Work Text:
Carlos steps into the locker room, though he didn’t necessarily have a reason to. Nonetheless, he knows why he is here.
It’s not to adorn his yellow and green kit, nor to locate his missing armband. No, he’s here for something less functional, nowhere near as advantageous.
He rounds the corner, a flame finding its moth instead of the other way around. And moth, he found. On the bench, lacing his shoes, is Jannik, who turns his head to the sound of someone approaching.
Jannik’s eyes focus, sliding up to him, taking in his appearance. Less than a week ago, he looked at him in the same manner. They both wore suits, posing for cameras, doing a seemingly endless amount of promotion videos. At least, they were with each other for most of the day.
Now only one of them wears the suit.
Only one of them ends the year on top.
“Hey,” Jannik greets, standing to his feet. Carlos stops peeking around the corner and strolls up to him, as he normally would. Their hands clasp in each other, and he watches as the Italian’s eyes flicker around, wondering if there is a camera or person following them.
“Janni,” Carlos says, pulling himself in to Jannik’s arms. Understanding it is just them, Jannik relaxes. Arms wind around Carlos, nosing into the collar of the shirt. He can’t reach the neck, not right now or like this, but it’s good.
“You look good.”
Every time he says that, an unexpected amount of heat works its way to his face. The Spaniard chuckles, hiding half of his face on burgundy fabric before he steps away.
“You too.”
“Yeah?” Jannik looks down at the kit, like he hasn’t seen it for weeks now. “I like the color.”
“Looks good.. on you.”
The taller man hums and returns his gaze to the suit Carlos wears. “No necklace this time?”
“Saving it for when I really want to look good,” jokes Carlos, though the humor of it fades quickly, “This is nothing big.”
Jannik frowns, the light in his eyes dying a bit. “Nothing big?” The question and judgment is evident in the statement, and Carlos takes a step back, feeling his face heat for a completely different reason now. Part of him wishes there was a camera on the two of them right now; at least, then, he wouldn’t be so vulnerable, so ready to break before he puts the mask right back on.
“I really thought you would keep it,” Carlos confesses in one breathless breath, looking down at the bench rather than knowing eyes. “You deserve it, too.”
“Carlos.” It’s pointed, though not as sharp and piercing as he expected it to be. “You earned it.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s not what I am saying.”
It’s quiet for a ten heartbeats. Carlos counts because it gives him something to tether to, something to feel other than conflicted. It’s not about who deserves it more. It’s about knowing the top is for them, and this is one of those times he won’t have Jannik next to him.
“You’ve had an amazing year,” Jannik says, and somehow that mends something; he cannot describe it, but the acknowledgement makes him fight a tremble. “You have no reason to not go out, and not be so happy with yourself. This is your moment. I’m right after.”
“Wish you could watch.” It’s better than I wish you could be there.
Jannik shrug half-heartedly. “Have a match to win. You win the world number one, I win the Finals.”
“Like I’d let you win that easy,” Carlos laughs.
The Italian laughs with him. Not the full laugh of pure unadulterated joy, but something more contained. Like they’re teetering simply by being in each other’s presence, and it either ends in a standstill or a full clash. "
“That’s what I want. I like when you make me work for it, Carlos.”
He doesn’t choke verbally, but something in his brain pinches, his mouth opening then closing. Carlos can never fully get used to the way Jannik can speak to him when he knows no one can overhear. At first, he thought it was a gag - or in the very least, some temporary thing to the start of their.. special relationship. But he was quite wrong. Jannik is upfront, boldly honest in a way that would make a nun blush sometimes.
It certainly makes Carlos blush.
Before Carlos can conjure up a response, he continues. “I think I am more motivated to win when I am chasing you.”
“You said something about hunting me, no?” No point in asking. Carlos remembers reading about it, his body reacting to the memory of dark eyes when they regard him across the net. When they break him down to smithereens as he lays under the Italian.
Jannik doesn’t answer at first, but his hand is outstretched, expecting. Mindlessly, he places his palm in Jannik’s, allowing himself to get tugged back where he belongs. This time, Carlos doesn’t hide his deep inhale as he looks up to Jannik. He smiles, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.
“I am so happy you’re number one. There’s no one else who should be at the top.”
“Except you,” Carlos interrupts, finding the slight correction necessary. Jannik rolls his eyes.
“Except me,” he tacks on, to appease. “But I like the most when it’s us at the end. I like trying to.. dominate you, as I’ve been told.”
“I won the last time, and the time before that.” It’s jesting. The head to head bothers Jannik, he’s aware, but if he knows anything about his rival it’s that it only makes him more determined. His frustration leads the way into his most primal tennis. Not as much thinking. Only the objective.
Jannik lifts his hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. “I’ll figure it out.” It sounds oddly like I’ll figure you out, and Carlos is a bit helpless to that. “You make me work so hard.”
Fuck, he might be panting now.
“It’ll be good then, if you figure it out.”
There’s a flash of teeth, and Carlos attaches to the sight of him licking his lips.
“It will be.” Carlos is still staring at his mouth before he forces his gaze up. Jannik looks amused. “You need something, Carlos?”
He purrs the name, it feels like. It vibrates in his core, and Carlos shakes his head, removing himself from Jannik.
“I need..” But it’s difficult to put into words. Jannik gives him the space to convey his desires as he pleases.
“What do you need?” It’s more insistent now, pressing
His jacket gets undone, and without communicating, begins to fold the item, setting it down somewhere safely.
Without looking at him, focused on his task of not ruining his clothes, he mumbles, “I need you.”
“For what? Carlos, look at me.” And he does, swallowing the restlessness, the anxiety that burrows in his bones. It’s been a while since Jannik has spoken to him like this, since they’ve edged into this territory. Since August. It’s November. “For what?” Jannik repeats himself, steady and unmoving.
“I need you to fuck me.”
Jannik steps forward into him, quiet and calculating. He’s reading him, and he’s letting himself be read. It’s one of the only times when he’ll show Jannik the entire playbook. “I.. I’ll be number one out there, but right now, can I be yours?”
"Finish taking it off,” is the direction. It’s not an answer, but it is one. They flowed into this moment like the construction of a grand point, and there’s no further touching from the taller man.
Exposed. Exposing.
Carlos rushes a bit to remove his clothes, and they stand in a folded pile. Naked, waiting, panting, all for Jannik.
But to his horror, Jannik still does nothing. He rakes his eyes over him like he was water after a fifteen minute game, but the Italian doesn’t move a muscle.
“Not here,” he finally says, nudging his head to the showers, anticipating that Carlos leads the way.
Only then does Jannik finally touch him, a ghost of a hand on his hip, a reminder of what is to come. Carlos tenses, swallowing his dry spit, and keeps walking.
When he gets close enough, the hand tightens and pushes. Luckily, the Spaniard catches himself against the wall.
“Jan-” There’s the sound of Jannik sinking to his knees, kneading his cheeks apart.
“Shh. We don’t have time.”
“But-” The first lick across his hole makes an inhumane sound escape.
“Shh,” Jannik reminds him, then licks over him once more. Carlos’ legs shake, fingers curling against the shower wall like he can grab onto to it for some stability.
He doesn’t ease into eating Carlos out. No; he resembles more of a man who hadn’t eaten in days. Someone starved. Someone who is going to take everything given to him.
All Carlos can do is take, attempting to muffle his whine into his forearm. It must be too loud, since there is a disapproving smack right under the round of his ass. He inhales through his nose sharply, his mouth still wrapped around the skin of his arm, then he sinks into it.
A finger breaches him like nothing, aided by a abundance of saliva and need.
“I won’t have time to properly prepare you,” Jannik tells him, voice raspier, “We have maybe ten minutes.”
“Don’t care,” Carlos gasps, pushing back as the second finger slides in. It burns, but it’s Jannik, so he doesn’t care. “Want to feel you.. when I go out. Want to walk and feel you.”
Jannik curses beneath him and stands, the fingers leaving him.
“Spit,” he says, simultaneously holding his hand out. Hastily, the wads the saliva in his mouth onto Jannik’s hand.
There’s the slick sound of Jannik touching him for a moment before the thick intrusion, the pressure of forcing his way inside.
Carlos breathes deep and takes it. It’s still a tad too dry, but they don’t have the time. Truthfully, he should’ve been meeting with someone at the moment he decided to find Jannik.
He pushes back, desperate for more. A hand shoots out and holds him to the wall, another warning.
“I’m not trying to break you.”
“Break me,” Carlos pleads in a whisper, but he doesn’t push back again. Finally, their hips meet ass. They both exhale like it’s a relief. Only then do they kiss, their necks twisting uncomfortably to make it work. The first thrust is shallow, testing, and Carlos moans in Jannik’s mouth.
The second thrust is deeper, still testing, and by the fourth, all care has gone out of the window. Jannik’s hand clamps around Carlos’ mouth as he fucks him hard and fast.
For those minutes, nothing else mattered. Not ranking. Not who he has to meet. Not the next match. All that mattered was the way Jannik panted against him, still mostly clothed, tearing him apart from the inside out.
“I-” Carlos doesn’t have to finish. A hand is wrapping around his cock, stroking it with a friction that requires nothing but results. His eyes roll, neck craning to the sky as he cums against the shower wall, clenching tight around Jannik.
Jannik pulls out quickly, and paints his ass with his release. Partially, Carlos mourns the idea that he could be inside, filling him. It wouldn’t be a good idea, so perhaps he’ll thank the man later. For now, he whines, disappointed.
“Shh.” Jannik says it again, scooping some of the cum and offering it. Eagerly, he takes the substance, humming as he slowly comes back to reality.
“Was that less than ten?” He asks, pushing off of the wall finally, ignoring the slight shake of his legs. It’ll fix itself later.
“Don’t know.”
Carlos scoffs, then finds a towel to wipe the sweat and cum. Jannik only has to pull his shorts back up, the menace.
Things fall silent once more as Carlos walks back to his clothes, putting the items back on one piece at a time. The Italian simply watches, something close to adoration in his eyes as he watches the process.
“No tie,” Jannik tells him, and he pauses. Smirking, he tosses it at Jannik.
“Put it in your bag.”
“To use for later?” Jannik jokes, but he does unzip a compartment and shove it inside. It shouldn’t feel like an equal level of branding, but it does.
Carlos stands and presents himself, asking for opinion without uttering a word.
“You look good. Always look good.” It still has the same effect as it had earlier.
Instead of saying it, like Carlos did previously, his eyes flicker to the door. “I should go.”
Jannik nods, not saddened or deterred by the fact. “Congratulations again, Carlos.”
“Thank you.”
They don’t bother with a hug goodbye, or even a kiss. It takes Carlos a couple of meters to get used to the ache in his body, the kind that comes less from exertion and more from insertion. But he stops right before rounding the corner once more, smiling. “See you at the final.”
At that, Jannik nods, “See you at the final.”
Then Carlos leaves, satiated, sore, and world number one - though, debatably the most important, Jannik’s.