FIC: I wanna mm, part IV
Title : I wanna mmm
Characters: Stan, Mario
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Teaser: That happened during the Australia Open. It was hot. Too hot. And he was kind of depressed since the Kooyong final. And worst of all, Roger had cut his hair.
Stan instinctively closed his eyes, and curled himself in Mario’s neck, before something rang a bell in his mind: well, if the guy waiting in front of the lift was Roger, that reflex wasn’t exactly the most appropriate one. His second thought was : I’m stupid yellow-bellied. But on feeling Mario’s curls tickling his brow, all his thoughts vanished.Then a chuckle coming from Mario finally incited Stan to dare open his eyes and turn his head to the third wheel. Well, the third wheelS. What he saw let him both deeply relieved, amused and perplexed.
Marat. That guy was everywhere. Everytime a tennis player, in whichever hotel around the world, was caught in a more or less compromising situation by someone, it was by Marat. The latter himself in more or less commendable compagny. This time, Marat’s compagny were never prostitutes, nor a group of giggling young cleaning lady, nor the gay son of the hotel’s manager. Marat, visibly as sober as usual, was held up by both arms by Radek and Juanqui, both in mini-skirts and high heels, and having some difficulties to use those women’s instruments of torture the right way.
Marat’s face was covered up with red lipstick, and he had a satisfied and tired sigh, and a breath heavy with vodka. The two transvestites were themselves as sober as the pretty Russian, and Juanqui let escape a girlish giggle and waddled when he saw Mario and Stan together, while staggering more and more on his high heels.
After a quick nod at Marat, Mario took Stan by the hand and led him to his room, the younger man turning his head a last time toward the curious party, before they reached Mario’s door. Then it barely took them a quarter of a second to resume their activity. Before he could even realize it, Stan was in the taller man’s bed in boxer, Mario’s body pressed against him and his breath in his neck, Mario’s hands running on his body, his eyes devouring Stan’s face. The room was silent but for Mario’s panting breath and Stan’s sweet moans. Their boxer disappeared as quickly as their clothes before, and Mario began to play with the younger man’s cock. He laid kisses on it, but Stan’s moans were begging for more. So he took it in his mouth and from that moment, he made Stan’s back arching to the poing it almost became painful. The Swiss had grabbed Mario’s hair and when he came in his mouth, his fingers convulsively tightened the dark curls, before slowly releasing his hold.
Mario laid on Stan, smiling.
_” mm, my Ewok.”
At the hearing of that nickname, Stan grabbed Mario’s cock:
_” Not of that with me, Mario.”
The Croatian had a playful smile:
_” And what are you going to do?”
Without a word, Stan began to play with the tip of his cock with his thumb, his eyes not leaving Mario’s. The Croatian tried to have a defying look but soon he closed his eyes and let himself go. The thumb was soon replaced by a whole hand, running along his cock, being everywhere in the same time, teasing his prepus more and more. Stan could read on his face he was going to come. And he stopped to masturbate him.
Mario opened his eyes, and Stan could see these huge pupils of him, full of surprise. Stan had a smirky smile.
_ ” please, Stanley.....”
_ ”mm I prefer that one”, he said.
-END-
Characters: Stan, Mario
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Teaser: That happened during the Australia Open. It was hot. Too hot. And he was kind of depressed since the Kooyong final. And worst of all, Roger had cut his hair.
Stan instinctively closed his eyes, and curled himself in Mario’s neck, before something rang a bell in his mind: well, if the guy waiting in front of the lift was Roger, that reflex wasn’t exactly the most appropriate one. His second thought was : I’m stupid yellow-bellied. But on feeling Mario’s curls tickling his brow, all his thoughts vanished.Then a chuckle coming from Mario finally incited Stan to dare open his eyes and turn his head to the third wheel. Well, the third wheelS. What he saw let him both deeply relieved, amused and perplexed.
Marat. That guy was everywhere. Everytime a tennis player, in whichever hotel around the world, was caught in a more or less compromising situation by someone, it was by Marat. The latter himself in more or less commendable compagny. This time, Marat’s compagny were never prostitutes, nor a group of giggling young cleaning lady, nor the gay son of the hotel’s manager. Marat, visibly as sober as usual, was held up by both arms by Radek and Juanqui, both in mini-skirts and high heels, and having some difficulties to use those women’s instruments of torture the right way.
Marat’s face was covered up with red lipstick, and he had a satisfied and tired sigh, and a breath heavy with vodka. The two transvestites were themselves as sober as the pretty Russian, and Juanqui let escape a girlish giggle and waddled when he saw Mario and Stan together, while staggering more and more on his high heels.
After a quick nod at Marat, Mario took Stan by the hand and led him to his room, the younger man turning his head a last time toward the curious party, before they reached Mario’s door. Then it barely took them a quarter of a second to resume their activity. Before he could even realize it, Stan was in the taller man’s bed in boxer, Mario’s body pressed against him and his breath in his neck, Mario’s hands running on his body, his eyes devouring Stan’s face. The room was silent but for Mario’s panting breath and Stan’s sweet moans. Their boxer disappeared as quickly as their clothes before, and Mario began to play with the younger man’s cock. He laid kisses on it, but Stan’s moans were begging for more. So he took it in his mouth and from that moment, he made Stan’s back arching to the poing it almost became painful. The Swiss had grabbed Mario’s hair and when he came in his mouth, his fingers convulsively tightened the dark curls, before slowly releasing his hold.
Mario laid on Stan, smiling.
_” mm, my Ewok.”
At the hearing of that nickname, Stan grabbed Mario’s cock:
_” Not of that with me, Mario.”
The Croatian had a playful smile:
_” And what are you going to do?”
Without a word, Stan began to play with the tip of his cock with his thumb, his eyes not leaving Mario’s. The Croatian tried to have a defying look but soon he closed his eyes and let himself go. The thumb was soon replaced by a whole hand, running along his cock, being everywhere in the same time, teasing his prepus more and more. Stan could read on his face he was going to come. And he stopped to masturbate him.
Mario opened his eyes, and Stan could see these huge pupils of him, full of surprise. Stan had a smirky smile.
_ ” please, Stanley.....”
_ ”mm I prefer that one”, he said.
-END-