hard inside him, moving perfectly as though their bodies are made for each other. His eyes close, immediately envisioning Roger strapping him to a bed, to a chair, teasing him mercilessly before fucking him into oblivion. His hips thrust back onto Roger’s, one hand coming off the wall and reaching back blindly for the Swiss’ solid presence.
“D-do it, Roger. T-tie me up.”
Roger leans forward, forgetting about his costly ensemble. The only thing he cares about right now is fucking Feliciano as hard and fast as he can.
“Should I use my tie, Feli? Would you like that? Fine Italian silk on your wrists? You’d look so fucking good, gold on gold.” His hips quicken as he pictures the Spaniard restrained and… “I’m promise I’m going to tie you up one day and fuck you so good. Would you beg, Feli? Beg now or else I won’t let you come.”
Feli whimpers. Roger only gets like this, horny with dominance, occasionally but it turns on Feliciano like nothing else. Not the time Nando fucked him in his box at the Bernabeu. Not the time Rafa and Carlos fucked him raw in the locker room at Roland Garros. Nothing comes close.
“Fuck me, Roger. Please. Harder. I need it, need you.”
One hand painfully fists Feliciano’s hair, tugging his head back so Roger can bite his neck at his pleasure. The other hand grips Feliciano’s hips as Roger gives him what he wants. Hard.
Feliciano’s fingers curl around Roger’s clothed bicep, the soft material under his touch. He definitely prefers the feel of Roger’s bare skin, but this doesn’t feel too bad. The material scrapes the backs of his thighs as Roger continues to pump fierily. Every part of him is alive, on fire because of Roger’s touch and it’s driving him crazy.
“Roger… Close. I need”
He doesn’t finish his words, doesn’t need to. Roger slides his fingers to wrap around Feliciano’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. His tongue is lapping, nipping at any and every piece of flesh presented in front of him. His lips latch on to Feliciano’s shoulder blades and suck cruelly, all intents and purposes to leave a mark. Feliciano snaps his hips back, moaning as Roger hits his spot repeatedly. Roger tightens his grip on the head of Feliciano’s cock and it is enough. He comes with a low cry, eyes closing, forehead resting against the wall. His hips don’t stop rocking, eager to please Roger. Roger grips to still them, leaving crescent shaped engravings in Feli’s skin, as he pounds into him four times before his orgasm rips through his body. Roger leans forward, resting his cheek again Feliciano’s sweaty skin, his hair falling and curling from the perspiration.
With a few more kisses to Feliciano’s skin, Roger places one hand on the wall above his head and pulls out, his heartbeat slowly becoming normal; the other rests on the small of Feli’s back, immobilizing him so Roger can watch his come trickle out the hot opening. It’s almost enough to make Roger hard all over again. Eventually the hand falls away and Feliciano turns around, smiling like a sly little kitten. He tilts his head for a soft skin before reaching for Roger’s wrist and leading them to the bed, where he gets in promptly. Feliciano cocks his head to the side, the question hanging in the air.
“I can’t Feli,” Roger says as he takes a look at his watch then his rumpled stained clothes. “If I get out of here in the next ten minutes, then I won’t be too late.”
Feliciano just gives him a sleepy cheeky grin as he settles against the pillows, exhaustion setting in once again. He fights to keep his eyes open as Roger whips off his now soiled Armani suit and throws on another perfectly tailored suit, charcoaled gray this time, throwing the dirty one carelessly on the bed. Feliciano sneaks his fingers across the sheet to enclose around gold silk. When Roger turns around, fully dressed and ready to go once again, he sees Feliciano playing with the tie.
“I keep it for later.” His eyes flicker to the gold tie then to Roger, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. Roger laughs as he bends down and places a kiss to his mouth, his voice a whisper.
“Good. I always hold my promises.”