June 2023 – World Youth Junior Championships.
“Just do your best, si? You got this, Javi, I believe in you!”
Javi tried to smile at his coach, as well as his father sitting next to him as he prepared to face the dude from England in the semi final of the World Under 20 Tennis Championships which, thank God, was held right here in his home town of Madrid.
He was terrified enough, not even to mention what would have been if he was to travel overseas to feature in this competition, but since tennis had been his life since he could remember, playing with his father Jorge countless times as a little boy, this was the very first time he was able to show what he could do on a global stage.
He had surprised himself by making it this far, even as he was dubbed as the local favourite, being Spanish and of course, being from Madrid itself, and he took a deep breath, as he eyed up the dude he was now going to take on for a place in that lucrative final.
How badly he wanted to lift that trophy in front of all these people coming just to support him…
“Hare lo mejor que peuda, gracias,” he said, with what he hoped was with conviction before he stuttered his stuff out on the court, where the match would take place. He of course, received a hero’s reception, being the local kid playing, and that egged Javi on even more.
He could do this.
He could beat this dude from England and make it all the way to the final and even win that game too.
All he needed to do was believe.
Two hours later, the stadium erupted as Javi Garcia emphatically defeated his opponent in three solid sets, without dropping a single one, as friends, family as well as media alike was starting to realise that this kid wasn’t just some home town boy who had gotten lucky that this was happening in his home town.
No, Javi Garcia could actually play some decent tennis, with some Spanish outlets started to talk about him as the next Carlos Alcaraz in the making. Javi, and even his coach to be honest, would not go that far just yet, but it was nice to read all the nice comments on social media and beyond.
“Who won the other game, Papi? I didn’t wanna go online before the game,” he asked Jorge after he was finished with his post game shower and had wrapped up all the interviews that he possibly could. He was starting to feel like he was going to go blind soon, what with all the cameras that had been flashing at him much like the incessant thunder in the Spanish capital.
Jorge smirked at his eighteen-year-old son, and reached out to ruffle his hair.
“Who do you think? Who did we prepare for all these months?” his father asked, raising his right eye knowingly, as he always did.
Javi sighed and swallowed.
Yeah, he thought so.
He knew the reigning World Under 20 number one would make it to the final and that he would in all probability be facing him, should he have gotten there, which he now did.
“Dios mio, Papi. I don’t know if I can win against him. He’s so good…” he whispered, and turned his back to grab his phone.
He quickly did a Google search at his opponent, that he knew so God damn well by now.
Rowan Messer.
So good at the tender age of just eighteen that he was already dubbed the next Andy Roddick. And God knows, America needed some good news in the Tennis arena, because honestly, no one since the Williams sisters had stood up and made the country proud in years, when it came to the sport.
Javi grimaced as his bright, brown eyes flickered over the past few results of the game that the guy had played.
Rowan Messer was unbeaten in his last nineteen games that he has professionally played and not in one of them, did he as much as drop one set. Jesus Christ.
“Javi, don’t be scared, okay? You have already done so much just to get to this point. I sometimes wish this tournament was held anyone else but in Madrid, because I know people are saying shit about yeah…he’s only in the final because he’s the local kid, but if you beat this boy…Mijo, you have a chance to make history here, no? Believe in yourself!”
His dad was probably right, but in that moment, Javi didn’t think he could even be in the same league as Rowan Messer.
Looking at the dude’s numerous photos’ online, with his golden blond hair and bright blue eyes, all the signs were there that the American kid LIVED for tennis, and the breathed for the sport in all its glory. He deserved the accolades that was thrown at him right now.
Javi was very much seen as the underdog, and he knew that. He also knew that the Spanish crowd would do just about anything in their power to make Rowan Messer feel like an outsider, because that was just how things were. If this was held in the States, the roles would be reversed. Even more so.
After a good night’s rest, Javi woke up energized and fresh, and his eighteen-year-old self was more than ready for the game. Everyone that mattered didn’t seem to give him a chance in hell at breaking Rowan Messer’s unbeaten record, but he sure as hell was going to give him the fight of his life. He was a good tennis player. He was better than good, he knew his own worth.
“VAMOS!” he whispered to himself the start of the Final was a mere ten minutes away, psyching himself up for the challenge that laid ahead. Running his sweaty fingers nervously through his jet-black hair, he turned around, only for him to see Rowan Messer and this army of team members make their way through the tunnel where the meeting of the two finalists would take place.
Javi didn’t understand much English, only a few words here and there from watching TV shows on Netflix and so on, but he knew enough of the kid’s body language to know that Messer was clearly thinking this final was a mere formality and a total waste of time.
He had never seen Messer up close, but he was way taller than him. Nearly a head or so. To him, it was just another sign at how out of his depth Javi Garcia really was.
“Is that him? I recognise him from some of the games?” he heard Rowan Messer say in his classic American accent, before he turned swiftly around, completely and utter making out as if he was totally oblivious at what his opponent had just said.
He felt a rough tap on his shoulder and closed his eyes, forced to turn around and face the boy.
“You’re Javi Garcia, right?” he was asked, and Javi felt a twinge inside his chest as he stared up into the eyes of the one and only Rowan Messer.
Was it fear, or something else?
Javi’s eyes fell over the facial features of the eighteen-year-old kid before him…the signature wavy blond hair…the bright, crystal-like blue eyes…the smile that he had seen countless times on TV and social media. His arms were nicely muscled for a kid of his tender years; his skin had a healthy sprout of fine hairs growing out his legs down there too.
His white t-shirt was hanging from his shoulders cooly and calmly, as it seem that he wasn’t stressed about this final game whatsoever.
Javi swallowed.
Not for the first time, he willed himself not to have thoughts like the ones he always had when he was looking at photos of Rowan Messer, going through his head.
His heart was beating so fast, and it literally had nothing to do with tennis.
Being face to face with Rowan Messer was…at eighteen, he didn’t quite have the words. As much as he wanted to BEAT this kid in the final that was literally five minutes away from starting, he couldn’t have but respect him for his achievements. As a Latino kid, he was so proud…was that even the right word…but yeah…mad proud to even BE in the same AIR as Messer.
He wanted Rowan Messer to like him. He wanted to impress him. He admired him so much…looked up to him, if you would.
Most importantly, he wanted Rowan Messer to like and respect him too.
He had no idea why he felt that way.
Not yet.
Javi cleared his throat, and stuck out his hand to Messer, smiling up at the boy as best that he could.
“Hey, I’m Javi Garcia, yes. I’m your opponent in the Final today. It’s really nice to finally meet you,” he said in the most broken English that he had ever heard himself speak.
Lord knows he had practised what he could say to Messer if he ever met him face to face, and here it was…and his nerves had totally gotten the better of him.
The kid was intimidating as fuck, and not just because he was about to face him in a Final.
Rowan Messer smirked at Javi, because he nodded and stuck out his own hand and shook Javi’s…
…when for some or other morbid reason, his handsome facial features suddeny and quickly turned nasty as fuck, his eyes narrowing and his mouth opening up with some horrific notion that must have swept through him.
“OH MY GOD, WHY ARE YOUR HANDS SO FUCKING SWEATY? DAMN, SOMEONE GIVE ME A WET WIPE OR SOME SHIT! THIS DUDE IS NASTY!” he thundered out loud for all the world to fucking hear, before he ripped his hand from Javi’s and shot him a death glare, all the while keeping said hand outstretched, far away from him, like it was about to spit venom at him.
Javi wanted to have the earth open up and swallow him whole. He looked down at his right hand, as if he was expecting to see some flesh-eating disease spreading out of his palm, but of course there was nothing. But the way that Rowan Messer was carrying on, you would swear he had just given the kid Covid or something.
“What are you even nervous for? Its not like you stand a fucking chance against me!” came more humiliation from the boy wonder, only a few feet away from him.
“Javi? Pasa algo?” his coach asked as he finally joined him but Javi just shook his head, his eyes never leaving those of Rowan Messer.
“De nada. Voy a matarlo!” he whispered angrily, before he grabbed his tennis racket and continued to stare out in front of him.
The Spanish crowd was more than a little loud as the two finalists were announced, especially as Javi emerged from the tunnel the home town favourite.
The Final wasn’t even two hours long.
Rowan Messer had completely and utterly obliterated Javi Garcia to retain his title as the World Under 20 junior tennis champion.
“Javi…Javi, listen to me!” his father tried to say when they finally got home and saw that Javi had taken his silver medal off and threw it angrily against the wall of their modest apartment.
“JAVI!” Jorge shouted, but the boy was relentless.
“You know what he said to me before the game? You weren’t even there, you didn’t hear what he said! I introduced myself like an idiot and my hands were sweaty and I totally forgot about it and he acted like I had aids or something! It was cruel and it was nasty and I wanted to BEAT HIS ASS! MIERDA!”
Javi sat down on the couch in front of the TV and held his head in his hands. His boyish chest was heaving up and down at a furious pace, he couldn’t remember a time that he had been so angry.
Perhaps at God, or whoever was up there, when his mother had died a year ago.
He wanted to win for her too. There was that, too.
And Rowan Messer with his fabulous tennis skills and his awesome backhand and his fucking GOOD LOOKS had taken all of that, and PISSED all over it, like it was nothing!
“Next time, he better be ready. Because the next time that we face each other, I’m gonna defeat him. I’m gonna humiliate him, like he did me! Lo juro!” he hissed, before the tears started falling.
**
December 2023 – ITF Junior Tour
“Another earth-shattering win for Rowan Messer! How about that, what must his fellow competitors be thinking right now? He is unbeatable! In a few years, he might even be world number one, better than Sinner or Alcaraz…”
Javi grabbed the remote and switched the TV off, eliciting a sharp outcry from his cousin Lucia, as she sat up and gave him one of her signature death stares in the process.
“Estas loco? I was watching that!” she shrieked, before Javi smirked and threw the remote to the side.
“Lo siento, Prima…I just can’t look at that fucker’s face for one second longer. Just hearing his name, I wanna rip him apart!”
Lucia sighed and slumped backwards on the couch in the hotel room that they were sharing. Known for her crush on Rowan Messer, because it was literally all that Lucia talked about these days, Jorge had reluctantly agreed that she could come with them to Los Angeles, where the ITP Youth tournament was taking place. It had cost an arm and a leg, but knowing what it would mean to Javi to have his cousin there, Jorge and Lucia’s dad went the extra mile and managed to procure a loan to have her join them.
What Javi didn’t bargain on, was that all Lucia wanted to do, is perve and crash out on Rowan Messer. The one boy that he hated beyond belief, with a passion that rivalled his love for tennis sometimes.
“Can you introduce us? I’m sure if he sees all of this…” Lucia said with a seductive smile, before Javi faked a laugh.
“Prima! He has a girlfriend! You do know that right?” he stated, his eyes firmly on his racket, ready for his own semi final game later on today, against some kid from Switzerland.
Lucia sat forward, her eyes sparking as she did so.
“I have this theory, that once he lays eyes on me, he’ll dump that petrol pump that he’s clearly fucking right now and of course you know what they say…if you ever have a taste of quesadilla, you can never go back to white meat.”
Javi giggled and reached for the remote, and turned the TV back on, only to catch the last bit of the interview that was currently being held with Messer. His eyes perked up as he heard the journalist say his name loud and clear.
“So, you’re in a final, again, I mean what else is new at this point right? And the clear favourite to be your opponent is of course Javi Garcia. Since losing to you earlier in the year, he hasn’t come close to losing any matches, you think it will be more of a challenge that when you faced each other in July?”
Lucia cleared her throat and nervously looked over at Javi, her cousin waiting with bated breath to hear what Rowan Messer was about to answer.
The eighteen-year-old blond boy smiled at the camera, and suddenly his eyes diverted straight to Javi’s very core, it felt. It was as if those beautiful blue eyes were trying to stare right in his soul. As if Messer knew that Javi would be watching this, somehow.
“All I can say about Javi Garcia is, the last time I faced him, I beat his ass in an hour, thirty minutes. If he wins his semi final, I’ll beat him in an hour, this time. Love you all, LA!” he shouted as he finished his sentence, clearly lapping up all the press and media wanting to blow any further more smoke up his already arrogant little ass.
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Javi thundered as he angrily stood up and reached for his racket, determined to somehow, wipe the smirk of that idiot’s face, only to be confronted by Lucia, putting both of her hands on his already tense shoulders.
“Primo, don’t let him get to you! Don’t you see that’s what he wants! He wanted you to see that! But ay, dios mio, does he have to be so fucking handsome…?”
Javi rolled his eyes, slowly but surely calming down.
“Prima, you’re twenty, he’s eighteen. Firstly, GROSS…and secondly, you really wanna date that? He’s so full of himself, he’ll probably take a girl to a five-star restaurant just because he CAN! Dios mio, I HATE THAT GUY!” he hissed, his jet-black hair falling over his forehead as he did so.
Later that afternoon, Javi did what he was supposed to, he defeated the kid from Switzerland, to officially be in the ITP Junior Final where he would face Rowan Messer as a repeat of the World Junior Championship finals.
Himself and Lucia went for a swim in the hotel’s private pool that had been exclusively promised to all the participants of the event, before both agreed that they were hungry as shit. Lucia immediately ran to the nearest MacDonalds they could find, but of course with his strict diet and training, Javi knew that was off the table for him.
He spotted a Subway a couple of stores away and immediately headed for that. His taste buds lit up as he ordered a grilled chicken breast on flatbread, with no condiments included. Of course, with him not being as known to a wider range of American fans, he wasn’t recognised by anyone, and he sighed with relief, as he waited for his order, taking out his phone and messaging Lucia and telling her where he was.
“Hey, look who it is!”
Javi looked up, straight into the eyes of Rowan Messer, who had just entered the store and clearly knew who he was, as himself and three of his buddies walked over to his table. Javi sighed and looked hopefully over to the counter to see if his order wasn’t ready yet so that he could get the fuck outta here, but no luck.
“Hola, Messer. Como estas?” he decided to address the boy in his home language, hoping to God that Messer wouldn’t understand what he was saying and would hopefully leave him the hell alone.
Rowan smirked at Javi before shaking his head.
“My dad makes me learn French, Italian and Spanish, my dude. If you’re hoping to catch me out, you’re gonna have to do better than that! Looking forward to our game tomorrow. I can take like, fifteen minutes out of my day to beat your ass,” he said gleefully, his posse behind him nearly breaking themselves in solid laughter.
Javi crossed his arms. He was sick and tired of this.
Of him.
Of Rowan Fucking Messer.
“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” he asked, his near perfect English much better than the last time they had spoken.
See, Javi had gone out of his way to make sure that he was better prepared, for when he would be face to face with Messer again. He was determined that what happened in July, would never happen again, if he could help it.
Rowan’s eyes lit up just a tad, clearly impressed by the level of Javi’s linguistics, before he too, crossed his arms as a way of sizing up his so-called competition.
“Someone has been hitting Google translate, I see! Look here, buddy…why don’t you just forfeit the game, yeah? It’s gonna save you so much humiliation, because there is no way in hell you can ever beat me.”
Javi nearly choked on his own saliva.
“Si…that’s what you want yes? You want me to quit and not play and you win by default, yes?”
Rowan giggled, like only a eighteen-year-old confidant teenage boy could.
“I wouldn’t say that, I would beat you anyway, but I thought I’d make the offer. I was serious, what I said to that journalist. I’m gonna crush you tomorrow, Hermano!”
Javi’s order was finally called and he closed his eyes and begged for God to calm him down so that he didn’t attack Messer outright for everyone to see. They were on American territory now…do that, and his entire career would be over before it even got started.
For all he knew, that was exactly what Messer wants.
“See you tomorrow. You better be ready,” was all that Javi said before he walked up the counter to collect his order.
“You better be ready…” came the mock reply from Rowan Messer, with the incessant laughter from his army of skanks following Javi out of the store.
He swore to God. He would not only beat Rowan tomorrow.
He was going to fucking annihilate him.
**
He lost, again.
Not as badly as he did way back in July, but still.
A loss, was a loss.
Why couldn’t he beat him? WHY?
“You can have some pizza tonight, Mijo. You have plenty of time to work it off before nationals start in the new year,” Jorge said as he placed the steaming boxes of pizza goodness onto the table before them, before handing out plates to both Javi and to Lucia.
Javi grabbed a slice and nearly devour the whole thing in one take.
“Ay Primo! What the hell are you doing, you wanna choke to death? Dios mio…” Lucia said shocked, as anything, before Javi sunk to his chair, and grabbed another slice.
“What is the actual point? I’ll never be able to defeat that fucker, so why can’t I be like other young guys and just eat an entire pizza by myself?” he hissed, before his father gently slapped his son’s shoulder in sheer morbid anger.
“Que? Que pasa? What, are you just gonna give up? Are you going to let him beat you every time? Right now, Messer is better than you, si? Okay, we give him that, he’s the best in the world right now in your age. But next year, you never know, Mijo! Work hard, play hard and you might beat him one of these days! Nothing is impossible!”
“Yeah right…” Javi mumbled, before stuffing another slice of pizza down his throat.
“Oh…I wouldn’t go on social media if I was you right now, Primo…” Lucia said slowly, before Javi frowned and viciously grabbed her own phone from her.
“Ay, idiota!” came the furious taunt from his cousin, but Javi couldn’t care lesss.
He stared at the app that Lucia had been browsing like he was watching a film of noir. In all the frustration that he had endured of losing to Rowan fucking Messer for a second time, he didn’t think to check his own social media.
Both of their names were now trending on Tiktok.
And all because Messer had posted a video on there, in which he says he did offer Javi to forfeit the game, but that Javi thought he could beat him…and taking the offer might have been less painful.
The comments…there was some calling Messer out for the arrogant little shit that he was, but majority was siding with him, laughing at Javi Garcia, for thinking for “one minute” that he could have played with the big boys and how he even DARED to think he could defeat the unbeatable Rowan Messer.
“Puta madre…” Javi whispered thought gritted teeth as he furiously gave Lucia back her phone.
**
September 2024 – Grand Slam Junior Tournament
“Last question, Javi…with your biggest competitor and biggest rival, Rowan Messer dating popular Disney actress Lorraine Jennings, don’t you feel the need to get into the dating scene as yet? You are both nineteen-year-old boys now, surely there is some girl…or boy that you like?”
DIOS…MIO!
Javi nearly stuttered as he tried his best to answer the question, but the words just didn’t wanna come. How could be possibly…maybe, if this total bitch of a woman didn’t mention the possibility of him wanting a relationship with a BOY…
Sure, he was media trained by now, but he had no idea as to what to fucking answer!
Luckily, Jorge stepped in just in time, before the silence became more awkward than it already was.
“Look, my boy has just recently broken up with his girlfriend that had since last year and with the anniversary of his mother’s death coming up, I’m sure you can understand that Javi here, is just focussed on his career and being a teenage boy for now. All the best to Rowan Messer for having found someone he liked, but no two boys are the same, right? Thanks, that is all questions for now!”
“Gracias, Papi…” Javi muttered as they entered the hotel room they were staying in. Having already made the final for this tournament and knowing that AGAIN, he’s gonna have to face Rowan Messer in yet another final, was already working on his nerves.
Over the course of the year, as both himself and Messer had gotten more and more known in the world of tennis, the media and fans alike had been trying their best to play the two off against each other, it seemed. When it came to light that Javi Garcia had promoted his father Jorge to his manager, the press HOUNDED Messer over if he would eventually do the same.
When Messer started dating Lorraine Jennings, all that Javi was questioned about these days, was when he would to show his own girlfriend off to the world, all because Messer had one.
He cracked up a few weeks ago, when Lucia pointed out that since Javi had developed a huge pimple on his cheek, whether or not the press would question Messer if he would get one too.
In the burning heat of Australia, both the first time that either Messer or Javi had been here, this was all everyone was talking about right now. The headline on nearly every paper around the country.
Would Javi Garcia finally beat his arch rival Rowan Messer? Or would Messer reign supreme once more?
“Talk to me, Primo. Que pasa?” Lucia asked as he joined Javi at the pool of the hotel, with Javi taking time to simply float around in the cool water. He didn’t know if it was always this intense heat in Australia, but he honestly didn’t have energy for doing anything else.
“I’m thinking on what I can do to perfect my game to win tomorrow,” he replied, closing his eyes and waving his arms around in the water.
Lucia cleared her throat and sighed.
“Primo, don’t get angry, por favor, but in both games, you have played against Messer, you didn’t even win a single set, never mind the entire game. I dunno what the fuck he does in his training, but he has been unbeatable for nearly two years now, since he went pro. Entender? I don’t wanna hurt you, but…”
Javi nodded and dunked his head under the water, before coming up for air, streams of liquid streaming across his handsome Latino features.
“I know, okay? Lo se!” he replied before he got out of the pool, and sat down besides his cousin.
Sometimes he really wanted to tell Lucia how he really felt about Rowan Messer.
Sometimes he really wanted to just…drop the mask that he had been wearing for what felt like years and just…tell her.
He hated Messer. He couldn’t STAND him and he HATED that he always, ALWAYS beat him and that he always got his way and that he ALWAYS looked so good in interviews and how he always just wanted to rip off that sweaty t-shirt Messer wore after winning games and how much he wanted to ran his fingers through Messer’s sweaty blond hair, that was always mattered to his face after beating his opponents.
He sighed.
He was gay.
He might as well admit it to himself.
It has been a long time coming, but he always knew he was different. Now, more than ever. Now that he was nineteen years of age, nearly twenty, it has gotten worse. He was taken back to the question that dumb journalist asked earlier that afternoon.
“Girl…or boy”
Yes…there was a boy that couldn’t get out of his mind. For years now.
A boy that he was probably, statistically supposed to hate with all his guys, and honestly, most of the time, he really did.
He hated…he DESPISED what a good life Messer seemed to have. With his perfect family, and his good looks, and his pretty as fuck Disney girlfriend and all the money he had to have from winning every junior tournament that he entered.
But most of all, he couldn’t stand the way that Messer made him feel.
He knew the game was up, and he knew what it meant, the moment that he saw Messer in that God awful swimming trunks brand that he was hired to model for at the beginning of the year. He had always known that Rowan Messer had…a certain effect on him, that went way more than just competitiveness, but he didn’t wanna admit it to himself.
Seeing the boy in swim wear, was more than a deal clincher. Thank God he had been home alone when the advert was shown. He swore, he had never gotten has hard, as quick, as he did that morning. God knows he tried to fight it, but when he jacked off at night, there was only one name…one face…one smile that managed to get him over the brink.
Rowan Fucking Messer.
He wanted to tell Lucia so bad, but he couldn’t. Not yet.
**
“HE’S DONE IT AGAIN! Is there anyone out there who can beat this kid? Rowan Messer makes it nearly three years unbeaten as yet again, he is the one player that young Javi Garcia just cannot seem to defeat!”
“Why are they even making out like its some kind of miracle that he won? We all knew he would!’ Javi shouted angrily before he dove into the hotel pool all on his own, knowing they had to make up time for the plane to board back home from Australia.
News about yet another win for Messer over Javi Garcia was being broadcasted on literally every sports channel in this hotel and wouldn’t you know…there were three…THREE TV’s around the swimming pool as well. This day honestly, couldn’t get any worse.
If he never set foot here again, it would way too soon. It was a smouldering thirty-eight degrees in Melbourne and he had just about enough of this madness. It wasn’t like Madrid was cool most of the time, but thirty-eight degrees? Get the fuck outta here!
The water felt like cleansing his soul. He stayed down as long as he could, before he came up for air…
…and looked straight into the eye of a shirtless Rowan Messer in a speedo.
“Dios mio…” he whispered underneath his breath, knowing that Messer couldn’t possibly know what he had said when he was all the way at the end of the pool, before he rolled his eyes.
What the hell was he even doing here? Shouldn’t he be celebrating with his hot girlfriend instead of parading around here semi naked?
Fuck…fucking hell.
Rowan looked even better shirtless in person, than he did on TV. His lanky frame combined with his classic tennis player’s body and sixpack abs was an insane level for an almost twenty-year-old kid. He had to train like crazy to earn his unbeatable reign of terror and it clearly showed.
They were all alone…the pool especially and exclusively reserved for the junior tennis participants.
“Yo Javi! Como estas?” Messer shouted, before dropping his towel and diving into the cold water as he did so.
I gotta get the hell outta here…was the first thing that Javi was realising as his teenage cock was seriously starting to chub up at the mere notion of being this close…this level of naked…all alone in a pool with Rowan Messer.
“Seriously, tennis, fluent Spanish and he can swim that fast? Puta madre…” he whispered to himself as Messer made a beeline for him, coming up for air just before he reached Javi.
“Good game, right?” he taunted the latter, his eyes fucking sparkling as they always did.
Javi snorted.
“For you, yes,” he muttered.
“Now, don’t be jealous!”
“I am not jealous! Why are you even here? Don’t you have a girlfriend to hang out with?”
Rowan grimaced.
“Your English is fantastic, mi amigo! I see there’s no need for Google Translate anymore.”
“Fuck you.”
“Whatever. No, Lorraine didn’t come with me, she had stuff to film for the Disney show that she’s working on. And you? Do you have a girlfriend too somewhere or did your hot cousin come with you again?”
Ouch, that hurt. More than he would care to admit.
“Lucia is here, yes. And no, I don’t have a girlfriend. I want to focus on beating your ass before that happens,” Javi said, staring straight into Rowan’s eyes as he did so.
Rowan giggled and playfully splashed Javi with a glob of water. Sometimes the media tended to forget that these boys were still, nothing more, than teenage boys at heart.
“Yeah, that’s not happening, amigo. You can’t beat me, spoiler alert…I’m literally unbeatable!” he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the entire pool area.
Javi wiped the excess water out of his eyes.
“Yeah, well you better make sure you stay unbeaten because I want to be the one to beats you. You understand me?” he hissed back at his rival.
Rowan reached upwards and ran his hand through his wet blond hair…and Javi’s chest tightened at the image. His biceps were strong and muscled, like a tennis player’s should be. His chest was ripped from all the training the boy had to be doing. Javi himself was no slouch when it came to muscle…God knows he had trained like mad man over the course of the year in hope to finally defeat Messer…
…but Messer was just on another level.
Messer was…handsome. God, he was so beautiful.
Javi hated to admit it. But he would have to be blind not to see it.
Rowan’s eyes lit up as he smirked back at Javi.
“Let’s make a deal, yeah? Call it a dare, if you want to.”
Javi frowned.
“What sort of dare?” he replied.
Messer laughed and manoeuvred his way onto his back, floating in the water, looking upwards at the ceiling, the afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows of the arena.
“You say you wanna beat me, right?”
“Of course. Every kid our age wants to.”
“Right. And I say you can’t. Not just you, no one can.”
“I am leaving…”
“Hold on, I was just kidding! Geez!”
Rowan turned on his stomach and dunked his head underneath the water, before emerging once more.
“Tell you what, the next time we face each other, let’s say I win. Then you let me have a date with Lucia.”
Javi snorted.
“Que? Dude, you have a girlfriend!”
Rowan grinned from ear to ear.
“I do, I’m not gonna lie. But I always wanted to kinda sample some…enchiladas, if you know what I mean.
“You are truly disgusting,” Javi managed to get out through gritted teeth.
Rowan cackled out loud.
“That’s the deal. If I beat you at World Champs in November, then you organise me a date with your cousin. And maybe…even more than that, who knows.”
Javi was as close to vomiting as he ever was, in his entire life.
“And if I win? What do you have that I even want?” he challenged Messer.
Messer was quiet for a while, before he slowly smirked at Javi.
“You’re not gonna beat me, Garcia.”
“Okay, I am done, estas loco de mierda…”
“OKAY! GEEZ…look, I’ll make it easy on you. Just to show you how confidant I am that you’re not gonna come CLOSE to ever beating me.”
Javi scoffed.
“Like I said, you have nothing that I want. En serio! Nada! Nothing! Fuck you and fuck this deal…”
Rowan snapped his fingers.
“A ha! Got it!”
“Que pasa?”
Rowan grinned mischievously.
“If I win, which I will…”
“Bastardo…”
“…whatever. When I win, I go on a date with Lucia. But you don’t even have to even beat me…if you even win just a SINGLE SET in our next game…”
Rowan suddenly stopped talking.
Javi frowned, the water splashing around his person.
“Si? If I win just one set in our next game, then what?”
Rowan took a deep breath, before his smile returned.
“Then I will suck your dick.”
Javi wasn’t sure if he had heard Rowan properly.
“Lo siento…I mean, sorry, I don’t understand…?
Rowan came closer to Javi, before he held out his pinky finger, and pointed it towards his Spanish rival.
“I’m serious. I know what I can do and I know I won’t lose. I have never even dropped a single set against you, when you played each other. That’s how confident I am. If that happens in our next game, I will fucking get down on my knees and I will suck your cock and you can even cum in my mouth if you want. But like I said…that ain’t gonna happen.”
Javi needed to get out of that pool, more than he needed to take his next breath.
Oh my God.
This…wasn’t happening, was it?
“You…you would really do that?” he asked, his voice nothing but a hoarse whisper.
It took Rowan a few short seconds, but he eventually nodded, bravely at that.
“I promise,” he whispered back in return.
As if in a dream, Javi, slowly, shakingly, raised his arm from the water, and reached out towards his American counterpart, before taking his pinky finger, and lacing it with his own.
“Don’t get any ideas, amigo. I’m still gonna cream you when we face off,” Rowan grinned once more.
**
November 2024 – World Junior Championships
“MIERDA!”
Javi nearly slammed his racket to the ground like he had seen so many other tennis players do out of sheer frustration as he lost the first set in the Final to Rowan, yet again.
Talk about dejavu.
This time though…this time, he felt like he could do some damage. God knows, he had trained as hard as a nearly twenty-year-old teenager possibly could. He was in the best physical condition of his life, he was fitter, faster, more agile than he had ever been.
He still just lost the first set of the game to that FUCKER Rowan Messer.
He knew somewhere, out there in the Serbian crowd, was Lucia…ready and waiting for him to lose this match, like she had begged him to do so many times since he had told her about the dare he made with his opponent. Even after nearly two years of him waiting to defeat Messer, Lucia still had a crush on him and was all willing to go on a date with him.
If he lost, that was. There were still two sets remaining. And the deal was, that he had to win a SET, not the game. That was all on Rowan being cocky, thinking he would walk all over Javi.
“Tell your cousin to wear something pretty tonight, yeah?” came the taunt from Rowan as they took a much-needed water break.
“Remember to use mouth wash before you blow me later!” Javi taunted back.
“Okay boys, settle down, no need for that!” came the scathing words from the umpire.
Javi shook his head. He never once thought that Messer would actually stick to his side of the deal, if he managed to win a set against him. He was as straight as they come, with a new girlfriend on his arm every few weeks, it seemed. The moment he dumped the Disney princess; he started dating the younger sister of some or other American Football star.
There was no way he would ever honour their deal, but it seemed more and more like he wouldn’t need to. This game was going like all the others did before it, a crushing defeat for Javi Garcia.
Second set, and within twenty or so minutes, Messer was leading 4-0.
Within a couple more, he was leading 5-0.
If he won the next game, he would win the second set, and with that, the game.
Come on, Garcia. FOCUS!
You can do this!
Javi played a blinder. It was like something…otherworldly had taken control of his body and he was simply operating on auto pilot. Just when it seemed like Messer would plant the ball out of his reach, Javi was there.
5-0 became 5-2 and eventually 5-3 as Javi fought back like he had never done in his life.
The Serbian crowed started to realise that something was up. Rowan Messer had never been thrown off-guard like this, before in his life.
They ROARED as Javi dragged himself almost supernaturally to 5-4 and eventually to a tie break at 5-5.
Javi sunk to his knees in sheer and utter exhaustion, whilst Rowan Messer stared at Javi as if seeing him only for the first time. The look on his face would be priceless, if Javi had any energy left to notice. Just to tie things up, had left him devoid of energy against his mammoth unbeaten opponent, but he knew this was it. This was IT!
He felt from the start, he could do some damage, and he has.
Messer too, seemed totally out it, whether it be from shock or being equally exhausted or perhaps, humiliated that his arch rival was currently bettering him in all aspects, that he slipped and fell to the ground trying to stop a shot, allowing Javi to take the lead 6-5.
Another game win, and Javi Garcia would have won a set against Rowan Messer.
Unthinkable, unimaginable only mere hours before.
Javi could hardly stand; he was so tired. Sweat dripping from his forehead.
Messer downed some water before slapping his face a few times, as if to steady himself, willing himself to get over whatever THIS was, and served the opening shot. Back and forth the two nineteen-year-old boys battled, trying their best to outclass each other. This wasn’t about a dare made months before anymore, this was about pride.
Rowan Messer knew losing a set against Garcia meant a meltdown from the media. A total and utter shit storm would be coming his way.
Javi Garcia knew that winning even just a SET against Messer would mean all the hard work was paying off, and there was nothing more he liked to do for years now… than to see Messer…defeated.
Javi slipped, but managed to hit the ball over the net, whilst Messer charged with the speed of a ninja to match him, hitting it out of bounds, but Javi FORCED himself, DRAGGED himself to the corner of the playing area and hit the ball as hard as he could.
He saw Messer back track and jump up to get some touch of his racket onto the ball…
…and he missed.
The ball landed within the parameter of the area, and suddenly it was all HELL broke lose.
Messer had just been beaten in a set for the first time in his life.
Javi opened his eyes and stared at the screaming crowd in sheer awe and wonder…in all the games, bar the one in Madrid, the crowd always used to chant MESSER…MESSER.
They were now chanting for him.
HIM.
He was the underdog…and he had just done the seemingly impossible.
He looked over to an equally exhausted Rowan Messer…starting at Javi with tired and probing eyes.
The dare…DIOS MIO…the dare they made.
Holy fuck.
Javi’s chest tightened as he saw Messer look up, and even though both boys felt like they might collapse at any given moment, Messer smiled…his face lighting up with…could it be…pride? Finally, respecting Javi Garcia, as a tennis player?
Messer nodded towards Javi, and the latter nodding back.
Javi would start the serve for the third, and final set.
Could he…could he BEAT Rowan Messer? Could he?
Both boys were utterly done, with neither of them having taken to this sort of level before. Messer usually demolished his opponents in the second set, whilst Javi had never been to a third set in a final against Messer before. The physical toll was starting to show on the faces of both nineteen-year-old boys.
Messer slammed the ball over to Javi, who returned it as best he could, but his shot was weak, nearly not even making it over the net as per. Messer hit the ball up in the air, meaning Javi had to backtrack. In the process of jogging backwards and not looking where he was going…
…he slipped and fell down; the pain lodged in his ankle going from zero to a hundred in literal seconds.
“AHHH! DUELE, DUELE!” Javi screamed as the ball plodded down useless next to him, as he grabbed his ankle with both his hands.
Everyone knew the game was clearly over, and that Messer would once again be victorious over Garcia, but this time, not because he defeated him. Because Garcia had to retire injured.
Tomorrow’s headlines would clearly state…who knows what could have happened if not for his injury…because Garcia had managed to rattle Messer like no player had ever had before.
Within mere seconds, both Jorge as well as Lucia and his coach were right at his side, as the medics carried the nineteen-year-old teenager off to a hero’s reception from the Serbian crowd.
Javi managed to take one last look at Rowan before he was taken into the examination room…and the boy just…stood there. Like he wasn’t sure what to do.
He sure wasn’t celebrating his win, that was for sure.
**
Broken ankle. Out for six weeks.
Thank God it was Christmas soon and the next tournament would only be in a couple of months.
Jorge had a meeting with Javi’s coach at a restaurant to discuss the way forward, and of course Lucia had her date with Messer. He had told her he would be a little late due to interviews he had to do, but that he would meet her at the local Starbucks in about half an hour. He had even told her it would be worth her while.
Same old Rowan Messer. Just when you think there might be a heart in there somewhere, there was nothing but a gaping black hole.
A knock on the door startled him.
He literally knew no one in Serbia and he didn’t order room service.
What the fuck?
Another knock, twice this time, and in quick succession.
Javi swallowed carefully and cleared his throat.
“Quien esta ahi?” he shouted towards the door, his heart racing.
“Stop talking shit and open the God damn door!”
What? But that was…
Javi hobbled to the door as quick as his broken ankle would allow him to, before he quickly opened it and OH MY GOD…
It was a panting and shaking Rowan Messer.
“What the hell are you doing here? Where is my prima?” Javi demanded.
Rowan shook his head frantically, before he quickly entered the room and took a deep breath.
“I…Jesus…the reporters are everywhere in this God damn place! I sent my buddy Eddie to keep her company. You can trust Eddie, he’s one of the good ones.”
Javi nearly threw himself at Rowan and not in a good way.
“Bastardo! I thought you were taking her out! That was the dare, no?” he demanded.
Rowan collected himself, before he calmed down and took a good look at Javi.
“I was never going to take your cousin out, Garcia.”
QUE?
Javi shook his head, and crossed his arms.
“I don’t understand. You are a piece of shit, you know that, yes?”
Messer smiled, before he took a few steps closer to Javi.
Javi’s heart rate quickened, if that was at all possible. His legs shook with fright…because what the hell was Messer doing?
Why was he coming closer…and closer…and closer?
“Tu…tu estas haciendo…” he started to rapidly protest, but Rowan simply reached out and placed his index finger over his lips to silence him.
“You talk way too much, I told you I can understand every word you say, dude. Look, I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a coward or a loser. I made you a promise and I’m going to keep it, whatever it takes!” he whispered, his voice nothing but a raspy whisper.
Javi trembled.
There was no misunderstanding now, it was VERY clear what Messer was talking about. He could see it in the boy’s eyes.
“But…I lose the game?” he managed to croak out.
Rowan smirked.
“Correction…you retired injured. You didn’t lose; I won by default. You should really learn how tennis works, amigo. Then again…I’ve been looking forward to this…” he replied, before sinking down to his knees.
“DIOS…MIO…” Javi whispered in sheer awe, as Messer made his way downwards, until he was face to face with Javi’s groin area.
“You aren’t…you aren’t really going to…MIERDA…” he cried out as he felt Messer reached forward and place the palm of his hand right on top of Javi’s rapidly hardening penis.
He was stone hard within seconds. The boy of his dreams was actually…he was DOWN THERE…oh my God…
“Let’s get this off, shall we?” Rowan said softly and slapped away Javi’s hand who half-heartedly wanted to stop this from happening, because he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing? Was he dreaming?
If he was, he never wanted to wake up.
“FUCK…” came the broken English as Rowan had managed to manoeuvre down his trousers, as well as his boxer shorts and was now staring right at his stone hard teenage cock. Even worse, was when Rowan actually reached out and placed his hand on his organ.
“No puedo creer que esto este pasando…” he whispered and smiled as Rowan looked up, fully understanding what was said.
“Better believe it, buddy…” came the final crashing words, before Messer took his cock right inside his mouth.
“AAAAAY….mierda…” came the rapid moans from poor Javi, as his eyes felt like they were rolling back in their sockets. He had never gotten a blowjob from anyone before, whether it was a boy or a girl, and there were several times that he could have gotten with a girl, but he was way too afraid that he wouldn’t get hard or some shit…
…Jesus Christ, this totally wasn’t the first time that Messer had done this, because he was way too skilled.
“You taste good, Garcia…” Rowan managed to mutter as he popped Javi’s dick out of his mouth, only to lick his lips, as if to savour the taste and essence of the boy, before taking the hard phallus in his mouth yet again.
Javi visibly flinched as he felt the tip of Messer’s tongue glided repeatedly over his flaring open piss slit as he doubled over in the sheer passion, emotion and ecstasy that he was being subjected to. Messer’s moans whilst blowing him, only seemed to egg Javi’s libido on even more, as he, on sheer instinct, started to face fuck his arch rival into total oblivion.
Rowan wasn’t about to let that get him down as he met Javi’s challenge in that hotel room, just as he used to do on the tennis court. He attacked Javi’s steel hard teenage spike with everything that he had inside of him, as if he wanted to prove to Javi Garcia that he was the best in everything…even in something like this.
Javi felt his balls tighten. Fucking hell, he was going to blow.
There wasn’t time to warn Messer.
There wasn’t time.
“DIOS MIO!” he hissed over and over as his balls were parted with their rich white Latino protein, ending up straight into the mouth of his biggest rival and supposed enemy.
He gripped Rowan’s blond hair so tight, he was afraid that he might tear the skin off his head.
Holy mother of…was he swallowing it?
He had to be, there was no spillage anywhere that he could see.
His body was wrecked…in its totality, as it sifted through the final highs and lows of his earth-shattering orgasm, before he nearly slumped on top of Rowan, as his legs threatened to give in, especially when standing majorly on only one foot.
Rowan Messer swiftly stood up, quickly wiped his mouth, and proceeded to catch Javi before he could completely lose his balance. Two pairs of eyes met instantly, as earthy brown caramel proceeded to meet bright crystal blue.
Javi shook his head, still not believing what had just happened, before he sighed and looked Rowan deep in his eyes. At the same time, Rowan’s eyes were all over Javi’s features too…as if he couldn’t get enough of the handsome young Spanish teenager.
Time stood still.
And in the end, it was Rowan…of course it was Rowan…
…who slowly leaned in…
…and softly laid his lips on that of Javi.
The kiss lasted only mere seconds, but it literally felt like several minutes.
Both boy’s hearts were beating so fast, they would need a cardiologist soon.
Messer slowly smiled, spread across the entirety of his face, as he reached up and carefully, as if he would somehow hurt him if he proceeded faster, curved the palm of his hand against Javi’s warm, brown coloured cheek.
“Until next time…” he whispered, before he grinned wickedly at his arch rival, and proceeded to get the hell out of Javi’s room.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
