Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

When Enemies Attract	By : tennisstar Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 3351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic, or claim that this is in any way representative of their true lives. I do not make any profit from the writing of this story. This is fiction.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
What did Roger mean when he said, "I'll see you later?" Was it, “Meet me later tonight?” Or “We’ll see each other at this tournament?” Or maybe even "I won't be able to breathe till we meet again?" That’s kind of how Novak felt when he watched Roger walk out the door.
Or was it just something someone says to, like, fill space? And what is he thinking right now? Is he also obsessed, anxious, going from one endless hour to the next, wondering what's going to happen between us?
Novak was ready to sneak up to Roger’s room the moment he left the party, but if he had interpreted Rafa’s ramblings correctly, the Swiss man wouldn’t be there for another two hours. Instead, Novak picked up some take out and sat in his room, pondering the possibilities of what could happen, and gradually beginning to doubt himself. He hadn’t been there long before Ana came knocking on his door. Ana claimed she could hear him thinking from three rooms down, where she was staying with her boyfriend, but Novak was quite sure Ana could smell his Chinese food from the hallway and wanted to steal an eggroll.
She asked why he was so spacey, since he hadn’t spoke much since she entered the room, but Novak refused to dump his problems on her twice in one day, his pride wouldn’t allow that. Plus he was well-aware how ridiculous she would think him, panicking over such a casual phrase, since it was Roger’s last words that had him so lost in thought. What exactly did Roger mean by “see you later?” The possibilities were endless. Why did he have to be so vague?
Novak didn’t want to tell Ana about any of this, or hear her interpretation of Roger’s words. If she wrote it off as something incredibly casual, like he was beginning to, Novak would be majorly disappointed. Somehow it would be even worse if she agreed it was an invitation, could he really trust her hopelessly romantic mind to interpret correctly? The lack of sharing created awkward silence between them, she too seemed to have something she wanted to say, but she refrained.
Ana left soon after she arrived, only staying about fifteen minutes. She seemed hesitant to leave her boyfriend alone too long with his doubles partner, and had Novak not had problems of his own he might have inquired as to why. Maybe that’s what she was nervous about, Novak thought vaguely. After she was gone, Novak continued to think over his options. It was already nine o’clock and he had no clue what he was going to do.
Novak imagined being brave, showing up at Roger’s door fearlessly. He could see Roger’s welcoming smile and knew the happiness that waited behind that door. He just wanted to talk openly with Roger, like they couldn’t earlier, or do something like that. He didn’t want to think of all that could happen when they next saw each other, it would ruin it somehow. But then there was that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. What if Roger wasn’t expecting him tonight?
Ideally, Roger would be happy to see him anytime, but there was a good chance he could show up at an inconvenient time, or worse, when Roger wasn’t alone. Even before Novak starting seeing Roger he had enough good sense to be scared of Mirka, but now the thought of her was frightening.
There was a good chance Novak would embarrass himself, and he really didn’t want to act like a fool in front of Roger. God knows he did that enough before they were friends, and then there was his obnoxious family who specialized in humiliating him. Yeah, he’d embarrassed himself enough in front of Roger. But then there was that part of him that said it would be worth it, just to have an unguarded moment with Roger. If only he could figure out what Roger meant.
At the time it seemed to mean “I’ll see you later tonight,” but now he wasn’t so sure. How many times had Novak said see you later to someone he didn’t expect to see in the near future, at least not by intention. Just a couple days ago he’d told Murray he’d see him later, knowing they would not meet again for at least two weeks. Wouldn’t he be surprised if Murray showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night?
Novak knew it was different with him and Roger, but it’s not like they had established terms or anything. For all he knew it was empty casual words, just like every other thing they said to each other at that party. And Rafa had been there too, which made the message even more meaningless. He was probably just saying goodbye to them and Novak was overanalyzing it. But then there was the key. Why would Roger give him a room key if he didn’t want him to come over? Maybe it’s for later this week, Novak thought, we always get together at the end of the week. He’ll probably text me with a plan or something later this week.
He looked over to the clock, it was finally ten, but Novak was nowhere near ready to leave his room. Could his knowledge of Roger’s schedule tonight be a coincidence as well? How could anyone predict that Nadal would relay all that to him specifically? But then again, paired with the key, and the stupid vague “see you later,” it somehow seemed like more.
Novak climbed into his bed, turning out all the lights. He tried, made a genuine effort to fall asleep, but even his body was aware that he had somewhere better to be. He wouldn’t be able to sleep in his own bed knowing that he could be in Roger’s. Well-aware that he could be facing a hellish, sleepless night, Novak tries to pep himself up, reminding himself that he is spontaneous and confident, praying those attributes would show up soon. He left the room, palming the key nervously in his pocket, hoping this meeting would be worth all the anxiety.
-------------------------------------------------------
Roger got out of his dinner meeting early, and after walking him to the door, Mirka left him alone for the night. He was now remembering why he loved this tournament, the whole first day of play was doubles and the low seeds, so Roger wouldn’t even be playing tomorrow. Neither will Nole, his mind added. If he wanted to come over we could spend the whole night together and not have to rush off the next morning.
The only thing Roger had planned for the next day was a practice session, and that wasn’t until past noon. He didn’t know Novak’s schedule, but it was probably similar, only a trip to the practice courts to plan for. For once, the situation was ideal; Roger could only hope that Novak could put together his hints.
By eleven, Roger was beginning to lose that hope. It might’ve been easier to just text Novak, but at this point Roger was afraid of seeming desperate. He put the ball in Novak’s court, gave him the key, and hopefully Rafa would unknowingly play his part. It was a subtle advance, perhaps too subtle given that Novak wasn’t here and it was past the meeting time, but it was all Roger could offer. He wasn’t the kind of guy to just throw himself at someone, even if he felt like it right now.
Roger felt a bit ridiculous. He had showered the moment he got home, thinking there was a time crunch. Roger wanted to be ready if Novak did come over. Before it had always been a spontaneous thing, Novak showing up at his room, him showing up at Novak’s, but this time it was planned…kind of.
He had changed into “comfortable” clothes when he got out of the shower, and styled his hair just right so it looked natural, but still effortlessly curly. He felt stupid for pulling on a snugger shirt than he would usually wear to bed, not to mention upgrading his usual briefs for his Calvin’s, covered only by a loose pair of pajama bottoms, the famous label just peaking over the waistband. All of this done with hopeful expectation that Novak would be sneaking in soon, but it seemed it was all for nothing.
It was getting late, at eleven thirty he decided to finally let his eyes close, there was no use staying up all night, at least not alone…
-------------------------------------------------------
Novak finally got up the nerve to approach the door. No matter how many times he’d done this, it never gets any easier. But this time, he has a key. Novak listens at the door for a moment before keying in, if Mirka was in there, or the TV was on, he’d be able to hear through the door. He heard only silence. Novak proudly used the key, scared and excited as to what he’d find inside. Silently, Novak creeps into the room.
He finds Roger already in bed, the covers unmade on the other side, looking like it was expecting to be filled. Roger is facing away from him, with his back to the door. He was shirtless and the covers hovered down near his waist. Novak moved closer, not trying to be especially quiet any longer, half of him hoping to wake Roger so he wouldn’t have to leave. He couldn’t just crawl into bed with Roger without him knowing, could he?
Novak sat lightly on the edge of the bed, leaning over Roger to see if his eyes were closed. From his deep breathing, Novak could only assume that Roger was truly asleep, and he was too late, or perhaps lucky that he didn’t get caught being here when he wasn’t supposed to be. Knowing it was time to go, Novak leaned in close, resting his hand lightly on Roger’s bicep and placing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.
Novak stood up to leave, but before he could even take a step he heard rustling behind him. He’s probably just turning in his sleep, Novak explained to himself, not wanting to get his hopes up that Roger was awake and ready to welcome him into his bed. That is, until he felt fingers close around his wrist and a brief tug, pulling him backwards so he fell onto the bed. Suddenly, Novak found himself looking up into the hazy brown eyes of Roger Federer.
-------------------------------------------------------
Roger heard the door click open. He wasn’t quite asleep, but just close enough that he didn’t want to move or open his eyes until he was sure he hadn’t imagined it. He had been waiting for that sound all evening, and yet it seemed unreal, mostly because he was pretty much asleep when he heard it. A part of him wanted to jump up and run to the door, in case it was Novak finally showing up, but he had already given up on that, abandoned the fitted tee that made him actually look kind of muscular, rather than skinny and lean.
The thought that it could be Mirka ran through his mind, it was entirely possible that she’d finally harassed the man downstairs into making her another key, she was accomplished enough at nagging to do that with ease, but she didn’t have a reason to be here this late.
He heard footsteps approaching, nearing the bed, but he didn’t move. It wasn’t until he felt a dip in the mattress beside him that Roger knew it couldn’t be Mirka. It wasn’t unusual for her to check on him during tournaments, but it had been over a year since they slept in the same bed at one. It was highly unlikely that Mirka would suddenly break that habit, which means it must be Novak. Roger still found himself motionless, afraid that if he moved Novak would get startled and leave him.
Roger felt a strong hand on his arm and he could feel hot breath against his back. For a moment he thought Novak was just going to crawl under the covers and cuddle up to him, something that Roger would most definitely not object to, but that didn’t seem to be his plan. Roger felt lips on his neck; the furthest Novak could reach from this position. It was the sweetest kiss Roger could imagine, perfectly soft and almost comforting in a way. He wondered if Novak would have even done it if he knew Roger was awake, something about that kiss spoke more than either of them had dared to say.
Just as quickly as it came, the lips were gone, taking the pleasant hand and body heat with them. Roger realized exactly what that meant, Novak was leaving. Turning over quickly, not even bothering to untangle himself from the covers, Roger sent out a panicked hand to stop Novak. He found a wrist and gave a tug, seemingly delighted when the off-balanced Serb fell back onto the bed.
Roger was looking down at him now from his sitting position, one arm up near Novak’s head, making sure he didn’t run into the headboard. Their eyes met and Roger felt a smile tugging at his lips, never was he so happy to see that perfect shade of hazel green. Roger paused for a moment over the Serb, unsure what he wanted, or what Novak wanted. Roger wanted so badly to talk to him like they hadn’t been able to earlier, to hold him because it’d been so long since he could, and to kiss him like there’s no tomorrow, because for once, there was no match tomorrow.
“I guess you were awake then,” Novak said wryly, a smirk settling nicely across his features. Roger thought vaguely how nobody else could pull off a smirk like Novak; he actually makes it look kind of cute. Roger smirked back, hesitantly, thinking it couldn’t possibly look as good on him. He was now aware how much he’d missed actually hearing those little remarks Novak always made, reading them was one thing, and perfectly enjoyable when they were apart, but god he loved hearing it in Novak’s voice. But still, it was the smirk that got him; the same arrogant little “I know I’m right” saucy smirk that Roger used to hate was all the encouragement he needed to take things further.
Roger leaned into the searing kiss, Novak meeting him with equal vigor; apparently he’d been anticipating this moment too. It was needier than their prior kisses, both anxious to explore and hesitant to part, even for breath. The positioning was slightly awkward, Roger still sitting upright beside Novak who was lying down completely, leaving him to lean both downward and sideways, but they didn’t let that slow them down.
Roger felt himself groan in appreciation as Novak’s hands roamed his bare chest, mapping out the muscles there. Roger nearly yelped in surprise when Novak firmly gripped his hips and pulled him over on top of him. There was still space between them, space that Roger was hesitant to close. He pushed Novak away for a moment, rolling his shirt over his head. Roger was shaken by the desire he saw in Novak’s eyes, knowing it was the same lust that he felt pumping through his veins.
It was getting hot, unbearably hot and Roger was anxious to shed his remaining clothes. The pajama pants were easy enough to shimmy out of, even under the covers, but he was nervous to take it any further, at least not until Novak was doing the same. Roger wrapped a questioning finger around the waistband of Novak’s pants, seeking permission to remove them. Novak lifted his hips to allow Roger to push them down, inadvertently arching into Roger’s groin. Two whimper-like moans filled the room, neither sure which was their own as they made closer contact than ever before. Novak’s pants were thrown to the ground nearby as Roger attached his mouth to the Serb’s neck, licking and sucking experimentally as he started rolling his hips against Novak.
The younger man was making the most delicious groans as Roger ground against him, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin of his collarbone. But still it wasn’t enough, they needed more. “Off,” Novak mumbled, tugging desperately at his boxers, practically ripping them off. Roger rolled off him for a moment so they could shed the last barrier between them. After hastily removing their underwear, Roger climbed back on top. He paused for a moment, well-aware that they were completely naked and could go as far as they wanted, uninterrupted. Roger considered grabbing some lotion from the bathroom and fucking Novak senseless, but as he looked down, Roger saw the vulnerability in Novak’s eyes, and his position, and knew it wasn’t worth the risk of hurting Novak. Roger didn’t know the first thing about gay sex and until he did they couldn’t go any further.
Lowering his hips to once again meet Novak’s body, Roger started grinding again, this time much more frantically and Novak rocked up to meet him thrust for thrust. The friction was intense, nothing separating their hardened flesh now. Roger could feel himself growing closer to release, and from Novak’s moans he was close too. Roger began his assault on Novak’s neck again, wanting to be even closer to the Serb. His eyes were screwed shut, lost in the sensations, but Roger wanted to see his eyes as his orgasm rocked through his body. Licking the shell of his ear, feeling with delight the shiver that ran through the younger man, Roger whispered “open your eyes for me, baby.” Novak did just that and Roger found himself lost in the hazel orbs, so glazed with lust it was a wonder Nole could see through them. He saw, just as much as he felt, Novak’s release and the sight sent him over the edge, erupting on their toned stomachs.
They laid there for a moment, both feeling the after effects and too tired to move. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Roger registered the fingers lightly rubbing against his back and the way it sent shivers down his spine. Roger was the first to stir, pulling his weight off of a very drowsy looking Novak and grabbing a towel out of his nearby tennis bag and wiping the come off their bellies. Nike probably wouldn’t appreciate it if they knew what he using the towel for and something about that made him incredibly happy. When he lay back down, Novak nodded his head as if to say thanks and cuddled up to him, placing a light chaste kiss to his neck, reminding Roger how all this started.
It minutes Novak was asleep, looking perfectly peacefully with the most adorable little smirk on his face. Roger knew his friend had only got into Germany that afternoon, and he couldn’t have adjusted to the jet lag yet, a week in Dubai will put you on a different schedule than in Europe, but still, he came over despite his obvious tiredness. Roger stays awake for a while, enjoying having the Serb near him again, hoping that this will continue throughout the week…and for a long time after that.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
That was the best sleep Novak has ever gotten, that he was sure of. He looked up at Roger from his place on the man’s chest and smiled at the way his hair drooped over his eyes. It wasn’t as tidy as usual; perhaps comparable to the way it is after a match, still relatively styled, but obviously touched by sweat. If the man didn’t look so peaceful, Novak would have reached up and tuck the lock behind Roger’s ear, but he didn’t dare move enough to wake him. Novak wondered how long Roger stayed up, knowing he still looked relatively awake when Novak had dozed off. Hopefully he was happy with what happened between them, Novak certainly was, and he was hoping there wouldn’t be awkwardness between them now. They had spent nights together, several by now, but never had they gotten off. It was different now, more intense and yet peaceful somehow, and Novak couldn’t help but think they really felt like boyfriends now.
There was a knock at the door, so soft that if Novak hadn’t been awake he wouldn’t have heard it. Without thinking, Novak climbed out of bed, replacing his body with a pillow so Roger wouldn’t notice his absence before he could crawl back in. Pulling on his boxers from the previous night, Novak approached the door. Looking through the peek hole, Novak saw a very confused looking Rafa. He opened the door without thought.
“Oh, Nole?” Rafa said, his features taking on a new level of confusion, a bit more of an inquisitive quirk to his raised eyebrow. That was when Novak realized what he had just done, answered the door to Roger’s hotel room, possibly exposed their relationship, all because he was still in a state of bliss.
Novak let Rafa inside, deciding not to acknowledge his confusion. “What can I do for you, Rafa?”
“Oh, I thought. Roger,” Rafa said, looking at the number on the door, wondering if perhaps he came to the wrong room. “You is speaking German?” he asked, abandoning his search for Roger.
“Um, yeah,” Novak said carefully. German wasn’t his best language, but he obviously knew more than Nadal.
Rafa shoved the room service menu into his arms. “I is wanting omelets and is not understanding!” he said almost hysterically, making Novak wonder how long Rafa had been attempting to communicate with the hotel staff.
“Wait here,” Novak said, going into the main bedroom, thankfully hidden from the entry room, to get his key. When he returned, Novak and Rafa went to the Spaniard’s room so that he could place the order for him. After ordering all the breakfast Rafa would need, Novak snuck out before questions arose about the room again. Sneaking back into Roger’s room, Novak crawled into bed as if nothing had happened, hoping that Rafa wouldn’t tattle on him, if he ever figured it out.
- 10
- 11
- 12
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

When Enemies Attract