Official
The restaurant was tucked away in one of Madrid’s older neighborhoods—a dimly lit bistro with clay-tiled floors, mismatched chairs, and wine bottles stacked floor-to-ceiling in dusty wooden racks. The kind of place that felt too intimate for business meetings and too charming for anyone looking to hide. But Andrés wasn’t hiding anymore. Not really.
They sat at a corner table, half-shadowed by a tall plant, their dinners long finished. The waiter had already cleared the plates and poured another glass of Rioja for each of them.
“You sure you don’t mind staying here?” Elias asked, his fingers tapping the base of his wine glass. “It’s… not subtle.”
Andrés glanced around. A couple in their sixties chatted at the next table, too absorbed in their own world to notice them. But he could feel it—eyes here and there. Not everyone was ignoring them.
“I live here,” he said. “Why should I avoid the places I like?”
Elias smirked. “Because people talk?”
“They always talk. Might as well give them something real.”
Elias looked down, then back up at him. “So this is real now?”
Andrés didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached across the table and laid his hand gently over Elias’s.
Not dramatic. Not hidden. Just there.
Elias blinked. “Are you—seriously?
“You don’t want to?” Andrés asked, quiet but steady.
Elias glanced toward the window. There was a flicker of movement outside—someone snapping a photo with their phone, trying to pretend they weren’t. His first instinct was to pull away.
But he didn’t.
He turned his hand over instead, lacing their fingers together.
“I didn’t say that,” he said.
A small smile curved at Andrés’s lips. “Good.”
They sat like that for a few minutes—hand in hand, wine in hand, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. But it did. The buzz of a phone in Andrés’s jacket pocket confirmed it. A friend had already seen the photo. The tennis world moved fast.
“Do you think Rory will see it?” Elias asked suddenly.
Andrés let out a soft laugh, not cruel—just surprised. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know.” Elias shrugged. “Just wondering what he’d think.”
Andrés hesitated. “He’s not my problem anymore.”
Elias looked down at their hands. “And me?”
“You’re sitting across from me, aren’t you?” Andrés said. “You came to Madrid. You’re not hiding either.”
“I’m terrified,” Elias admitted, voice low.
Andrés reached for his wine. “So am I. But I’m also tired of pretending.”
There was a pause. Then:
“You want to come home with me?” Andrés asked, voice light, teasing—but not uncertain.
Elias gave a small, relieved laugh. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
⸻
They barely spoke during the car ride home—just exchanged glances, small touches, a brush of knees in the backseat. The air between them hummed with something bigger than lust now. Something braver.
Back in the condo, Andrés flicked on a lamp. Elias wandered into the kitchen, still holding the bottle of wine the restaurant had let them take.
“I can’t believe we did that,” Elias said, leaning against the counter.
“Held hands?”
“No. Let them see.”
Andrés walked over, took the bottle from his hand, and set it down on the counter behind them. Then, slowly, he stepped close—his body warm, solid, his voice low.
“I don’t care who saw.”
Elias’s breath caught. “You will tomorrow.”
“Maybe.” Andrés smiled. “But not tonight.”
They stood there, chest to chest, the world shrinking down to nothing but skin and breath and the space between two mouths.
And then Elias leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t tentative this time. It was a decision.
Their lips met with a quiet hunger, a pull born not just of attraction but of relief. The weight of pretending lifted, just a little. Andrés’s hands slid to Elias’s waist. Elias’s fingers curled around the back of Andrés’s neck.
The kiss deepened, their bodies fitting in a way that felt rehearsed by instinct. When they finally pulled apart, Elias’s smile was faint but certain.
“So…” he murmured. “We’re doing this?”
Andrés nodded, forehead pressed against his. “Yeah. We are.”
Outside, the city murmured on.
Inside, for once, neither of them looked away.
⸻
The Madrid skyline shimmered behind the glass walls of the rooftop ballroom, the city lit gold and rose under the late summer night. Andrés adjusted the cuff of his navy suit as a photographer snapped a picture of him and Elias standing beneath a giant floral arch that read Fundación Tenis Para Todos.
It was their first official event as a couple.
And though no publicist had drafted a statement, and no glossy magazine had published an exclusive, the message was clear in the way Elias leaned slightly toward him for the photo. In the quiet way Andrés’s hand brushed the small of Elias’s back as they moved through the crowd. In the whispered jokes between speeches and the shared looks when people congratulated them with cautious curiosity.
“You okay?” Elias asked as they stood by the bar, swirling red wine in delicate glasses.
“I’ve been gawked at less during matches,” Andrés muttered, smirking as he clinked his glass to Elias’s.
“You knew this would happen.”
“I know,” Andrés said. “Still weird.”
Elias tilted his head. “Want to go?”
“No,” Andrés said after a beat. “It’s nice, actually… having you here.”
Elias’s expression softened. He wore a dark grey suit with a muted blue shirt that matched his eyes, his blond hair swept back in a way that made him look older, more polished. Confident. He reached out and straightened Andrés’s tie. “Then let them gawk.”
Andrés laughed. “You like the attention.”
“I like you.”
That shut Andrés up for a moment.
They mingled, posed for a few more photos, chatted with sponsors and coaches and former players. But as the night wore on, their attention returned—inevitably—to each other. An arm draped casually around a shoulder. Fingers brushing as they passed a plate. The long, lingering look across a crowded room that said: let’s go.
⸻
Back at Andrés’s condo, the door clicked shut behind them, the quiet settling around them like a sigh of relief.
Elias tossed his suit jacket on a chair while Andrés unbuttoned his shirt halfway and sank into the couch with a sigh. The city sparkled beyond the windows. Madrid never really slept.
“Wine?” Elias asked from the kitchen.
“Only if you’re drinking it with me.”
Elias returned with two glasses, handing one to Andrés before taking the armchair across from him. But after a few moments of silence, Andrés stood again, crossed the room, and slid into the sofa beside him. He turned sideways, knees up on the cushions, facing Elias.
“Tonight was… a lot,” Andrés murmured, sipping his wine.
“Good or bad?”
Andrés shrugged. “Good. Just… new.”
They sat quietly for a few beats.
Then, with a small grin, Andrés lifted one leg and rested his ankle in Elias’s lap. “You’re good with your hands,” he said playfully. “Prove it.”
Elias raised an eyebrow, amused but not surprised. “Bossy tonight, aren’t we?”
“Do something about it.”
With a low chuckle, Elias reached for Andrés’s ankle and gently pulled it toward him. Andrés’s sleek black dress shoe gleamed under the soft light, its leather slightly creased at the toe. Elias’s fingers slid around the back, loosening the laces slowly.
The shoe slipped forward with a small creak, revealing a tightly hugged navy cotton sock. The fabric stretched just slightly over the arch of his foot.
Elias set the first shoe aside, then moved to the other. This time, he made eye contact as he tugged it off—slow, deliberate. The sock underneath was warm from the long night, the cotton soft but slightly damp, carrying the subtle, clean scent of Andrés’s cologne mixed with leather and the faint trace of skin.
Andrés arched an eyebrow. “What’s that look?”
“Just thinking…” Elias said, brushing his thumb along the arch of Andrés’s socked foot, “how much I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”
Andrés let out a low sound, eyes fluttering closed as Elias began to rub slow circles into the sole of his foot.
“Dios,” Andrés muttered. “You’re really good at that.”
Elias smirked, continuing the massage. “Told you.”
They stayed like that for a long while—Elias’s thumbs working into the fabric-covered curves of Andrés’s feet, Andrés slowly sinking deeper into the cushions, his head leaning against the back of the couch, lips parted slightly in something close to bliss.
Finally, Elias looked up. “You’re relaxed.”
Andrés opened one eye. “I trust you.”
That was a bigger statement than either of them had expected.
Elias paused. “I’m glad.”
Another silence passed—comfortable, this time.
Then Andrés leaned forward slightly, wine glass abandoned on the table.
“You’re really not gonna kiss me?” he teased, voice a low murmur.
Elias’s hand stilled on his foot. Then he set it gently down and leaned forward, one knee on the cushion now between them.
“I was waiting for the right moment,” he whispered.
“It’s now.”
Their lips met in a quiet, slow kiss—nothing rushed or hungry, but full of something deeper. Something new. Elias’s hand found Andrés’s jaw. Andrés’s fingers curled into the fabric of Elias’s shirt.
Andrés’ lips parted as Elias deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding together in a wet, hungry rhythm. The wine was forgotten, the glasses abandoned on the table. Elias’s hand slid from Andrés’ jaw down to his chest, fingers slipping under the open collar of his shirt, feeling the coarse hair that dusted his pecs. Andrés groaned into his mouth, low and guttural, his own hands gripping Elias’s shirt like he might tear it off right there.
“Fuck,” Elias whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss for just a second. “You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”
“Always thinking about you,” Andrés growled back, his voice thick with want. He grabbed Elias by the back of the neck and pulled him back in, their teeth clashing as they kissed again, harder this time, messier. Elias’s hands roamed lower, unbuttoning Andrés’ shirt fully, exposing the thick, dark hair that covered his chest and trailed down his stomach.
Andrés didn’t waste time either. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of Elias’s shirt, pulling it open to reveal smooth skin and a lean, athletic build. “You’re fucking perfect,” Andrés muttered, pushing the shirt off Elias’s shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.
Elias smirked, leaning back slightly to let Andrés take him in. “Not so bad yourself, old man.”
Andrés laughed—a rough, breathless sound—before grabbing Elias by the hips and yanking him forward until he straddled his lap. Their bodies pressed together, cocks already hard through their slacks. “Old man?” Andrés teased, grinding up against him. “I’ll show you old.”
Elias moaned, his head tilting back as Andrés’ hands slid down to grip his ass through the fabric of his pants. “Fuck, yeah, show me.”
Andrés didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned forward, biting at Elias’s neck, sucking a bruise into the soft skin just above his collarbone. Elias gasped, his hands tangling in Andrés’ hair, pulling him closer. “God, your mustache…” Elias breathed, shivering as the coarse hair tickled his skin. “Feels so fucking good.”
“Yeah?” Andrés murmured against his neck, sliding one hand up Elias’s thigh to palm his cock through his slacks. “What else feels good?”
Elias’s hips jerked forward with a choked groan. “Your fucking hands… your mouth… fuck, just you.”
“Good answer,” Andrés said, pulling back to look at him. His eyes were dark, hungry, and he didn’t wait another second before standing up, lifting Elias with him in one smooth motion. “Bedroom. Now.”
Elias wrapped his legs around Andrés’ waist, grinning as he was carried down the hallway. “You’re stronger than you look.”
“Shut up,” Andrés muttered, kicking the bedroom door open and tossing Elias onto the bed. He followed him down, pinning him with his weight, his mustache brushing against Elias’s cheek as he kissed him again.
But then Elias pushed him back slightly, smirking. “Wait.”
Andrés raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Your feet,” Elias said, sitting up and reaching for Andrés’ ankle. “You didn’t let me finish earlier.”
Andrés let out a breathy laugh but didn’t stop him as Elias grabbed his ankle, Andrés’ blue dress sock still clinging to his foot. The fabric stretched taut over the curve of his arch, revealing every muscle of foot under the stretchy cloth. Elias brought it to his face, inhaling deeply through the fabric. “Fuck… still smells like leather and… you.”
The heat of Elias’s breath seeped through the sock, warming Andrés’s skin as Elias pressed his nose into the arch, savoring the faint musk lingering underneath. “Can’t get enough of you,” Elias murmured, his voice husky with need. His fingers traced the edge of the sock, teasing the skin just above where it ended.
Andrés groaned, his cock twitching in his slacks as he watched Elias worship his socked foot like it was something sacred. “You’re fucking obsessed,” he said, but his voice was strained, like he was fighting the urge to shove Elias down and take him right then and there. Elias looked up, his lips brushing against the fabric as he smirked. “You love it.”
Andrés didn’t argue. He just gripped Elias by the shoulders and flipped him onto his back, their socks still clinging to their feet as the heat between them burned hotter than ever.
He yanked Elias’s slacks and boxers down in one swift motion, leaving him naked with just his patterned dress socks on.
Elias hesitated for just a second before obeying, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up onto his knees. Andrés slapped his ass—hard—before spreading him open and leaning down to press a hot, wet kiss to his hole.
“Fuck!” Elias gasped, his hands gripping the sheets as Andrés’ tongue teased him, circling his rim before pushing inside. The sensation was electric, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine. “Oh my god… fuck… yes…”
Andrés held him steady, eating him out with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. He could feel Elias trembling under him, hear the soft, desperate noises spilling from his lips. “You taste fucking amazing,” Andrés muttered against his skin, lapping at him hungrily.
Elias was practically shaking now, his cock leaking precum onto the sheets. “Please…” he begged, his voice cracked and raw. “I need your fucking cock… please.”
Andrés pulled back just enough to unbuckle his belt and shove his own slacks down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, pre-cum glistening at the tip. He spat into his hand and stroked himself a few times before lining up with Elias’s hole.
“You ready?” Andrés asked, his voice rough.
“Fuck yes,” Elias panted, pushing his hips back eagerly.
Andrés didn’t wait any longer. He gripped Elias’s hips and pushed forward in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a deep groan. Elias cried out, his back arching as he was filled completely. “Fuck! So fucking big…”
“You can take it,” Andrés growled, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. He set a brutal pace from the start, each thrust driving Elias forward until his face was pressed into the mattress. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mingling with their ragged breathing and low moans.
Elias reached back blindly, grabbing Andrés’ thigh. “Fuck me harder… please…”
Andrés obliged, driving into him with even more force. His balls slapped against Elias’s ass with every thrust, the wet slap slap slap of their fucking echoing in the room. “You feel so fucking tight,” Andrés grunted, leaning over to bite at Elias’s shoulder. “Like you were made for my cock.”
“I was,” Elias gasped, pushing back against him desperately. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum…”
Andrés reached around to stroke Elias’s cock in time with his thrusts, squeezing the base lightly to keep him on edge. “Not yet,” he growled in his ear. “You’re gonna wait for me.”
Elias whimpered but didn’t argue, too lost in the sensation to do anything but obey. Andrés kept fucking him hard and fast, chasing his own release with single-minded focus. Finally, he couldn’t hold back anymore. “Fuck… I’m close…”
“Me too,” Elias panted. “Let me cum… please…”
Andrés let go of Elias’s cock and grabbed his hips instead, slamming into him one last time before pulling out and flipping him onto his back. He stroked himself furiously as Elias stared up at him with wide eyes.
“Open your mouth,” Andrés demanded, his voice harsh.
Elias obeyed instantly, sticking out his tongue like a fucking slut as Andrés came all over his face in thick, sticky ropes. Splurt splurt splurt—the sound was obscene as cum painted Elias’s lips and cheeks.
Elias moaned, his tongue darting out to catch the last drops of Andrés’ cum dripping from his cock. The taste was salty and slightly bitter, but it sent a shiver of pleasure through him. Andrés pulled his cock away, leaving Elias panting and desperate for more.
“Open wider,” Andrés growled, his voice rough with arousal. Elias obeyed instantly, his lips parting as Andrés leaned down, his thick chest hair brushing against Elias’s torso. Andrés aimed his cock again, letting another rope of cum spurt out, this time directly into Elias’s waiting mouth.
Splurt splurt splurt—the sound was obscene, and Elias moaned around the warm, sticky load, his tongue swirling to savor every drop.
“Fuck, you’re such a greedy little slut,” Andrés muttered, his hand gripping Elias’s hair as he watched him swallow every last drop.
Elias gazed up at him with glassy eyes, his lips glistening with cum, and Andrés couldn’t resist leaning down to capture them in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues tangled, the taste of Andrés’ cum mixing between their mouths as Elias moaned into the kiss.
“Your fucking cum tastes so good,” Elias murmured against his lips, his hands roaming over Andrés’ hairy chest, feeling the coarse strands beneath his fingertips. “I could eat it all day.”
Andrés chuckled darkly, his fingers brushing over Elias’s cum-streaked cheek. “You’re fucking insatiable. But don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more for you.” He leaned down again, his mustache tickling Elias’s skin as he kissed a trail down to his neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive flesh. Elias arched into the touch, his cock twitching against Andrés’ thigh.
“Do it again,” Elias begged, his voice trembling with need. “Fill my mouth again.” Andrés groaned, his cock already hardening once more. He couldn’t resist the desperate plea in Elias’s voice.
“Turn over,” Andrés commanded, his voice low and commanding.
Elias obeyed instantly, rolling onto his stomach and pushing his ass back eagerly.
Andrés lined up behind him, his cock throbbing as he pressed against Elias’s entrance. “You’re gonna take every fucking drop,” he growled, thrusting into him with a sharp, brutal stroke.
Elias cried out, his voice muffled into the mattress as Andrés fucked him hard and fast, his hips slamming against Elias’s ass with undeniable force. The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and the wet slap of skin against skin, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.
“Cum in my mouth again,” Elias gasped, his voice breaking with need. Andrés growled, pulling out and flipping him over once more, his cock throbbing as he aimed it at Elias’s face. With a final groan, Andrés came again, thick ropes of cum splattering across Elias’s lips and cheeks. Elias moaned, his tongue darting out to catch every drop, savoring the taste of Andrés’ release.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Andrés muttered, leaning down to capture Elias’s lips in another messy, cum-filled kiss. Elias moaned into it, his hands gripping Andrés’ shoulders as they kissed deeply, their bodies trembling with the aftermath of their shared pleasure. The taste of Andrés’ cum lingered between them, a reminder of the wild, unbridled passion they had shared.
Andrés broke the kiss, his forehead resting against Elias’s as they breathed heavily, their bodies pressed together in the afterglow.
“You’re fucking amazing,” Elias murmured, his voice soft and filled with awe.
Andrés smirked, his fingers brushing over Elias’s cum-streaked cheek.
“And you’re fucking mine.” Elias smiled, his lips still sticky with cum, and pulled Andrés down for another kiss, their bodies entwined in the heat of the moment.
