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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
“You have dampener I borrow?” was the strange text Roger received just after his quarters win over Monfils. He was now in his hotel room and rifling through his bag. Rarely did he use vibration dampeners, but against certain opponents, with certain types of spin, it was necessary. Why Rafa needed to borrow one he didn’t know. Roger did know that Babolat wouldn’t be very happy if their star player showed up to a match with the little Wilson symbol on his racket.
“Of course, I’m in my room,” he replied, finally pulling out the little black piece of rubbery material and placing it on the chest of drawers. Nadal must have a night practice session, Roger thought, considering that it was nearly eight o’clock already and the matches for the day were over; that is, if Novak had finished off Murray by now. He was almost done when Roger left the tennis center, but with only a couple thousand fans there the Swiss man didn’t dare stick around to watch Nole play.
It wasn’t long before Rafa was at his door, knocking aggressively in a way that only he could make seem friendly, despite the strength behind his fists. As Roger opened the door he noticed his friend’s expression read more of confusion than the usual bouncy excitement he typically found in Rafa. The Spaniard entered the room, looking puzzlingly at the door as it closed.
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“You change room?” Rafa asked in a way that was more like a statement. They continued further into the room before Roger answered, the embroidered linens coming into view.
“Obviously not,” Roger said as Rafa plopped himself down on the bed, examining one of the pillows amusedly.
“Is nice. You draw?” Nadal asked, tracing the stitched letters with his finger. The text was fancy and Rafa couldn’t help but think it was perfect for the elegant man. It was exactly the kind of thing he never thought of, making a brand of himself, capitalizing on his fame, but looking at the gold stitched pillows and bedspread, Rafa felt like a little boy who wanted someone else’s candy.
“Mirka and her father designed it for merchandise. I’m not sure I like it in gold, a bit gaudy,” Roger replied, looking down at the bedspread which was also stitched with the logo, though sparingly and from afar it just looked like golden spots.
“I like. Gold for champion. You should put on jacket at Wimbledon,” Rafa suggested earnestly. The more he looked at it, the more he wanted one of his own. Maybe if Roger’s went over well with Nike they would work on one for Nadal too.
Roger opened his mouth in response, but before he could say anything the door beeped softly, indicating that someone used a keycard, and they could hear someone shuffling through the door. It sounded like they were struggling to get through, perhaps holding something. Rafa sat on the bed, quickly preparing his greeting in English, knowing Mirka did not speak any Spanish. He vaguely noticed that Roger’s eyes were wide in what he could only assume to be nervous anticipation. It was no secret to him that the famous relationship was slowly falling apart, but from what he could tell they were still on relatively good terms, so Roger had no reason to be looking so fearful except…
“I picked up some Japanese food from that place around the corner,” said a familiar voice, but Rafa knew it couldn’t really be him. What would he be doing here? They could hear shoes being slipped off and keys set down on the table, maybe even a cell phone, but neither of them had any words until Novak finally entered the room.
“Nole,” Rafa said in awe, choosing his nickname instead of his given name. Rafa really didn’t like saying k’s in English, even more than he didn’t like English in the first place.
Novak paused, clearly not expecting Rafa no more than he was expecting the Serb and Roger was just planted in his spot by the armoire, making no effort to explain. He looked confused and panicky, for a moment Rafa thought Novak might’ve broke into the room or something. They were exchanging glances full of some emotion Rafa couldn’t quite put his finger on, it was like they were speaking through gestures and he didn’t know the language. Why are they acting so strange? Rafa asked himself, wishing, as always, that there was someone in his mind that knew the answer.
“Oh and I, uh, picked up some extra in case Rafa wanted to join us,” Novak stumbled out, attempting to pick up the conversation from where he left it, talking about the food. “You know, like you texted me to do?”
Novak seemed to be looking for an answer, or support of some kind, and it seemed that Roger came through. “Right,” he confirmed, smiling and waving Novak more into the room. “Since Murray isn’t here, I invited Novak over to hang out. You’re welcome to join us, unless you have plans with the Armada or something.”
Rafa knew they weren’t being entirely truthful, but for now he couldn’t tell what they were hiding. As long as they’re not cheating in their matches, I don’t care, he told himself. The prospect of a night away from Feliciano, Fernando and Ana sounded promising, and since when did he turn down food invitations?
Gathering his English, Rafa replied excitedly, “I love to. I get away from Feli, Nando and Ana. Is awkward with them.” He explained, looking interestedly at Novak’s bag of food. “Is good? Japan?”
“My favorite, actually,” Roger responded as he moved over onto the bed. Novak followed with the food, setting a deliberate distance between them so that they were close, but not suspiciously close as Rafa rifled through the cartons of food. He seemed delighted to find a dish with noodles and shrimp, which made Novak glad he got a variety. He wasn’t sure what kind of food Roger liked, so he pretty much got a little bit of everything, including seafood.
Rafa lets the other two choose their food before grabbing the carton with sea scallops and rice, placing it by his knee, guarding it from the others. He was used to ordering out food with his Spanish friends, and no matter who orders what it always comes down to how fast you grab. They talk amicably for a while, discussing tennis and gossiping about other players in between bites. Roger flinched slightly when Rafa asked him about Mirka and their recent trip to Switzerland. He really looked like he’d rather not answer, his eyes flickering over to Novak for a moment before answering it was fine, uneventful mostly. Since when is Mirka a bad subject to bring up to Roger?
He tried Djokovic. “You is go to the clubs?” Everybody on tour knew Novak liked to party. He didn’t usually drink, probably at the request of his coach or trainer, but that didn’t keep him from going out.
Novak scratched his head, looking far too nervous over a simple question. “Um not really. I’ve been…uh, kind of busy.” Rafa rolled his eyes, even he could tell that something was going on. What weren’t they telling him?
He remembered Ana saying something about Novak being busy too. Nando was asking Ana to invite Novak to hang out with them sometime, since he is such a good friend of hers. She said something like his time was otherwise occupied at the moment, despite it being late at night. What would he have been doing?
It was then that Rafa remembered Novak’s strange appearance in this room a couple days ago. He was certain that he came to room 604 that morning, and now that he knew Roger hadn’t changed rooms, his suspicions returned full force.
“You is here for dinner today, but why is you here before?” Rafa asked suddenly, surprising both his friends who were talking about something else. Novak nearly choked on a spoonful of noodles. Avoiding Roger’s questioning gaze, Novak responded simply with a question of his own.
“What?”
Rafa squinted his eyes in thought, trying to recall the day. “Is Tuesday. I come here early and you answer door. You no remember?”
Novak looked as though he’d really like this conversation to go away, anything but answer that question. The Serb glanced over to Roger hesitantly, and looked surprised when the man simply shrugged. Rafa was waiting for some sort of answer, but Novak didn’t have much of one. “Yeah, I remember,” he said, knowing that didn’t answer much. Luckily, Roger took over.
“Novak was here because we’re together,” Roger said with confident ease, seemingly unfazed by putting everything on the line by outing them to Nadal.
“You together?” Rafa questioned, looking between them and not quite understanding. Roger took a deep breath, steadying himself for what he was sure would be a significant moment, at least for him and Novak.
“Novak is my boyfriend,” Roger said as firmly as he could manage, feigning confidence that he didn’t quite have. Hesitantly, Roger looked over to Novak and felt a swell in his chest when he saw the Serb smiling brightly.
“Oh,” said Rafa quietly, looking down at his hands. He was expecting an admission of friendship, or maybe that they were playing video games together in their free time, he never expected them to be in a relationship. Rafa saw Novak scoot closer to Roger on the bed, not enough to make him uncomfortable, but enough to show that Roger wasn’t joking. They really were together.
Rafa seemed to have lost his words, or at least his English words, which were always a struggle to find. He really didn’t know what to say. He doesn’t really know too many gay people, and those he does know are probably atypical, the Spanish versions were easier for him to understand. When he found out about Fernando and Feliciano, they never sat him down like this, explained it to him. He just happened to walk into the shower room at the wrong time and saw them going at it. They didn’t even notice much as he stood there gaping, but when they did turn to him, Rafa took off running and left without showering. A couple days later he saw them and Fernando said “so now you know we’re fucking.” That was it. To this day he’s still not sure what’s going on between them, now that they both have semi-serious girlfriends, but they still wander off sometimes together and Rafa is pretty sure he knows what they’re doing.
He looked up to find the two men anxiously awaiting his response. It must’ve been several minutes now that he was lost in his memories, trying to find some precedent to follow. He still didn’t know what to say, but he knew they were going crazy with him just saying nothing, so he said the only thing that came to mind. “I not know what to say.”
Roger released a breath he must’ve been holding for awhile, he seemed slightly relieved, though Rafa couldn’t figure out why. “Just say what you’re thinking,” Novak suggested, retreating further toward Roger until the older man put a reassuring arm on his back. Rafa felt the corner of his mouth pull into a small smile, there was something cute about them, something he was surprised he hadn’t noticed before. Would that be weird for him to say?
“I think I should say I okay with it,” Rafa started, trying very hard to gather his thoughts and force them into understandable words. Why did his English always abandon him at moments like this? “Which I am,” he clarified, realizing that he was kind of vague before. “Then I thinks that wrong thing to say. I means, we is friends,” Rafa said, pointing between them to emphasize his point. “Is not like you needing my permiso to be together.”
Rafa seemed satisfied with his answer, saying all that he could manage and only slipping into his native tongue once. There was calmness in the room again and Rafa was grateful for it. He’d been around enough drama this week and thankfully Roger and Novak were mature enough to just talk to him like an adult instead of treating him like a child. Realizing he was inwardly ranting about Nando and Feli, Rafa shut down that line of thought, at least until he could vent about it properly to David or Tommy. Suddenly, the thought hit him, did everybody know about Roger and Novak but him?
“Everyone is knowing but me?” Rafa asked, wondering if he was once again the last to know about the personal lives of his fellow players.
“Actually, none of the other players know,” Roger said, sliding his hand around to grip Nole’s waist. “We’re keeping it a secret, for now.”
Rafa nodded, he understood. As soon as the players know something, the press soon hears it. Nobody wants their private life plastered across some website. He remembered all too well how Xisca freaked out when her picture was suddenly all over the internet, articles claiming they were a couple way before they actually were, and that was with only one famous tennis player involved. Looking at the pair in front of him, smiling at each other and happier than he’d seen either of them, Rafa knew he couldn’t tell anyone.
“I like secrets,” Rafa said, hoping that they would understand he was saying theirs was safe.
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Each night passed similarly to their first night there, or at least their way of sexual release was the same. They were getting better at it, Novak noticed, more in sync with their movements and less amateur-like. He could feel himself growing more comfortable with Roger in those moments of heated passion, and as the week went on they were spending more time together before they hooked up at night. The relationship was growing and with each day that passed Novak felt more alive, and noticeably happier according to Ana.
The Nadal thing was a scare, a wakeup call that they weren’t being as careful as they thought. Truthfully, they were lucky it was Rafa that discovered them; anyone else might not have been so accepting. Novak shivered at the thought of Murray finding out. He’d been around for one too many faggot jokes to place that kind of trust in his old friend, not to mention the fact that Murray likes to poke fun at Roger behind his back. There were few people Novak could imagine trusting with a secret so precious to him, and though he never thought of telling Rafa, he was sure Nadal could handle it. For several years they’ve been friendly acquaintances, but now Novak truly thought of Rafael as a friend. Like sharing a secret was some kind of initiation, something that brought them closer, in the same way his closeness with Roger grew when they first became secret friends.
Novak felt the urge to run over to Ana’s room and gush about everything that just happened, in what was surely a very unmanly way, but he didn’t want to be away from Roger for that long. He could always tell her tomorrow during the day when he wouldn’t feel like he was wasting valuable time. Novak just wanted to tell someone about that night, explain it in narrative-like detail, tell them how he could feel his relationship with Roger change during that discussion, felt it developing into something he’d never felt before.
Roger, always the gentleman, walked Rafa to the door, talking about some arbitrary vibration dampener. Novak sat on the bed thinking about that brilliant moment when Roger called him his boyfriend. It sounded so simple, how many girls had he allowed to call him boyfriend without any intention of acting like one. When Roger said it, he took it seriously, mostly because Novak was beginning to realize it’s what he had wanted all along.
Later that night Novak felt the change most…
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“I give you tomorrow,” Rafa said, slipping the little W into his pocket. “I is just needing it for tonight.” Roger nodded, he was right, Rafa had a night practice session.
“Isn’t it a bit late for practice? It’s nearly ten,” Roger offered, knowing that Rafa didn’t pay any attention to time, he ran on Nadal time.
“Is not in Majorca. I on España schedule,” Rafa said, cracking the door open, but not quite leaving.
“Too bad this tournament runs on German time,” Roger joked, seeing his friend out the door. Roger was surprised to see Mirka peek her head outside the room.
“Oh, I thought I heard voices out here,” she explained simply, offering Nadal a smile. “Hello, Rafael.”
“Oh, uh, hi Mirka,” Rafa stumbled out, putting far too much emphasis on the k in her name, as always. Roger nodded to her in acknowledgement, waved to Rafa and shut the door; he didn’t want to give her a reason to inquire further.
Roger flipped the light switches off aggressively, hoping that if Mirka had decided to follow him over, she would get the message to go away.
“Close call?” Novak joked as Roger plopped down on the bed beside him.
“Lots of that going around tonight,” Roger joked back, stretching out to lay on his back with his hands behind his head. Novak smiled at the ceiling; at this point he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Novak tried to be chill, lying thoughtfully still like Roger, but he was just too damn excited for that. He turned toward Roger, watching him as he laid peacefully still. Roger peaked open an eye to look at him wryly, like “I know you’re watching me,” but his smile told Novak that he didn’t mind.
Novak tried to be patient, give Roger his time to ponder whatever it was that was on his mind, but eventually he had to take action. Roger had become the initiator at some point in their previous nighttime meetings, but tonight Novak was feeling in control.
He rolled over onto Roger, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Roger didn’t hesitate for a moment, wrapping his arm around the back of Novak’s neck, pulling him closer. Novak shifted so he was on top of Roger, a leg on either side of him, sitting lightly on his stomach. It wasn’t how Roger usually does it, but Novak felt more comfortable this way. There was something thrilling about the way Roger’s hardening cock rubbed against his rear through all the layers of clothing and Novak couldn’t help but push back against it. Roger broke their kiss to let out a strangled moan, thrusting up to meet him.
Clothes were shed in the usual disorderly way, grabbing whatever is in the way and yanking it off. Everything was gone now but the underwear and neither made a move to shrug them off. They had gotten past this stage before, but this different position would mean a different kind of contact, something that hadn’t been discussed or planned for yet. If there were no underwear, Roger’s cock would be pressed against Novak’s ass and it wouldn’t take much to connect them. Roger knew he wasn’t ready, and cursed himself for being unprepared yet again for this moment. Novak wasn’t sure what to do, or what he wanted to do. Damn, I need to talk to Sven.
So after a heavy pause, Novak moved his hips just enough to rub against Roger’s crotch suggestively, telling him that this is what he wanted to do. Roger got the message. It was only moments later that they were both coming, the stickiness stifled by their underwear. Roger got the bedside towel so they could slip off the offensive garments and clean themselves before bed.
Novak had rolled off to the side so he wouldn’t suffocate Roger by sitting on his chest. He wasn’t as drained as usual, probably from the soda he drank at dinner. He listened for Roger’s breathing pattern, trying to decide if he was falling asleep or awake and waiting. He got his answer when Roger slinked an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Novak could see from his new position that Roger was very much awake, with a satisfied smile on his face.
“What you thinking about?” Roger asked, noticing his young friend focusing on something.
“Have you ever been with a guy before me?” Novak asked bluntly, finally secure enough in their relationship to inquire. He was almost positive that Roger had as little guy on guy experience as he did, but he was good enough at what they had done together so far that it might be possible he’d done it before. Or maybe he was just Roger Federer who was excellent at everything.
Roger blushed, just noticeable in the soft light of a lamp across the room. “Um, kind of,” he says vaguely, waiting for Novak to inquire further.
“Really?” Novak asks with genuine surprise, desperate to know every detail.
“Well I’ve kissed a couple of guys, nothing major,” Roger responded as casually as he could muster. It kind of was a big deal at the time.
“So really you shouldn’t have freaked out when I kissed you,” Novak said smartly.
“I didn’t-” Roger started, but he knew it wasn’t true. “Okay, fine I did freak out, but it was different.”
Novak felt himself blush and fought the urge to turn away to hide it. Is he saying they were better kissers than him? In Novak’s defense, he was drunk. “Different, how?”
“I don’t know, with you there was feelings and stuff. They were just some guys I lived with—” Roger paused when he saw Novak raise an eyebrow. Now that sounded suspicious.
“You lived with them?” Novak inquired.
Roger took a deep breath, realizing he would have to explain it all so that Novak wouldn’t freak out at every vague thing he said. “God, Stan would kill me if he knew I was telling you this. Promise you won’t bring it up to him?” Novak nodded.
“When I was fourteen, I was training at Swiss National, they rented a house for a couple of us young players. I think there were eight of us, all boys, with a very lenient house mom. So we only got one weekend off a month, and most of the boys would sneak into the clubs in Basel and try to make out with girls. I don’t even know who started it, but some of the guys started practicing kissing on each other and soon it just became a thing that all of us did. We never talked about it, somehow it just happened.” Novak was quiet, seemingly enjoying the story, so he continued. “I told my sister, Diana. She freaked out, got all excited that her baby brother might be gay.”
“I bet she’s thrilled now,” Novak said stupidly, wishing he could take his words back instantly. Why would he think that Roger would tell his family about them? Or anyone for that matter.
“She was definitely excited,” Roger said, thinking back to his sister’s reaction. “Partly because she hates Mirka so much, but mostly because she’s always thought I was gay and the psychologist in her couldn’t accept that I wasn’t.”
With his confidence restored, Novak delved deeper. “Did you tell her it was me?” Novak waited anxiously. It would make sense if Roger wanted to hide that detail from his family. They probably don’t like him much, especially with his recent winning record against Roger. He certainly wouldn’t be able to tell his family about Roger and hope for it to be accepted.
“Yeah,” Roger said, seeming almost shy. It was always weird to admit to someone how much they mean to you, even in an indirect way like this. Just the fact that Roger decided to take some of the secrecy out of their relationship and go public with one person he cared about, two if you count his admission to Rafa was significant. He thought of his sister’s reaction.
Roger leaned in close and whispered, “Novak Djokovic." She nearly fainted.
“Djokovic?” Diana asked amusedly, once she caught her breath. “But he hates you!”
“He does not!” Roger nearly shouted in defense.
“Well then you hate him,” she offered smartly. That Diana was sure of. Wasn’t it just in Australia that he was ranting about the Serb. Maybe it was just suppressed attraction, Diana thought.
“Obviously I don’t. Not anymore at least,” Roger confessed, thinking of the same conversation in Melbourne where he was brutally honest with his frustrations. But she doesn’t know what happened that night, Roger reminded himself.
“My God, Roger, he’s so young! What is he, 20?”
“21 I think,” Roger said, as if there was some big difference in the two. “I’m not exactly old. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, I’m your younger brother.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well you know I approve. He’s always been a favorite of mine,” Diana said, obviously thinking dreamily about the man in question. Roger had forgotten all about his sister’s fan-crush on Novak, he was so wrapped up in his own. “So when can I meet him?” Diana asked, repeating a question she’s asked many times by now. “You can’t make excuses now.”
“How about we’re hiding our relationship and we can’t be seen acting friendly,” Roger said smartly, knowing she couldn’t argue that.
“Well how about you invite me over when he’s at your place sometime, just for a bit,” she suggested innocently.
“I hate to tell you this, sis, but we’re usually quite busy then,” Roger said, trying to contain his blush, not exactly what you want to talk about with your sister.
“Naughty boy. I always knew you had it in you,” she chided. “But promise me I can meet him sometime. It doesn’t have to be as his boyfriend’s sister, just a big fan.”
“Alright, you wore me down.”
“She’s always been a fan of yours,” Roger said, shaking his head as if he didn’t understand how. “I guess she likes her tennis players pretty obnoxious.”
“Obnoxious, eh?” Novak questioned lightly, knowing Roger didn’t mean it in a bad way. Novak tilted his head into the crook of Roger’s neck. “I guess you like them pretty and obnoxious too,” he whispered twisting Roger’s words.
“I guess I do.”
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Novak first peaked open his eyes at seven in the morning. He had no reason to be up until at least nine, especially since Roger didn’t seem likely to stir anytime soon, but he was very much awake. Novak wondered why he was up so early, figuring that he must’ve slept really well to feel so refreshed. Hopefully this will last for my match later, Novak thought, dreading his semis match against Nadal. Despite Novak’s good results this year, Rafa was one of the players that consistently gave him trouble, not that he wanted to face Roger in the finals either.
Looking over at his boyfriend, Novak smiled as he realized he could say that now, Roger had finally defined them last night and not a moment too soon. Novak had asked himself a million times this week why he couldn’t just approach Roger about it, demand that they be something official, but even in his head he chickened out. He ended up reminding himself why he was letting Roger guide this relationship to a certain extent, which was because it was him who had the longtime girlfriend who was so engrained in his life that he couldn’t just let her go. Roger had the most to lose if anyone found out about them, so Novak just followed his lead.
At some point Novak’s hand, which was innocently resting on Roger’s stomach, began softly raking over the sensitive skin beneath. He didn’t even realize his fingers were moving until he draped his leg across Roger’s body, nudging against Roger’s half hard cock that wasn’t there a couple minutes ago. Roger breathed in sharply at the contact, but didn’t wake. That time was by accident, but Novak found himself “accidently” brushing against Roger several more times. He watched Roger’s face carefully, looking for any signs of him waking up. His peaceful expression had turned into a subtle smirk, which somehow felt like encouragement to Novak.
He was curious how far he could take this before Roger would wake up, or really, how far he could take it without making Roger mad when he did wake up. Novak’s curiosity was getting the best of him. The covers suddenly felt heavy and he wanted to push them off completely. Every time they hooked up, it was under the covers. He might’ve been able to feel Roger just fine, but he never got to see him properly. It was so formal and conservative, so unlike Novak. He figured if Roger was willing to relinquish control to him last night, maybe he wouldn’t mind if they did it his way.
Novak slowly pulled down the covers until it was pooled around their knees. He was awed by the sight in front of him. Novak was familiar with the strong sculpted arms, one of which was still tightly wrapped around his waist. The toned chest and abdomen beneath his hand was dusted lightly with brown hair, the lean muscles rippling softly in acknowledgement of his wandering hand. Novak’s hand travelled lower. He kept a firm grip on Roger’s hip, willing himself to hold back as he observed Roger’s now fully extended erection.
His first thought was it’s bigger than I thought. True, he had only felt it pressed against his own, and at that moment he wasn’t about to break out a measuring stick. Begrudgingly, he admitted that Roger’s cock was bigger than his own, something that didn’t at all seem fair. He’s already a better player…and probably a better person, does he have to have a bigger cock? Novak thought, regressing into the teenage years where that was a significant bragging right between boys. Despite his slight jealousy, Novak had to admit there was something beautiful about Roger’s dick, which was a strange enough thought. His impression of cocks this far was that they were useful, but not necessarily aesthetically pleasing, but Roger’s lived up to his standard of overall beauty.
Novak snuggled up to Roger, placing light open-mouthed kisses to his neck. He felt Roger’s breathing change, and only when he was sure the Swiss man was waking did he dare touch his erection. Roger groaned, the sound lost in his throat. Novak kissed his way to Roger’s mouth.
“You weren’t even going to wake me?” Roger asked huskily in a sleep heavy voice. Novak opened his eyes to meet the warm chocolate ones beneath him, glad to see a pleasant mixture of amusement and lust rather than the anger he feared.
“That’s what I’m doing,” Novak defended, recapturing Roger’s mouth as he rubbed his hand up and down Roger’s most sensitive flesh. He hadn’t really grabbed hold of the man’s cock yet, he was still unsure of what he wanted to do exactly. Roger bucked up his hips into Novak’s hand, moaning into the Serb’s mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed. Novak wrapped his hand around Roger’s erection and moved like he would on his own.
He was bringing Roger to the edge, Novak could feel his breathing become more and more labored and his hips rolling into Novak’s touch more aggressively. Novak was quite close himself, the friction of Roger’s leg moving his cock enough to stimulate him. Just when he thought Roger couldn’t hold back a moment longer the Swiss man surprised him.
“Wait,” he said in a heady voice, pushing Novak’s hand away. Novak retreated, discouraged and slightly embarrassed at the rejection. Roger seemed a bit too turned on to use his words properly, instead he grabbed Novak’s hand and guided him into the bathroom. Novak had no idea what he had planned until the older man turned on the shower. He had a feeling that Roger didn’t want them to make a mess of his bed, so relocation was necessary. He still inquired, “Why?”
Roger pulled him close as they entered the steam—filled shower. Novak almost laughed at the wide variety of Gillette products lining every shelf space in the tiled cavity. His thoughts were interrupted by Roger guiding him to look up, into his eyes. “Well we used the bedside towel last night,” Roger explained simply, he moved closer, so his words fell directly into Novak’s ear, his breath somehow warmer than the steam around them. “And because when I was at home, the only place I could think about you unguardedly was in the shower, and ever since then I’ve wanted to get you into one with me.”
Novak looked a bit stunned, mostly because Roger didn’t usually talk like that. The Swiss man surprised him further by placing Novak’s hand on his cock, indicating for him to resume his actions. Novak happily complied, pushing Roger up against the wall and pumping his hand up and down his erection. Novak licked his way across Roger’s jaw line, catching the water droplets streaming down his face and working his way to Roger’s perfectly parted lips.
Roger’s hand slid down to hold his hip, guiding him gently to the side. Novak was confused until Roger’s right hand wrapped around his cock. Novak lost his breath for a moment. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to having someone else’s hand on his cock, random handjobs from girls at the club weren’t at all unusual, but with Roger it was different. There were no long nails to accidentally scratch him on his most sensitive skin, or jelly-like smooth hands that could never grip tightly enough. Instead, there were big, slightly calloused hands that knew exactly what to do. Yet another thing that is different about doing these things with a guy, better with a guy.
Roger placed wet open mouthed kisses down Novak’s neck until he reached the ultra-sensitive crease of his collarbone. A slight nip was all it took to send Novak over the edge; his tightened grip took Roger over with him. Novak nearly slid down to the ground, his legs suddenly like jelly, but Roger held him close while he leaned on the wall for support. They stood there for a while, catching their breath as the water cascaded over them.
Novak’s glance returned to the shelves of Gillette products. It was amusing. Who actually uses the products they endorse? Mr. Honesty does of course, Novak thought.
“What’s funny?” Roger asked, noticing his quiet chuckle.
“You actually use all this stuff,” Novak said, indicating the line of shampoos, conditioners and body washes. “Five different shampoos?”
Roger laughed too, he knew it was a bit extravagant, but didn’t he have the best hair on the tour? “Might as well, it’s free,” Roger answered simply. Novak was still eyeing him suspiciously, knowing there was another answer. He explained further, “my hair is different in different climates, we travel so much. I use whichever one I need.”
Novak seemed satisfied. “Which one do I need?” Novak asked playfully.
Roger ran his fingers through the Serb’s short locks, and seemed to think about it for a moment before selecting one that smelled minty and rubbing it into his hair. Roger massaged the thick liquid into his scalp gently and Novak felt his eyes close, he didn’t know his head was so sensitive. The gentle fingers were soon replaced by the strong jets of water and once the suds were gone Roger kissed him softly, sweetly and Novak found himself desperate not to leave. But he had an important match in a couple of hours and his team would be looking for him soon. They hurried to get washed when they heard Novak’s alarm going off in the other room. That was the alarm to tell him he needed to leave and he reluctantly obeyed.
Novak pulled on last night’s clothes, hoping not to run into anyone that would notice. He hadn’t thought about the consequences of coming all over his underwear. Novak couldn’t wear dirty underwear, even if the trip was just back to his own room. He stuffed the briefs into his pocket and pulled on his jeans. It wasn’t the most comfortable fabric to have rubbing against his cock, but it would have to do. With one last brief kiss, and mutual wishes of good luck, Novak left.
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Novak had planned to go straight back to his room, but he reasoned that taking a shower at Roger’s place had saved him some time. He was desperate to talk to Ana, even briefly, to at least make lunch plans. There was so much to tell her. He knocked on the door, surprised slightly when Fernando answered the door in only his boxers.
“Oh, uh, hey Fernando,” Novak said awkwardly. He rarely talked to this particular Spaniard off court and seeing him like this made Novak blush. “Is Ana here?” he asked, knowing that she was and hoping he hadn’t interrupted anything.
Novak felt Verdasco’s eyes rake over him in a way that made him feel a bit uncomfortable. He was relieved to hear Ana’s voice. “Is that Nole?” she shouted from inside the room.
“Yes,” Fernando said with his thick Spanish accent. His gaze never left Novak with his tight shirt and form fitting jeans. He knew why Fernando was looking at him like that, he was dressed this way for Roger, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t admire him.
“Nole!” Ana shrieked, pushing through the door and grabbing him. “I haven’t seen you all week!” She guided him down the hall and toward his room, leaving Fernando behind in the doorway. He rolled his eyes and shut the door, going back to bed.
Once in the safety of his room, Novak ignored all Ana’s questions to ask one of his own. “When’s the soonest I can talk to Sven?”
Ana’s eyes got wide, which combined with here pajama pantsuit made her look like a little kid. She knew exactly what he was asking and found herself cheering “yay!” in response.
“Focus,” Novak said, wanting his answer.
“He’ll be with me at Roland Garros, probably a few days before the French starts,” she said, trying to think of her schedule. “I’ll set it up,” Ana said, digging in her pockets for her phone. Novak looked at her strangely, why do pajamas need pockets? She seemed to realize the same, abandoning her search for the phone. “I’ll call him later. Tell me more,” she demanded, sitting on his bed.
“No time, I play Nadal in a couple hours. I’ve got to meet Bobby in,” Novak looked around for a clock. “forty-five minutes. We can meet for a late lunch?” he suggested.
“Fine,” she said, getting up to leave. “Your hair looks shiny,” she said casually, not knowing why that made Novak blush.
“Thanks,” he said, ushering her out the door. “Go back to your boyfriend, I’ll tell you about mine later.” And with that he shut the door, leaving her with her wide excited eyes and a million questions.
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When Enemies Attract