It was just a joke. Right?
“Stop thinking so loudly,” Ferru says, crossing his arms.
Rafa saw his lips move. That didn't happen in his head. “Are you sure you didn't imagine it?”
“I don't sit around my hotel room thinking about your uncle, Rafa.”
Rafa's sure he doesn't know what Ferru does in his off hours. He could be thinking about everybody's uncles, for all Rafa knows. “Just because you thought of Toni doesn't mean we're telepathic.” He spells it out, slowly. “That was a joke. On stage. For the party. Like the hypnotism.”
Ferru doesn't exactly roll his eyes, but it's a close thing. “The hypnotism was a joke. The telepathy is real.”
“Fine,” Rafa says, leaning back against the hotel wall and mirroring Ferru's crossed arms. “Tell me what I'm thinking.”
“Winning Roland Garros,” Ferru says immediately.
Ferru shrugs. “Try again, then... Fabio Fognini kissing Mohamed Lahyani on Centre Court at Wimbledon.”
Okay, that's freaky. And not just the telepathy. Rafa's brain scares even him sometimes. “You can really hear my thoughts? Fuck.”
Ferru uncrosses his arms and makes a gesture like, my point exactly, good job catching up.
“Why does it only go one way?” Rafa says, with belated suspicion. “Did that magician telepathy-roofie me? How am I supposed to play matches against you if you can listen in on my thoughts?”
Ferru gets that innocent look he always has when he's about to be mischievous. “Maybe I'll win Roland Garros this year. Djokovic'll be pissed.”
“Fuck,” Rafa says, feelingly.
“I'm not sure it goes only one way, though,” Ferru says. “Try tuning in to what I'm thinking.”
Rafa's not sure that's a good idea. He might be about to see the further adventures of Fognini and Lahyani, because Ferru looks sweet but can be evil sometimes. But he's not about to let Ferru be the only person with telepathy superpowers, so he concentrates.
He half-expects a thought-bubble to come up above Ferru's head, but it's nothing like that. He just gets a flash of a mental picture – Ferru covered in clay, with his arms around Rafa's Coupe des Mousquetaires. “Not funny.”
Ferru grins. “Okay, try a harder one.”
No mental picture this time, even though Rafa tries to find it. And then, suddenly – but that can't be right.
“Not coming through,” he says, and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe your brain isn't as good at projecting as mine is.”
Ferru sighs and closes his eyes. After a moment, his tongue slips out of the side of his mouth, like it always does when he's concentrating.
That's probably what's throwing Rafa's telepathy powers off. Combine Ferru's tongue with the Fognini-Lahyani kissing thing (shudder), and suddenly all Rafa can think of is kissing Ferru. It's so loud in his brain, no wonder he can't hear whatever Ferru's trying to send him across the telepathy-waves or whatever the fuck they're called.
It's not that he's never thought about kissing Ferru before. A man has his fantasies, and Ferru's tongue, well. It would take a stronger man than Rafa to ignore that tongue. But now, it just seems like it would be so natural to take that one step forward and lean down, slide a hand behind Ferru's neck and kiss him breathless. He bets Ferru's a great kisser. Ferru gets very single-minded about things, and that's a good trait to have in bed.
Fuck. Now his brain's in bed.
“Anything?” Ferru says, opening his eyes again.
“Uh,” Rafa says.
Ferru's mouth goes a little bit funny. “One more time.”
You know I can hear your thoughts, right? Yes, I'm a great kisser. But if you'd rather hear about Fognini...
“Fuck,” Rafa says, with an entirely different inflection, and without giving himself time to think about it, steps forward and bends his head to kiss Ferru.
For a second he reassures himself that he can always claim the telepathy-wires got crossed if that wasn't what Ferru was thinking, but that doesn't last long, because Ferru is definitely kissing back.
Ferru's also laughing at him, Rafa suspects, all across the telepathic wavelengths. But it's an affectionate laugh, not a mean one, so Rafa just kisses him harder until the laughter turns into something else entirely. Ferru's tongue is exactly as talented as he's always imagined, and he's not in the least bit shy.
Rafa's not sure who thought it first, but they make it to bed in record time, even if Rafa trips over a gear bag on the way and Ferru starts laughing again (out loud, this time).
“Shut up,” Rafa says, and pushes him onto the bed, following him down.
The next morning, the telepathy's gone.
Rafa would miss it – telepathic orgasms are the shit – but it's probably better for the tennis that it wore off. And the hypnotist would get sued all the time if it didn't, so.
Besides, if the telepathy hadn't worn off, he wouldn't be surprised when Ferru opens the bathroom door in the middle of his shower and says “Make room for me.”
Rafa kisses him until they're both breathless, and they may flood the floor a little bit. Just a little. It's worth it.
2015's going to be a great year.