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On December 24th, the eve of both Christmas and the first ever “A Very Tennis Christmas in Vienna” exhibition, Jannik is reminded of three truths about himself.
One, he’s a planner.
Two, he’s not good with words.
Three, he is a stupid, stupid man.
Perhaps it would be best to unpack these separately.
I: Planning
Jannik does not simply act on his thoughts. He tried that once, the first time he attempted snowboarding, when he assumed he could just strap in and immediately race down the hill. He already knew how to ski, and how different could snowboarding be? He managed about two meters before falling face forward right into the snow, ankles sore the rest of the day. Ever since then, he ensures careful planning for all important decisions.
It’s why he has a regimented practice routine, why he develops a game plan for his next opponent as soon as he wins a match, and why he sticks to that game plan even if he happens to have a shaky start. Not to say he never takes risks. Sometimes, when he’s feeling extra bold, he throws in a flashy dropshot during a rally, especially (and preferably) when he already has a cushy lead. See? A real daredevil.
But mostly, his recipe for success comes down to three Ps: preparation, precision, and power.
How Carlos, on the other hand, manages to improvise on court so effortlessly, Jannik will never know. Even in practice, he somehow shifts from focused to carefree as easily as the flip of a switch. One moment he’s crushing forehands, the next he’s smiling and laughing, greeting every player with a huge smile as they pass by.
Jannik might hate him for this talent he himself doesn’t possess if it wasn’t so, well…charming.
Just a few hours ago, for instance, Carlos was practicing on the stadium court for their exhibition, and when he noticed Jannik arriving, he immediately relaxed his brow, grinned, and waved.
“Hola Jannik!” he called. “I done, is all yours now,” and he started jogging to the bench.
“No, no, please, finish. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Jannik had actually arrived a few minutes early on purpose, hoping to get an up-close view of the ass—um, the action.
Carlos’s laugh echoed through the arena, as if Jannik had just told the funniest joke rather than made a simple, polite comment.
“You never disturb. Is always good to see you,” Carlos said sincerely, shaking his hand. He stared up at Jannik, beaming, as he often does, and Jannik’s stomach did a flip, as it lately does in Carlos’s presence.
“So, uh,” Jannik cleared his throat, breaking eye contact. “How’s the court?”
“Is ok,” Carlos shrugged. “Not too fast. Maybe is good for me, maybe I have chance against you.”
“Please, you’ve beaten me many times,” Jannik smiled.
“Sometimes,” Carlos agreed, grinning. “I think it will be nice tomorrow. I always excited to play you, to spend time with you.”
“Me too,” Jannik agreed softly. He couldn’t help himself, he looked Carlos directly in his big, beautiful, brown eyes, and right on cue his stomach flipped again.
Thus, here Jannik sits, alone in the locker room on Christmas Eve, planning. He nervously bites his pen as he mulls over what to write on some scratch paper he found. But more on that later.
****
II: Wordsmithing
English is hard enough as a second language, or so Jannik’s been told. As his third language, sometimes it feels impossible searching for the correct word or turn of phrase that exactly captures his thoughts. It seems like every week there’s a splashy headline misconstruing something he said in English. How he feels about the schedule, what he thinks about prize money, how many exhibitions are too many. Whatever the case, it’s never quite right. The only person who seems to truly understand him is, somehow, Carlos.
Both written and verbal in English evade him at times. That’s why he’s taken to rehearsing speeches in English lately, to be better prepped for his verbal remarks. Wait, is it ‘verbal’ or ‘oral’? Speaking of, he wouldn’t mind getting some more practice with certain other ‘oral’ activities. Ideally this could lead to that…Maybe, even – if he dares to dream – after the match tomorrow…
All in due time, he thinks, cheeks getting warm at the prospect. Can’t get too ahead of himself. He has everything planned out, of course; where they’ll talk tomorrow and when.
Everything, that is, except for the damn words.
****
III: Stupidity
Lastly, Jannik is a stupid man.
Why is he stupid? Because he’s wasted countless weeks – no, months – ignoring signs that would have led to this realization much sooner. The realization that he is in fact totally and completely enamored with Carlos Alcaraz.
He also has a strong suspicion that Carlos likes him back. At the Davis Cup finals, when Carlos had started to consume an unprecedented amount of real estate in Jannik’s thoughts, Jannik pulled Matteo aside to ask some burning questions.
“Does Carlos ever stare at you a little too long?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Matteo asked.
“You know, like…when you’re talking to him, does he sort of…linger?”
“I don’t think so,” Matteo shrugs. “Nothing I remember.”
“Ok, um…how about…when he compliments your hair, does he sometimes run a finger through your curls?” Jannik stopped himself from adding, Does it make you feel all tingly inside when he does it?
Matteo smirked. “Ah. Definitely not – he’s never even complimented my hair.”
“Really? Ok, what about when you’re sitting next to each other and your thighs accidentally touch, does he take a while to shift his legs so they aren’t touching anymore?”
“No.” Matteo’s smirk had turned into a grin by now. “Let me ask you something though. When your thighs touch, why don’t you ever move your legs away?”
That about settled it. He knew the answer deep down for a while now, and finally he was ready to bring it to the surface.
Jannik checks his watch. It’s nearly dinnertime, his team will be looking for him if he doesn’t wrap this up soon. Surely he must be close to something respectable by now anyway. He gathers the pages of notes and skims through his half-written, partially scratched out confessions to see which bits are salvageable to say to Carlos tomorrow.
Ever since I saw your biceps, I
You have the most beautiful eyelashes
What if we touched thighs on purpose sometime?
You do everything so good
I admire you always
It’s only a merry Christmas because you are here
Do you want to go date sometime?
I think we should date
Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing ass smile
I want to kiss you
I would very much like to have sex with you
The “Carrot” to your “Beast”
Seeing you in a sleeveless shirt changed my life
Your laugh is like music
I can’t stop thinking about you
I’ve never felt like this before
Just saying, it’s quite a nice ass
Does Nike have to tailor your shorts special for you?
Voglio scoparti!!!
You make me feel seen
You make me happy
I want you
What I want for Christmas is you
Just then, he hears footsteps. Shit, he thought everyone already left for the day. In a panic, Jannik scoops up the pages and tosses them into the nearest trash can. None of these notes are worthy of saying to Carlos anyway. He deserves something more polished and sweet and respectful, not “Please fuck me” in 10 different ways. And why did he write so much about his ass??
He’ll postpone until after Christmas. Give himself some more time. He’s waited this long already, what’s another few weeks? He glances pitifully at the trash can, then, as the footsteps get louder, hastens for the exit.
****
IV: A Christmas Miracle
Jannik tosses and turns all night, thinking and then overthinking about whether he’s made the right decision to wait. It doesn’t help that the ride from his hotel to the arena is littered with advertisements of happy couples celebrating Christmas together and romantic Christmas songs on the radio. Maybe he shouldn't have come here at all. He could've let Holger take his spot and enjoyed a nice, regular Christmas at home with his family, no risk of blurting out something stupid to Carlos.
Ever the professional, though, he compartmentalizes and puts all his energy into the match. It helps that once he sees Carlos, there's no place he'd rather be than here in Vienna, getting paid to marvel at his beauty and shotmaking. After some fun, thrilling rallies and lead changes in the score, Jannik eventually comes out on top. Even for an exhibition, Carlos seems considerably more excited and smiley at the net than expected.
“Good match, Jannik, was great. You don’t miss,” he says brightly, clasping Jannik’s hand. Must really be feeling the holiday spirit. “You fly home today?”
Jannik shakes his head. “Not until tomorrow.”
“Me too!” Carlos replies, eyes lighting up.
“Buon Natale, Carlos,” Jannik smiles, his cheer infectious. He pats Carlos briefly on the back, longing to leave his hand there.
“Feliz Navidad,” Carlos replies. Without missing a beat, he adds, “Is merry Christmas because you are here,” and as usual, his gaze lingers.
****
That evening after a lowkey Christmas dinner with his team, Jannik lays in bed trying awfully hard not to think about how he could be opening up to Carlos right now if not for his wretched planning. To distract himself, he tries watching a crappy Christmas movie on the TV. He stress-eats some holiday candy. He paces the floor. With each attempt, his thoughts turn to Carlos. Would Carlos like this movie? What kind of candy does Carlos like? Does Carlos enjoy long walks? Together, hand-in-hand?
“Fanculo!” Jannik curses to himself. Fuck waiting, it’s time. With renewed determination and a buzz of energy from the sugar, he takes three large paces and opens the door. He doesn’t get far though, slamming smack into someone on the other side.
“Scus—Carlos?!” Jannik exclaims. Carlos here, now? He’s never visited Jannik at his room like this. After a beat of stunned silence, Jannik urges, “Come in, please,” stepping back.
“Jannik…” Carlos starts in the sweet, accented tone that Jannik wants to hear again and again, “I hope is ok I come. I find this last night, and…” He trails off and gestures to the pages in his hand. There, clutched tightly, are Jannik’s haphazard words from yesterday.
“Is about me, no?” Carlos says eagerly, moving closer to Jannik.
Jannik’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. Dammit, why does he insist on writing things down on actual paper? Why can’t he use his phone like a normal person?
“I…Carlos—Charlie—yes, but…I didn’t know how to—I can’t say how I…I mean, what can I…” Words fail him yet again, and he can sense a flicker of doubt in Carlos’s eyes. Desperate, there’s only one thing he can think to do to make his feelings clear, to not let this slip away.
He leans forward and kisses Carlos.
Carlos gasps softly but doesn't pull away. He raises his chin and tilts into the kiss, his stubble pleasantly scratching Jannik’s jaw. His mouth is sweet and warm, lips soft and plump. His subtle movements complement Jannik's ministrations like the very best of their rallies. It’s only been a few seconds but already Jannik feels this is what they were made for, what he’s been missing all this time. Delicate, perfect kisses that make him lightheaded.
Carlos parts his lips ever so slightly and Jannik seizes the opportunity. He kisses him harder, slipping his tongue into his mouth, moving his hands down to Carlos’s waist. Carlos reciprocates enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Jannik’s neck and slotting his fingers through his curls.
“Charlie,” Jannik whispers between kisses. “How did you know it was me?”
“Lots of things,” Carlos laughs. “‘Carrot.’”
“Oh, of course,” Jannik chuckles, pressing light kisses from jaw to ear. “And you decided to come over from that? Just like that? No planning?”
“We don’t need plan to be together,” he says softly, nipping at Jannik’s bottom lip.
It’s so simple, so matter of fact. Of course he didn’t need to plan. He likes Carlos and Carlos likes him and that’s enough. He keeps kissing Carlos, can’t stop kissing Carlos, when suddenly he freezes, remembering some of his notes.
“Oh, um…all that stuff I wrote…especially about your body, I didn’t mean—I mean I did mean it, but I don’t want you to think…I mean, I like more than your body, it’s not just—”
“I like it,” Carlos grins, tonguing into his mouth. Jannik moans into it, kisses him back with matching intensity. Without thinking, he lowers his hands further, to Carlos’s ass, and squeezes. Carlos gasps and breaks the kiss, panting.
“Sorry, sorry,” Jannik apologizes, mortified. “It’s too fast, I know.”
“No!” Carlos cries, eyes wide. “Is ok, I just surprised. You don’t know how long I…I want—please.”
As if to prove his point, he guides Jannik’s shirt up and over his head and tosses it aside. Before Jannik knows it, they’re horizontal on the bed, Carlos straddling him. Carlos kisses him one more time, then sits up and removes his own hoodie and shirt. Jannik inhales sharply, speechless at the cut of his muscles and how different they look from his own. Reflexively he reaches out to gently run his fingertips over his biceps, then over his chest and abs. The outline of Carlos’s cock presses obscenely against his shorts. Jannik stops short of palming it for fear he might combust at the sensation.
“Is ok?” Carlos whispers shyly, shoulders relaxing when Jannik quickly nods.
“Look at you…I think maybe I should have written about your bulge, too,” Jannik says.
Carlos giggles, evidently pleased at this reaction, and eases fully backward off the bed. The separation is agony to Jannik until he understands why. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, Carlos lowers his shorts and boxers to the floor.
“Cazzo,” Jannik curses under his breath. He’s never seen such a perfectly thick, well-groomed cock before. He thinks his own cock actually twitches at the sight, which he didn’t realize was possible.
Carlos grins and climbs back on top of him, joining their lips again, each swipe of his tongue drawing moans from Jannik. Jannik moves his hands to Carlos’s bare ass and fuck if it doesn’t somehow feel even better like this. Forget half-written notes, he should write poetry about his ass. Songs, novels, even epics. He’s so taken with it that he nearly misses Carlos adjusting to slip a hand under his shorts.
“Charlie!” Jannik cries when Carlos wraps a strong hand around his cock. “Ahh, don’t stop.”
“You crazy? I not gonna stop,” Carlos smiles against his lips, stroking his cock a bit tighter at that. Jannik bucks up into his touch, kissing him over and over. Carefully, so his mouth never leaves Carlos’s lips or throat, he maneuvers them onto their sides and strips his shorts off to give Carlos better access.
Carlos’s cock is heavy and wet as Jannik begins to fondle it, beads of precum slicking the way. The whine Carlos makes when Jannik twists his wrist sends a ripple through his being, and again Jannik kicks himself for nearly missing this tonight. “Stupid man,” he mutters under his breath, grinding faster against Carlos.
“Qué?” Carlos asks, breathy.
“Nothing, sorry,” he reassures him with a kiss. “I just can’t believe you’re here.”
“I your Christmas present,” Carlos smiles, playful, but Jannik nods and agrees, “Best gift I ever got.”
As they rock back and forth pressed to each other, their hands roaming each other’s naked bodies, Carlos kisses him slow and soft and then whispers earnestly, “You are perfect.”
That sends Jannik over the edge, spilling into Carlos’s hand with a mumbled apology that Carlos kisses away. Then Jannik, eager to get a head start on that oral practice, nestles down between Carlos’s legs and stretches his mouth around the tip of his cock.
“Puta! Ay, Jannik!” Carlos squirms but seems to enjoy it, slotting a hand through his curls and pulling as Jannik attempts to take him deeper and deeper. Not long after, amid the string of Spanish expletives, he cries, “ay, close, close!” in warning and then comes warm and salty over Jannik’s tongue.
It’s so arousing that even with the edge taken off, Jannik craves more. He climbs back up, hovering over Carlos, kissing his neck, his mouth, his jaw.
“Jannik, I want—” Carlos moans, squeezing Jannik’s sides.
“Anything,” Jannik offers quickly, pulsing against him, his cock already half hard again. “Anything you want.”
“I want you inside,” Carlos begs, which easily clears ‘Slam Champion Jannik Sinner’ as the greatest four words he’s ever heard.
Jannik dives for his mouth, hoping his kisses can show how much he wants that too. He takes his time opening Carlos up, trying to make it as good as possible and savor the wanton noises Carlos makes whenever Jannik crooks his fingers.
When he can’t hold out any further, he whispers, “Ready?” and lines up over Carlos. Carlos nods, breathing heavy, and whines as Jannik presses in. The suction around his cock, paired with Carlos crying out “Jannik!” is almost enough to make him come immediately.
Jannik stills and angles his head to get a good look at Carlos. Hickeys have started to bloom across his neck, beautifully marking Jannik’s affection. His lips are kiss-swollen and parted. He stares up at Jannik expectantly, eyes shining and pleading.
In that moment, Jannik doesn’t need words or plans. How lucky he feels, right here and now. He brushes Carlos’s cheek with his thumb and smiles. “Bello,” he murmurs. Carlos warms under his touch and pulls him in for another peck.
Like on court, Carlos is loud in bed, his moans music to Jannik’s ears. Even with Jannik thrusting slow and shallow at first, he lets out a little cry with nearly every push. When he calls out, “más, más,” and Jannik fucks into him deeper and faster, Carlos practically wails in pleasure.
“You like?” Jannik asks, like he doesn’t know.
“Sí!” Carlos cries.
He claws at Jannik, and instinctively Jannik palms his cock and strokes him to completion. The sight of Carlos flushed, spent, with come splattered between their bellies makes Jannik follow suit with a quiet groan.
Panting and hazy from pleasure, Jannik kisses him once more then rolls onto his back and scoops Carlos into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here,” Jannik repeats.
Carlos’s giggle is muffled on Jannik’s chest. “You say that already.” He sprawls out, stretching his arm and leg across Jannik. Their thighs touch and Jannik smiles at how correct this all feels, easy and natural. .
“I know,” he says, lazily running a hand up and down Carlos’s side. “I just…don’t want to hold back with you anymore.”
Carlos lifts his head to look at him, not just at him but through him, and nods. “I understand.”
Jannik doesn’t know what he did to deserve this Christmas miracle, Carlos warm and nestled in his arms, but as he drifts off to sleep, he vows to cherish it forever. The perfect Christmas, the perfect beginning.
❤️