He lifted his head, blowing the hair out of his eyes with a regretful huff. “Why not? The cameras would love that. You could lose in straight sets and no one would talk about anything but your love bites.”
“Our fans, sure, but some people still actually care about the tennis, you know. And we really don’t need to give people more reason to think you’re my big strong top.”
“The unexpected blessing of being three inches taller,” he laughed.
“Two and a half,” I said between kisses, sliding my fingers down his back. “We checked this, remember?”
Miles ground against me, both of us already hard. “Oh, just call it three and let it go, Matteo!”
“Never. It’s two and a half and maybe one day—” I gripped him and rolled, pressing him down onto the bed in my place “—one of our fan fiction writers will get it right and realise that I—” I hitched his legs onto my shoulders and pressed my cock up against him “—am the big strong top.”
He groaned, lifting his arse in encouragement. “Fuck yes, do it.”
“You’ll have to be quiet,” I said, reaching for the bedside drawer. “Or Tina is going to start shouting.”
“You make quiet very difficult, you know,” he complained as I slicked myself up.
I paused, holding my dick mid-stroke. “Are you saying you can’t? We can just go have breakfast instead if you prefer.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Then show me you can do it.” I set the head of my cock against his hole and pushed into him ever so slowly. And Miles bit his lip and held his breath and, though he writhed delightfully, made not a sound.
Once I’d thrust all the way in, I kissed him, soft and adoring. “Good boy,” I whispered against his lips.
And then I fucked him.
TWO HOURS LATER, Tina was waiting when our car pulled up at Roland Garros. “All right,” she said, buzzing with nervous energy as we stepped out. “The court is great and we’re all set up. But uh, there are a few more cameras and rather more people than we expected.”
“What do you mean more cameras?” I asked. “I thought this was just something we’d set up.”
“It is! But I guess word must have gotten out that you’d be here together because—”
“I mean, it’s on the practice court schedule,” Miles said, shouldering his bag with a dismissive swish of his hair.
“—a bunch of the press have turned up and there are quite a lot of fans,” Tina went on, ignoring him. “The tournament director is keeping an eye on things, and has sent two handlers and four security guys.”
I turned a wide-eyed stare at Miles before looking to Tomas and Marcel, who both shrugged. “We’re here to get a feel for the surface and let people see you,” Tomas said.
“Yeah, private courts are for the real work,” Marcel agreed.
“Although,” Jada added, coming around the car with her bag. “If you think I’m not going to get you sweating just because there are cameras, you boys have another thing coming.”
“So long as no one expects us to answer questions,” I said, with a wary glance at Miles. “Press during the tournament is going to be rough enough as it is.”
Because last week it had become public knowledge that Miles had a court date later in the year, part of his parents’ ongoing attempt to take as much of his money as they could get.
“No questions,” Tina assured us with a grimace. “And I’m putting together a statement about the court case in the hope of avoiding questions about it in the press room too. That’s a conversation for later though, come on.”
There were the photographers Tina had hired, there was a gathered clutch of press, and there was the crowd. It was huge – more people than I had ever seen standing around to watch a practice session in my entire life. Even the path to the court was packed like people had come just to catch a glimpse of us.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, but as the first jolt of unexpected panic rippled through me, Miles laced his fingers into mine.
“It’s fine,” he said. “You’ve got this. They’re just here to see us hit balls.”
Full of confidence, he left the security guys to range themselves around us as he led the way through the mass of people, pulling me like a baby duck behind him. And whenever he paused to say hello and smile and agree to photos, he slid his arm protectively around my waist because fuck it, everywhere outside the bedroom he was my big strong top.
I had gotten better at dealing with people asking for autographs and pictures during the last season, but since the Australian Open things had gotten a lot more intense. Now, this was the first grand slam since Miles and I had come out as a couple, and already we couldn’t move for having things shoved at us to sign. Beyond thesecurity guys some people were even screaming, the mass of people shifting around us like a wave.
