Chapter Text
His return sailed long and that was it. For the first time in over a year it was Game, Set and Match: Thiem. Under the crowd that roared not for him, Filip walked up to the net, waited for Domi's handshake, his arm on his shoulder, his consoling words of encouragement: "Good match. You'll do great things, for sure." He left the court, now with some applause for him. Everything after that was routine: He took a quick shower, changed into streetwear and left his bag in a locker to grab it later.
On the way to the back door, he was surprised to meet Dennis.
"Hey, Filip, good match."
"Yeah, thanks..."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, you'll get him next time." He passed him with a nice pat on the shoulder. His words didn't sound as empty as they should have been, considering he obviously didn't want his boyfriend to lose. It was a nice gesture.
This little distraction didn't keep him from going on with his after-loss routine. He walked out in the open and picked the most remote bench as a thinking place.
It was a mixed bag ever since they announced the draw. Damn, he was really playing his idol. In front of a home crowd. Obviously, they'd cheer for Domi, their international star, over some no-name upstart. But still. He at least had to have a chance, too, considering Domi's form. So if he won, would that make him a party pooper? Or maybe nobody would care about the hundredth loss in a row. Only superfans like him would remember every opponent Domi lost to in that span: Sonego, Norrie, Andújar, Mannarino, Cachín, Millman, Bonzi, Murray, Fognini, Cecchinato, Dellien. And then Misolic? So what if he lost? Would that make him a mega loser, losing to one of the losingest players on tour right now? Obviously Domi was still a great champion despite his form, the switch could flip any day. Maybe then, even as a loser, he'd be part of something bigger. Main character in "The Day Dominic Thiem Remembered How To Play Well". And now that it happened he was just as unsure what to think. He felt bad about the break lead he gave up in set 2. He felt relieved that he wasn't a nervous mess on court. He felt good that his idol was winning again. He felt disappointed because all his friends and family were probably watching and he let them down. Amidst all this confusion, a certain other part of this whole thing didn't help, at all.
Domi himself. Not the name but the man in the flesh. Filip felt something inside him build up once his opponent walked toward him with a smile on his face. Finally, he smiled again on court. Of course he had talked to him before, practised with him, got some words of encouragement. But not with his hand on him and their faces so close. That's when he felt the worst feeling ever: when you realize you're getting hard in public. He tried to convince himself that nobody had noticed and hopefully Dennis would never find out that minutes before he spoke to him he was jerking off in the shower because his boyfriend was too fucking hot.
Alright, enough thinking. Filip headed back to the lockers. Going through his things he realized he had left his shampoo in the stall. He could hear the water flow so he would unfortunately disturb somebody. Worst case it was Domi. In any case, though, he would act professional. He just had to get the bottle and common tour life decency dictates you don't use the stall with stuff left in it. The closer he got to the showers the clearer became those weird sounds he had picked up on. Sounded a bit like Domi. But not his usual talking voice, more... distressed? Maybe he shouldn't be here if he was gonna invade his privacy. Suddenly he got louder. Was that a moan? He didn't injure himself, did he? He risked taking a peek around the corner and was shell-shocked.
"Ahhh... Dennis... please... more..."
In a matter of seconds his head had been back behind the wall. Yes, that was Domi, no doubt. Not just Domi. Filip was so surprised that he had trouble comprehending the glimpses he caught. Instinctively, he made the fatal decision to confirm what he saw, trying to make sense of what was happening in front of him.
Domi was pressed against the tiled wall, his nude body shiny from the water. Behind him was his boyfriend, a hand in his hair, the other... moving... in and out... of his ass...
"Yes... ugh... right there.... please... harder..."
He wasn't sure what Domi meant. Not because he was too innocent or something. But because while Dennis fingered him he also had his head buried in his neck, clearly biting into Domi's skin. Instead of choosing he just went harder on both fronts.
"Fuck... fuck yes... thank you... ah...."
These whimpers were too much. His head was running wild with thoughts, about what was going on and what he was going to do. Should he run? Should he participate? What he did was look closely. To memorize as much as possible because a chance like this may never present itself again.
Domi was so clearly enjoying it. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. That was a face of pure ecstasy. He was on his tiptoes but his knees were bent, his arms up against the wall above him. Dennis' hand kept crashing into his buttocks and made them jiggle. Good fucking god, they were so obscenely massive.
"I'm so close... Dennis... gonna cum... please..."
Dennis went even harder and seemed to whisper into Domi's ear.
"Yes... yes, please... I want that... oh fuck... I can't wait... yes, Dennis... use me... like a fucking whore..."
Were they making... plans?
Dennis seemed to bite the earlobe now and that's when Filip noticed his eyes. They were looking right at him.
He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He could only stare back into those eyes like they were speaking to him. They didn't show embarrassment. They didn't tell him to get lost. Nor did they invite him over. They were saying: "Look at this. This is mine."
Domi's moans climbed up almost an octave as soon as his orgasm rushed through him. Dennis supported his shoulders and carefully let him fall to his knees in exhaustion. Was he really that oblivious to what just happened around him?
Now he could see Dennis' body clearly. He was coming towards him with his tattooed arms, his cut abs, his veiny upright cock. He couldn't move. Why didn't he move?
Dennis handed him a shampoo bottle. "You're looking for this, right?" The way he said that. Completely unfazed. In a low tone. Almost cocky.
Finally Filip came to his senses. He took the bottle and ran without looking back. He fetched his bag on the go and bolted out of there. Through the corridor and through the back door. He only noticed his visible boner a few hundred metres away from the facility and quickly tucked it under his waistband with nobody in sight.