THE DEAL || CA

THE DEAL || CA

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pt. 2, (previous part)

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager, especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warning: diabolical tension

a/n: this is kind of all over the place because I’m trying to build up enough foundation before the tournament starts. I hope you like it (please tell me how much you like it, I need validation)

MASTERLIST

THE DEAL || CA

You sat in an uncomfortable silence typing away on your laptop. In your peripheral, you could see the Spaniard slowly moving to lie down on the sofa from his seated position.

"Don't fall asleep." A frustrated grunt came from Carlos as he repositioned himself slightly resting his head against the back of the sofa.

"Okay and if they ask you about potentially facing Djokovic?" Your eyes watched the screen intently scanning the prospective questions on your laptop.

"I tell them I've beaten him before and I believe I can again, especially with my new serve and resetting over the break." His tone was dull and his eyes watched the ceiling.

"Perfect, any questions about the back end of last season or concentration just try to redirect and talk about the work you've been doing over the break." Carlos nodded, scrutinising you're every movement with his gaze.

You wrote down notes that you could send Carlos on everything you'd been discussing. You leaned back against the sofa, gently falling into the cushions as you moved to sit cross-legged.

Carlos' eyes observed you as you intently stared at the screen, "D'you get bored doing this?" Your eyes flitted to the Spaniard briefly for the first time since you began going over questions,

"What do you mean?" You returned to doing work, shaking your head at the silly question as you watched the time in the corner of your screen tick by.

You were desperate to get this done so you could return to your room and sleep, doing your best to ignore the looming tension of the deal you had earlier agreed to.

"I get bored at you asking me questions, and I'm the player. Don't you get bored of writing up answers and managing my media presence?" You paused briefly, the condescending tone grating on you. You met the brown eyes that hadn't left your frame.

"I love my job, I get to see behind the sports in a way no one else does. Plus I'm good at it." He looked sceptically,

"I'd rather play." You shook your head in amusement, finishing up the final question.

"Unfortunately we can't all be professional tennis players Alcaraz." He smirked at your response, getting up off the sofa and heading to the kitchen area.

You emailed the Spaniard the work you'd done the evening, finally closing your laptop and letting relief flood your body.

"Luckily for you, we're done for the evening. I'd like some pyjamas and then I'll get out of your way." You stood up moving slightly towards the door, begging to leave the company of the man who held you with such contempt.

"Gracias a Dios" (Thank god) His thankful tone stung slightly, envying the time when your clients enjoyed your company, and you'd stay long after the work was done due to the friendships you had founded.

He disappeared down the corridor and you stood by the door awkwardly. The night had ended up being the easiest day you'd had since you started, and all it took was promising Carlos you'd quit.

You knew the next issue would be telling his team and Juan Carlos would no doubt try to convince you to stay. But the thought of enjoying your job again loomed in the back of your mind and pushed you forward.

Just over two weeks. That's all you had to get through and now with Carlos actually cooperating it should've been simpler.

You checked the time and the massive 00:00 glared at you on the screen. It was a busy day tomorrow that involved you waking up with the sun and the dream of a full eight hours sleep has slipped from your grasp.

Just as you began to mentally plan for the content and work you needed to do tomorrow, Carlos reappeared his 6-foot stature looming over you.

"I don’t have pyjamas, so this is just some joggers and a t-shirt." He handed you the clothing, his hand brushing yours which jolted through your nervous system. In the last six hours, you'd been closer to the Spaniard in the entirety of your time working for him.

You avoided the brown eyes looking down at you, taking the items and moving towards the door. "That should be fine."

You walked to the door, reaching for the handle and standing in the open doorway. Just before stepping out into the hallway, you turned to face the Spaniard, shooting him a small smile that he didn't return.

"See you tomorrow Alcaraz." He nodded and the door closed in front of you.

Defeated you trudged back to your room, slipping into the far too big-for-you shirt and joggers that the Spaniard had lent you. They were bathed in his cologne and the musky scent filled your nostrils as you climbed into bed.

As you lay there waiting for sleep to hit you, you thought of what this job would've been like had Carlos not hated you from the outset.

Watching him play was magnificent and you wanted to be a part of the team that helped him achieve greatness, not to mention his Spanish charm had won over so many.

Every cold glance he gave you cut deeper and as you drifted off to sleep you were haunted by the way he had looked at you the first time you met.

...

The sun beat down on the outdoor courts. You watched Alcaraz move diligently from edge to edge of the light blue tarmac. The heat permeated through your body as the light summer dress you wore did nothing to alleviate the temperature.

You gaze fixated on the Spaniard's taut muscles and how he slid to seemingly effortlessly receive the ball. You had your phone up, taking photos and videos to go on Instagram later, but really you found yourself distracted by each noise that left his lips.

Your sunglasses rested lazily on the edge of your nose, and as Carlos' arms hit the ball over and over, your eyes watched his biceps carefully.

You understood why he had a flock of women watching his every move, his physique and tennis ability pulling so many in. Then there was his annoying smile.

The ball hit Juanki's torso with Carlos letting out a loud laugh that echoes through your mind. Carlos looked to his team who also laughed over the moment and his eyes flickered to you.

When he saw that your eyes were already on him, he smirked. A smug look took over his face and he shot you a wink, your face turned red and you quickly moved your gaze back to your phone.

You sent the photo to Carlos and picked up your bag, heading onto the court.

"Alcaraz, interview time let's get going." The clock was ticking down and media day was calling, with Alcaraz lined up for a fairly full day of pre-tournament interviews.

"cinco minutos más." (five more minutes.) The Spaniard called to you calmly as he continued hitting the ball back and forth across the court.

"Alcaraz. Now. We're already late." Carlos rolled his eyes, Juan Carlos telling him to go. The Spaniard headed towards you, the smile long gone replaced with his usual grimace.

"Disfruta la vista allá atrás" (Enjoy the view back there?) he taunted, his large hands reaching down to grab his tennis bag that was by your feet.

While he bent down to grab the bag, he brushed your side, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his arms brush yours. Then leaning into your ear as he stood back up. "You were blushing."

"I was doing my job, you know, filming content for you. Plus it's hot out here, I was just flushed." Your tone stood strong, but your eyes were telling a different story. Your body was covered in goosebumps, the bench behind you stopping you from stepping away.

He finally took a step away, which allowed your shoulders to fall in ease. He began to walk off with the same smug look as before back on his face, "¿No tenemos una entrevista a la que llegar?" (Don't we have an interview to get to?)

You shook your head, annoyance for the man filling your body. Not only was he being difficult, but now he'd resorted to teasing and taunting which was somehow worse than his angry indifference.

You turned to face Juanki as you began walking off the court behind Alcaraz, mouthing 'I'm going to kill him' which elicited a laugh from the coach.

"Have fun you two!" He called out and was met with two frustrated groans. Carlos stood at the exit waiting for you to catch up and began trudging behind you.

Walking through the grounds, he smiled, waved, and took pictures with the multitude of fans who spotted him. You'd silently stand to the side or offer to take the photo when needed.

The consistent stopping slowed you down, but you didn't mind when you saw the giddy smile of every fan's face as they met with Carlos' warm demeanour.

You eventually made it to the conference room. Before stepping into the room, you grabbed Carlos' arm, pulling him out of the doorway. He turned to face you, his eyes analysing your fingers wrapped around his bicep.

As his gaze focused on your hand, you pulled away as if his skin had burned you. "Sorry. I just wanted to remind you of everything we went over. This is just pre-tournament chatter so you should be okay."

"I've got it. Why won't you just let me do it." His tone was sharp and you rolled your eyes, your arms crossing in front of your chest in annoyance.

"It's not that I think you can't do it, I just want to help." Carlos took a step back from you, scoffing at your plea.

"Well I don't need your help." He left your side, walking into the room before you had a chance to respond. You threw your hands up in pure frustration, but the Spaniard had his back to you so the action was mostly for yourself.

You moved inside the room and sat down in the front row, ready to take notes.

The questions started light and easy, talking about the Spaniards off-season, the changes to his serve, the added weight in his racket. He answered the questions diligently, following everything you'd been through the night before.

You couldn't help but smile as he answered perfectly time and time again, showing you how easy this job could've been and subsequently how needlessly painful the Spaniard had been making it.

But then it fell apart. The questions began to get more pointed. More trying, asking him about losing to Jannik, losing to players outside the top 20, another year of struggles at the US Open. Then the straw that broke the camel's back came.

"So Carlos, your performance declined rapidly at the back end of last year, especially after your loss to Novak in the Olympics. How does that affect your mentality coming into Australia knowing you could face him?"

Shit. You knew you'd prepared Carlos for the question but you also knew how painful the Olympics loss had been. You knew how he was dreading facing Novak and you knew by the look in his eye that he was caught off guard by the question.

Your breath shallowed while you tried to stay calm as he sat there looking from the interviewer to you, the unease clearly written on his features.

"Um." He paused, he caught your gaze and you tried to send him a reassuring look. He looked down to his hands, lifting his head to meet the interviewers' gaze.

"I think to say my performance declined rapidly is stupid." Shit. Your head fell into your hands and you held back an audible groan. Some in the press conference laughed but Carlos didn't join in.

"I also beat Novak at Wimbledon, so maybe he should be the one scared to face me, no?" The room fell into a tense silence. The stone cold look on Carlos' face put off any follow up questions.

Carlos stood up, his demeanour clearly agitated, ringing his hands at his sides. He left the room and didn't slow down for you like he usually did. You quickly left, thanking the interviewers and apologising for Carlos before you rushed after him.

"Alcaraz, wait!" He didn't turn around, instead turning a corner and disappearing out of sight. You turned the corner and found him resting against the wall, shoulders slumped and hands covering his face.

"What was that?!" You stood in front of him and he pulled his hands from his face.

"Oh come on Y/N, He was out of line!" Carlos raised his voice in frustration, a clear sign of how much the interviewer had got to him.

"And we had prepared answers, you didn't need to be an asshole about it." You rested on the other side of the hallway, your annoyed facade matching the Spaniard's.

"You have no idea what it's like to sit there and have everything you do, questions and torn apart." Carlos stood up straight, closing the distance between you with his angry ranting.

"Maybe I don’t, but I do know what it's like to have to deal with you being an asshole." His face was mere metres from yours. Your hands moved to rest on his chest as he moved his mouth down to your ear.

"Then it's a good thing you won't have to for much longer, isn't it?" His spiteful tone sent a cold chill down your spine as his hand slid to your waist.

"Counting down the days Alcaraz." His breath hit your neck and you snapped, pushing away the tennis player's large figure. He had a smirk on his face as he stumbled back slightly.

You moved away from him, turning away from him quickly and storming away from the interaction. Your heart was racing and your chest was pounding, unable to sense if it was blinding rage or maybe something else.

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taglist: @kcharlyy @champagnecoastca

More Posts from Unforced3rr0r and Others

4 months ago
He Looks So Good I'm Ending It All

He looks so good I'm ending it all

3 months ago

I’ve started writing this carlos x pr manager fic and it has become enemies to lovers and I’m thinking it might also become a series……thoughts?


Tags
4 months ago

Guys the urge to write a soppy Jannik fic after this ban is so strong…


Tags
4 months ago

GREEN MONSTER || CA

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+18, MINORS DNI

summary: After a painful defeat in Doha, Carlos is less than pleased to see you cheering on his rival.

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, p in v, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex (don't try this at home), teasing, edging, degradation.

a/n: Carlos losing irritated me, so you're welcome. Also, I’m going to start a tag list so if you want to be added lmk.

MASTERLIST

GREEN MONSTER || CA

Carlos was pissed. From the second he left the court after losing because of a dumb mistake he was seething. Usually, he found a way to take a deep breath, calm down and find the good in every loss.

But not tonight. Usually, you would be waiting for him the second he got off the court, win or loss, ready to throw your arms around him and tell him everything was okay.

But when he emerged from the changing room looking desperately for you and the comfort you touted around with you, you were nowhere to be seen.

He turned to his coach who had the same perplexed look on his face. "¿Dónde está ella?" (Where is she?) Concern laced Carlos' tone.

You hadn't been to Doha before, and with only a few matches done, you didn't know your way around very well. Suddenly Carlos' anger was gone and replaced with worry.

"Ella estuvo aquí hace un momento." (She was here a moment ago.) Juan Carlos began looking around as if you were a racket he had misplaced rather than a person with legs and free will.

Carlos immediately reached for his phone and began texting you, but just as his thumb hovered over the send button, Juan Carlos tentatively called his name.

"Carlitos mira." (Carlitos look.) His brown eyes flitted to the screen in the hallway. Instead of seeing the match between Draper and Berrettini, like the cameras were supposed to be focused on, your face illuminated the screen.

The camera panned out slowly, you smiling widely and clapping as Draper scored a point. Then it hit Carlos. You were in Jack's box.

The worry was long forgotten as the rage returned tenfold seeing Draper smile at his box while you cheered enthusiastically.

You were supposed to be here comforting Carlos in the wake of his loss and instead, you were sat in his rival's box cheering him on.

Carlos picked up his phone again and furiously typed away on his phone. The camera had moved back to the on court action but he spotted you in the background of the shot glancing down at your phone.

Carlos: I’ll see you back at the hotel, then maybe you can explain why the fuck you’re in Draper’s box.

You glanced directly at the camera and smiled, as if you knew Carlos was starting at the tv. He let out a frustrated grunt, “vamos al hotel,” (let’s go to the hotel) Carlos called out to Juan Carlos.

When his coach gave him a questioning look the tennis player just shook his head, picking up his tennis bag and heading to the exit.

Juan Carlos let out a laugh behind the angrily stomping Spaniard.

Opening the hotel door your heart beat picked up its pace. You had known that you were tempting fate when Jack asked you to watch his game. You knew it was going to get worse when Jack won and Carlos lost.

When your phone had buzzed in the middle of the game you known it would be him, and the blatantly angry tone had lit your insides on fire.

Carlos was always sexy, but there was something about him when he was jealous, the glint in his eye and the way he held you.

You knew what you were doing slipping into Draper’s box and you couldn’t deny you were slightly excited at what you would face on the other side of the door.

When you walked into the hotel room, Carlos was sat on the sofa, his posture rigid as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

At the sound of the door closing his raised his eyebrows but didn’t turn to look at you keeping his focus on his phone where he angrily typed away.

You moved across the room putting your bag away in the bedroom along with your coat. When you returned back into the living room Carlos was watching you, his gaze waiting for your figure to appear in the doorway.

As you opened you mouth to speak, Carlos stood up, his eyes narrowing on you as his brown eyes stared you down.

“Have fun watching Jack?” His snarky tone cut through the silence.

Under his gaze you saw your options play out, you could diffuse the situation and lessen the repercussions, or…

“It was great, he has such an incredible playing style. It was quite an easy win for him really.” Carlos murmured under his breath the annoyance he felt earlier beginning to rise to the surface.

You decided to be brave, moving towards the Spaniard, closing the distance to the point where you could reach out and touch him. His soft brown eyes had sharpened, and with each step you took towards him his shoulder tensed.

"¿Crees que es mejor jugador que yo?" (D'you think he's a better player than me?) Carlos taunted, "¿Quieres sentarte en su palco como su novia para que todos puedan verte?" (Do you want to sit in his box as his girlfriend so everyone can see you?).

He reached his hand out to lift your gaze to his, his grip on your face tight but not painful. You watched as he leaned into your ear his voice low and domineering, "Answer me."

The way he spoke and held your face had you feeling lightheaded, the kind of attitude that Carlos only exhibits when he's truly pissed off. He spends so much time worshipping you usually that to have him standing over you now caused shivers to encompass your body.

"You're a better player than Jack." you whimpered, his other hand finding a tight grasp on your waist.

His hand slid from holding you by the jaw to resting on your neck, "and, do you want to be his girlfriend or mine because I guarantee he can't fuck you half as good as I can."

His words went straight to your core, and you found yourself whimpering at the thought of Carlos proving his point with you.

In the most delicate tone you could muster you nearly whispered, "I want to be yours." His eyes softened briefly before returning to their rage-filled view, the facade cracking just enough to remind you that this was your loving boyfriend standing in front of you.

"Pruébalo, ponte de rodillas." (Prove it, get on your knees). Stood in the middle of the living room you wasted no time lowering yourself to the ground, you held Carlos' gaze the entire time, fluttering your eyelashes as you looked up from the floor.

He stared patiently as your hands reached his shorts tugging them and his underwear down in one pull. He was hard, the tension of the afternoon so far visibly riling him up.

You wrapped your hand tightly around him pumping up and down, precum leaked from the tip and Carlos let out a groan as you moved forward to take him in your mouth.

Immediately his hand threaded through your hair, gripping tightly as you began to bob your head up and down. You licked a stripe from the base of him to the tip, as Spanish profanities poured from his mouth.

You took as much of him as you could in your mouth feeling him hit the back of your throat as you used your hand on the rest of him, you picked up the pace as Carlos praised you.

"Fuck this mouth was made for me and only me." Every word that left his lips hit your core harder, and you knew you were dripping as you tried to keep your attention on Carlos.

His breathing began to get shallower, and he began to direct your head with his hands. You braced your hands on his thighs and he began thrusting in and out of your mouth.

"God, you're such a good girl letting me fuck your face, would you let Jack treat you like this? huh? let him treat you like his own personal whore?"

You moaned into him at his words, as he pulled your head to his abdomen, your nose brushing the hair that you admired every time he worked out shirtless.

Your eyes watered from how deep Carlos was getting himself in your throat, his thrust faltering slightly as you could tell he was close. His moans grew and as you hollowed your cheeks around him and he came down your throat. You felt the hot spurts hit your taste buds the salty taste filling your senses.

Looking up at him you pulled away, smirking and noticeably swallowing. He groaned out of pure attraction, pulling you off your knees and into a desperate kiss.

The hunger was undeniable as his tongue found its way into your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your neck tightly. He pulled away moving to assault your neck, as his lips moved up to your ear he growled, "I'm going to fuck you with my tongue and fingers, and you aren't allowed to cum until I say so, okay?"

Your legs weakened just at the thought of Carlos between them and your mind was foggy with his lips attached to your neck. Briefly, he pulled away from his assault, eyes boring into you. "Yes?"

His demand for a response snapped you slightly from your daze a pleading tone hitting his ears, "Please Carlos."

"Please what?"

"Please fuck me." Carlos didn't hesitate to push you down onto the sofa behind you, lowering himself so he hovered over you.

His lips found yours as he roughly kissed you, trailing his lips down your neck, and to the skin on your chest not covered by your top.

His hand pulled on the bottom of your shirt and you moved slightly allowing him to pull it over your head, exposing your black lacy bra to him.

“It’s like you knew exactly where you’d end up.” One of his hands pulled at the cup of you bra allowing you to spill out of it. He roughly pulled on your sensitive nipple as you moaned at the sensation.

He attached his mouth to the top of your other breast, harshly sucking purple marks into your skin which would serve as a reminder of this moment in the days to come.

Each action drew moans from your lips as Carlos' hand trailed down from your breast down your body, his lips following eagerly after.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans he looked at you, his big brown eyes waiting for you to beg for him. His fingers rested on the buttons of your jeans and your head fell back against the sofa in frustration.

"Carlosssss." He flicked the button open, pressing a light kiss to your stomach just above the zipper,

"Dilo de nuevo." (say it again).

"What?"

"di mi nombre otra vez." (say my name again) His lips kissed your stomach again as his fingers slowly pulled down your zipper.

"Carlos." You whimpered, your hands reaching for the pillows on either side of you. He pulled down your jeans sliding them down your legs and throwing them out of sight. Met with black lacy underwear a smirk enveloped his face and he rubbed his thumb softly over the material.

"Matching underwear? Were you planning this?" You smiled briefly, but when his fingers pulled your underwear to the side and ran them through your folds you cried out. Your hands weaved their way into what small strands of hair were long enough to grab onto trying to pull him closer to you.

He laughed at your whining and the way your hips moved, desperate to feel more of his fingers against you. He paused for a moment, watching you squirm leaning forward and kissing your clit.

Your breathing deepened, the anticipation of the moment killing you. Just as you were about to beg him to touch you he thrust his finger inside you.

Loudly moaning his name as his fingers curled inside you, hitting every spot perfectly. His mouth attached to clit, his tongue trailing around it causing your legs instinctively to close around his head.

Every movement made had your hips edging close to him. He moved one of his large hands to hold your leg away, while the other hand brought you to tears.

The sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you was a clear sign of how desperate you wanted him. Your hands tugged harder on the ends of his hair as your abdomen tightened and your back arched.

Feeling your high fighting its way towards you, Carlos added a third finger and sped up his pace. The brutal speed fogged your vision, and your legs began to shake as you teetered on the edge.

Just as you felt your high about to hit, Carlos pulled away leaving you whining in frustration.

"Fuck." Your head fell to the side, looking down at the devilish grin and brown eyes staring back at you. You were still dripping, and as your hips subconsciously moved, trying to find friction with anything Carlos rubbed his thumb over your clit.

The jolt made your legs shake and you groaned in annoyance at the Spaniard having far too much fun teasing you. "Only girls who sit in my box and mine only get to cum."

His nonchalant tone infuriated you, grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulling him over you.

"Are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to get Jack to?" You knew you shouldn't have said it, but seeing the way his eyes darkened and the feeling of him gripping your thighs tightly made you sure you were in for the best sex of your life.

"You think he could make you feel half as good as I could?"

"Maybe I should go find out." You made a move as if you were going to get up and go find Jack. Carlos wasted no time, gripping your hips and throwing you over his shoulder. You yelped as he moved to the bedroom and threw you down on the soft sheets.

He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand, exposing his toned torso, his V-line carved into him, disappearing beneath his boxers.

You sat up, you nails trailing him his body other each ridge and dip in his body, your hand slips over his pecs and around his neck pulling him into a desperate kiss. His hand gripped the back of your neck as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

Carlos slowing moved over you while his lips moved to your neck, attacking the skin just below your ear. He pulled away from your neck and moved to pull you underwear from your legs, his hands travelling behind your back to remove your bra.

You lay bare in front of him and suddenly a wave of vulnerability engulfed you. He kissed up from you chest, to your neck and he whispered in your ears,

“Get on all fours for me.” His tone was deep and you know he was serious so you wasted no time moving so your ass was facing the Spaniard.

You head met the pillows and you felt Carlos’ rough grasp on your ass. He ran his hands over the soft skin before slapping it, jolting through your body and core.

He gave three slaps before he settled himself again you, feeling his clothed bulge against your dripping core.

One of his hands moved to slip through your folds collecting your slick with his fingers,

“You think Jack could make you this wet.” You were tired or teasing him, lying there desperate for him inside of you,

“Never, only you can Carlos. Only you.” For a moment it was silent behind you but just as you went to turn your head, Carlos entered you, bottoming out inside.

You both moaned at the feeling of him inside you, no matter how often you found yourself in this position it felt like the first time. He stayed for a moment, leaning down to kiss your shoulders.

"Carlos, please move." You tried to move your hips back against him but his hands steadied your body.

"Apuesto a que Draper no podría hacerte gemir así con sólo estar dentro de ti. Mira lo desesperada que estás." (I bet Draper couldn't make you moan like that just by being inside you. Look how desperate you are.)

You moaned at his words, your whine muffled by the pillows. You begged for him again, and this time, you felt him pull out and ram himself back into you, setting a brutal pace.

You tried to call his name, but incoherent moans were all you were capable of producing. Every thrust seemed to hit deeper inside you.

"Carlos fuck-" you managed to choke out praise as he railed into you, his hand making contact with your ass cheek again. You gasped at the contact, making your core grow wetter.

After teasing you before, it didn't take long before you were nearing the edge, at which point your whines turned into incessant begs for him to let you cum.

Unfortunately, the Spaniard had other plans, pulling out of you and leaving your core clenching around the air. You whimpered, gripping the sheets beside you in frustration before hitting your hand against the pillow.

Carlos flipped you over so he was on top and immediately lined himself up with your entrance again. You tried to move your hips allowing for any friction but it was pointless.

He kissed you roughly then smirked, "Si quieres correrte, será mejor que gimas mi nombre en voz alta, Draper está en la habitación de al lado." (If you want to cum, you better moan my name out loud, Draper is in the next room.)

Suddenly your heart stopped as you saw the shit-eating grin on his face. You may have known what would happen if you went to Draper's box but Carlos had put just as much thought into the payback.

He thrust inside of you again, your legs wrapped around his waist and your hand met his shoulder blade digging your nails into it as he returned to his harsh pace.

You did as he asked and moaned his name loudly with each thrust, his lips finding your neck and attacking it as he focused on how deep he could thrust inside you.

The room was filled with the sound of your moans and the sound of him moving in and out of you, Carlos groaning about how good you felt around him as he picked up his pace.

He moved your legs so they rested on his shoulders and the angle change was earth-shattering, your moans turned to incoherent screams, and his thumb found your clit which had your mind going foggy.

"Fuck Carlos, I'm so close." You cried out, begging that he would actually let you tumble off the cliff you were so nearing the edge of.

"Correte para mi" (cum for me). His words pushed you over the edge, seeing stars as your vision went white and you screamed the Spaniard's name while you came around him.

He fucked you through your high and as you clenched around him his thrusts began to falter and he came inside you groaning. His head fell to the crook of his neck, your legs falling from his shoulders and his arms held up his body.

"Fuck." he grunted into your neck. You took deep breaths as your hand snuck into his hair nails scraping along the bottom of his scalp.

After a moment he pulled out of you and lay beside you. His hand reached your face, thumb caressing your cheek gently. He brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes as he gazed lovingly at you.

"Espero no haber sido demasiado duro." (I hope I wasn't too harsh.) His angry tone from earlier was gone and replaced with the gentle voice you loved so much.

"If I knew you'd fuck me like that I would've sat in Jack's box months ago." Carlos groaned and you laughed, enjoying the moment of peace and laughing at the Spaniard's jealously.

"Jack me va a matar" (Jack is going to kill me) the Spaniard chuckled, leaning across the bed to pick up his phone. He returned to his spot next to you, one hand caressing your hip while the other showed you his phone.

Jack: Bro come on? Could you two be any louder?

Carlos let out a hearty laugh and you covered your face with embarrassment. Jack was a good friend of you both and knowing that he had heard everything that had just happened was not something you wanted to think about.

Carlos moved your hands out of your face, holding your cheek and pulling you in to kiss you. His gentle kiss was the opposite of his early mood but he smiled as he pulled away.

"Eres mia" (You're mine), you pecked his lips softly, looking into the brown eyes you loved so much.

"Yours."


Tags
3 months ago

When is deal part 3 coming pls

I swear I’m writing it 😂 my actual work just got on top of me a bit - expect it in the next few days!!


Tags
3 months ago

How are you holding up after IW CUZ FOR THE LIFE OF ME I CANNOT

I truly believed we were so back, his form through most of IW was soooo good.

The draper game was actually embarrassing. That first set had me actually in shock. Like Carlos I love you but WHAT WAS THAT!!

But everyone has off days I want to believe that this is all this was. that’s MY bozo you know 😞 so we’ll get them next time?

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unforced3rr0r - UnforcedError
UnforcedError

Supporting my bozos on and off court 🎾

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