ALWAYS THERE || CA

Pictures of Carlos you haven’t seen before because I TOOK THEM!

5 heart attacks, 20 swear words, and 50 pleads later. CARLOS WINS!!! thank god for that.

THE DEAL || CA

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part 1 of ??

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 when it's too?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of asshole Carlos

a/n: this is going to be a series, I’m excited about it!! Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be on the taglist!

MASTERLIST

Being Carlos Alcaraz's PR manager was not for the weak. The job description seemed like it would be a breeze and when your boss had suggested switching F1 drivers for tennis players you really believed you’d be getting the quieter deal.

You’d occasionally watched tennis and it seemed the biggest issue you’d face was a broken racquet.

Carlos should’ve been even easier, he didn’t have a girlfriend and never seemed to be pictured with any women so the most frustrating part of the job was gone.

But Carlos didn’t want a PR manager. He certainly didn’t want a PR manager that was his age telling him what to do and how to act.

The first time you met you thought you’d caught him on a bad day not recognising the cold brown eyes stare watching you.

You’d prepared for your job, watching interviews and clips of Carlos before you started and the arms crossed man that soon in front of you was not the ball of sunshine from the videos you’d seen.

You had to admit you’d been looking forward to the job at first, a funny, charismatic, attractive tennis player should’ve been fun. You’d seen the way Carlos treated him like family and you were expecting the same attitude.

But quickly things turned. You’d watch training frequently, observing from the sidelines picking up the terms and technical parts of his game for notes and interviews.

Carlos would be laughing with Juan Carlos or his brother or one of the other members of his team when his eyes would meet yours.

In a second his eyes would go from lighting up to narrowing in on you, his laugh disappearing and posture going rigid.

At first, it was manageable, your job could mostly be done from a distance and you could deal with hardened stares.

You thought it would be temporary, that once he realised you were here to stay you’d finally get to meet the Carlos everyone else did.

But it seemed with every interaction his facade grew. A team dinner after Turin you just so happened to be on the furthest end of the table, and while Carlos took the time to talk to his entire team you found yourself left out of the conversation.

Juan Carlos spent months reassuring you that Carlos would get over it but the winter break was ending and with a new season on the horizon you didn’t know how much more you could take.

You were starting to get exhausted by Carlos constantly making your life more difficult.

You were missing deadlines because he wouldn’t give you answers to questions, doing damage control when he posted near nudes on the internet and made sure reporters didn’t piss him off with dumb questions.

Every week that went by you slowly lost the confident attitude the team had got used to seeing, quietly sat in the corner working away rather that trying to involved.

Juan Carlos had noticed the shift in demeanour but he feared there wasn’t much he could do. It was between you and Carlos to figure out.

...

It was the weekend before the Australian Open when you were ready to snap.

The time difference was rough, with your eyelids feeling heavy but sleep escaping you. You sat surrounded by work that you needed to done, while your room called your name.

The day had already been too long, landing in Australia at seemingly the crack of dawn when you realised your bags hadn’t made it to Australia with you.

You’d spent three hours arguing with airport staff when you decided to give up and hope they found their way to the hotel.

You went straight to watching Carlos train, taking media photos and organising some content for the day. That in itself was excruciating as everything you asked him to do took ten times longer than it should’ve.

But now you were sat in your hotel, tired and drained and desperately needing a change of clothes.

You were trying to organise Carlos' media plan for the first week of the tournament, but trying to get him to respond to any of your messages was infuriating.

You needed his answers to the pre-planned questions so you could check them over and give him some nice talking points about off-season but every time you checked your messages you were met with 'delivered'.

It wasn't late, but the jetlag was beginning to hit you which was feeding into your anger. Every second that Carlos ignored your messages was a second you were missing sleep.

Just as you were ready to give up assuming he’d gone to sleep, you received a notification that he’d posted on his Instagram story. That was your last straw.

You audibly groaned, slamming your laptop shut and storming out of your room with it under your arm. You marched yourself to the elevator angrily tapping your foot as the elevator seemed to move at the slowest pace ever.

The ding echoed in your brain, and as you stepped out you were hit with a new wave of anger. You heard his dumb laugh echoing through the walls. This dumb, annoying, stupid tennis player was laughing while you had been begging for him to respond to a simple message.

You stormed down the hall, your chest angrily pounding. You were at the end of your tether. You were so tired of dealing with this man baby.

It had been months of being ignored, ostracised and treated like you had some kind of contagious disease and you were over it.

You stood before his door and knocked repeatedly. You heard him call out that he was coming and you prepared yourself to greet him.

The door swung open, a cheesy grin on his face as he turned see who was at the door. The second he clocked you it faded and was replaced with a nonchalant stare.

He opened his mouth no doubt to ask why you were here but you pushed past him into the hotel room. Juan Carlos and a few other members of the team were in the room and immediately as they saw you they went silent.

"if you wouldn't mind. Alcaraz and I need to get some work done and clearly, he can't handle any distractions." A few of the guys snickered and they didn’t waste any time standing up and heading for the door.

You heard Juan Carlos wish the Spaniard luck as he walked past. Laughing as he patted him on the back. The door closed and Carlos scoffed as you situated yourself on his sofa.

"¿Qué carajo?" (What the fuck?) The Spaniard's tone made you laugh, a dry, fed-up kind of laugh.

"What the fuck indeed. Sit down, shut up and only talk when I tell you to." He looked at you utterly bewildered.

"You know you're supposed to work for me? not the other way around." God you wanted to kill him. You stood up angrily turning to face him with fire in your eyes.

"Funnily enough, that is what I'm trying to do. That is what I have been trying to do for months but for some reason you want to make that as hard as humanly possible for me. Frankly, I'm fed up so sit the fuck down. please."

"No." He stood his ground and crossed his arms as you really considered attacking him.

"I'm sorry what?"

"I don't want to." He turned to head to the small kitchenette, turning on the coffee machine that sent an infuriating buzz throughout the room.

“I don’t want to be stood here, but because you can’t answer a simple text, I am. So please let me do my goddamn job for once.” He scoffed, and leaning against the counter,

“Maybe I didn’t answer your text because I don’t want to answer the questions, ever thought about that?” His stupid grin made you want to throttle him.

"Well Carlos Alcaraz, the almighty. Unfortunately for you I need those answers so how do I get you to sit there and answer these dumb questions." your sarcasm permeated the room.

He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation as he reached for the mug on the side. He turned slowly to face you, a look of pure genius on his face.

"Quit." He moved around the counter calmly, standing in front of you. You hadn’t been this close to the Spaniard since the day you met him.

The invisible 3 feet rule seemingly being implemented by him after the first day.

"What?" Your confusion clearly entertained him as he smiled an evil, sort of confronting smile.

"I'll do what you want for the entire tournament. But at the end of it, you quit." You paused, the tension from the last few months piling up on your shoulders. Did he really hate you that much?

You weren't a quitter, you believed in working hard and figuring out issues. But Carlos had been treating you like an outcast for months and if it meant never having to deal with him again you were seriously considering it.

"One question?" Carlos raised his eyebrow and he zoned in on your focused demeanor.

"seguir." (go on.)

"Why do you hate me so much?" His calm demeanour faltered slightly, something flashing through his gaze that you couldn't quite decipher before it was quickly replaced with indifference.

He grabbed the mug, and moved to the sofa, lazily sitting down. His arm rested along the back and he glanced up at you.

"I don't need a PR manager and I'm sick of you treating me like a child when you're my age." The answer nipped at the back of your brain. You rarely treated him like less that he deserved and if you did it was only ever in retaliation.

"Maybe if you acted your age I wouldn't have to." He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance.

"It's clear you don't want to be here either, just take the deal." You dropped yourself onto the sofa. Your laptop sat beside you and you let your head fall into your hands. You were defeated.

"I wanted to be here." You didn’t look up but if you had you would’ve seen Carlos’ gaze soften, a pang of guilt hitting him before it was quickly shoved away.

You thought back to your previous job. Travelling the world with F1 drivers had been difficult but those guys had become your friends, you loved your job and you had fun. You wanted this to be like that but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

Maybe it was time for you to find something else.

“Fine you win.” You let your hands fall to your sides, your gaze lifting and meeting the brown eyes that made your life a misery.

"I'll quit at the end of the tournament, but you have to give full energy to everything and I need a pair of pyjamas, my luggage got lost.” His eyes lit up with some sort of amusement. At your troubles or you’d you were sure but you needed a solution and he offered one.

Carlos smirked, the first time he'd even remotely smiled in your direction. He moved himself within touching distance of you, reaching out his hand for you to shake.

You interlocked your hand with his, his eyes baring down on you.

"Deal."

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taglist: @champagnecoastca

hey!! I don’t mean to pressure you or anything, but I just wanted to say I looove The Deal series and (if you plan on continuing it) am very much looking forward to part 4 !!

Omg I swear I will be back I’ve just had all my uni assignment due dates!! So I’ve been swamped but I will be back soon I promise 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

Did he….hear me?

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?

Is this not just the love island intros??

"READY FOR THEIR CLOSE-UP 😎"

ARYNA SABALENKA [BLR] • CARLOS ALCARAZ [ESP] • COCO GAUFF [USA] • TAYLOR FRITZ [USA] • ZHENG QINWEN [CHN] • JANNIK SINNER [ITA] • IGA ŚWIĄTEK [POL] • JESSICA PEGULA [USA] • DANIIL MEDVEDEV [RUS] • ONS JABEUR [TUN] • ELENA RYBAKINA [KAZ] • NOVAK DJOKOVIĆ [SRB] || INDIAN WELLS PROMO || 02 06 2025

WIDE AWAKE || CA

summary: Carlos Alcaraz survived a gruelling five-setter to win his second Roland Garros title, he should be exhausted, but suddenly he has more energy and a few ideas on how to celebrate.

warning: smut, diabolical smut, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: He won. From two sets down. Three championship points saved. I've never been so in love. So a gift to everyone...Carlos x Roland Garros smut

Your hands were shaking. The heat in Paris had quickly faded with the afternoon, instead making way for a gruelling chill which left everyone around you to put on layers and pull out blankets.

But you were sweating. Every nerve ending over your body was alight, and every serve, rally and drop shot had you catching your breath.

Carlos was losing. The first set had been slow, but it was a decisive win from Jannik. The second, Carlos clawed back. No doubt the state that he'd never won from two sets down racing through his mind.

But it wasn't enough. After a painful tie-break, Jannik took the second set and Carlos was looking at a long and hard fight to taking back to back Roland Garros titles.

You were sat behind Juan Carlos, next to his parents. This was only your second slam, sat in Carlos' box, but it was your first final. Carlos glanced over between points, a quiet 'vamos' leaving his lips with each point won and soft murmurs to himself when he conceded.

You tried to conceal the diabolical nerves on your face throughout the match, putting on a beaming smile every time you caught your boyfriend's eye.

Then he won a set. The dream was alive again, and you watched as the energy shifted in the box. Juan Carlos sat up and alongside his parents you stood and cheered when hit the winner in the third set. But it was far from over.

Three championship points. Jannik had three championship points standing between him and a first Roland Garros title. But Carlos wasn't ready to give up.

Your chest was tight, the silence in the arena was suffocating. You were scared even to breath.

One championship point saved.

A sigh of relief, and cheers from the crowd.

A second championship point saved.

Waves of Carlos' name flooded the air, a soft grin making its way onto your face.

A third championship point saved.

He lived. The entire audience erupted, and you couldn't help but join them. On your feet, clapping for your boyfriend as if it would push him to the end of the match.

He looked up and grinned, his smile sending flutters to your stomach. He could do it, He nodded with his arm up and you both knew, this was his game now.

It wasn't easy from there, far from it. Dragging the final set to a tie-break.

A mini break. Carlos' mum grabbed your hand, her gaze a silent support as you both held your breath.

Carlos moved across the court like it was subconscious, like it would be more unnatural for him to stand still than hitting shots other players could only dream of.

9-2

You whispered prayers to gods you didn't believe in as Carlos dove on the court, reaching the ball like it was oxygen.

10-2. The crowd erupted and Carlos fell to the floor. Five and a half hours. Doing what the Spaniard had never done before, coming from two sets down to win his fifth grand slam title.

You jumped to your feet, immediately wrapped in the arms of his parents and brothers, jumping up and down as if it was you who had won the title.

You turned back to the court, Carlos eyes gleaming at his box, the smile on his face so large it looked like it might tear his cheeks.

Your hands covered your mouth, laughing with disbelief at the match you'd just watch, and only as your hands grazed your cheeks did you notice you'd been crying.

Tears were streaming down your face, blurring the sight of your boyfriend disappearing into the tunnel to come see his family. To come see you.

The second he emerged, Juan Carlos had him in his arms, your boyfriend folding into his coach as they jumped, both men unable to hide just how much this meant to them.

Carlos fell from JC's arms and turned to his family and team, each member being wrapped in a hug. Then his gaze set on you.

Your tears were still falling when his arms fell around your waist, lifting you into his arms. Your hands cupped his face, pressing your forehead to his. "You did it. My god, you really did it."

He captured your lips in a suffocating kiss, his arms lowering you to the ground to find purchase on your neck. True to Carlos, his tongue slipped against yours, deepening the kiss and pulling a groan from both you and the Spaniard.

The crowed yelled around you, and you pulled away reluctantly from Carlos, a smile still stuck on your face. Just as you went to pull away from the Spaniard, he seized your lips for one final kiss. "Te amo" [I love you]

Carlos lasted half a millisecond once he stepped away from you before he was swarmed by his friends and family, all taking their turn in ruffling his hair and wrapping him in their arms.

You watched as he went back to the court, gazed with nothing but unadulterated love as you watched his hold the trophy.

Time blurred as Carlos was dragged from interview to interview, the smile on his face undeniable. Carlos' family and team joined Carlos on court for photos, the hugs still being shared and tears in his mums eyes.

You hung back, letting them soak in the moment, taking photos you know Carlos would enjoy seeing later.

When the photos were finally over, the Spaniard bounded over to you, his hands planting themselves on either side of your face as he pulled your lips to his.

You couldn't help but giggle at your boyfriend, his lips leaving yours as he peppered kisses aggressively all over your face.

"Carlos!" You laughed, pushing away the Spaniard's puckered lips, his face immediately switched to an overly dramatic frown,

"No puedes ser malo conmigo, gané." [You can't be mean to me, I won]

"This is not mean, we have plenty of time to celebrate," Your hand slipped into his hair at the back of the neck, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, "later...in our hotel room."

You pulled away to catch the glint of something cheeky in Carlos eyes, He shook his head with a smirk on his face.

"You'll be the death of me, Mi amor." His arm slinked around your waist, the heat from the match radiating from the six-foot tennis player.

But the club was calling and Carlos Alcaraz was ready to party.

...

Getting Carlos out of the hotel room and keeping his hands off you was near impossible, his lips meeting your neck, trailing down your shoulder as you put in your earrings.

"Carlos, everyone is waiting for you. We have all night." He groaned into your shoulder, his hips firm against yours, tempting you to fall back into his grasp.

"And if I want to spend all night right here?" His hand slipped between your thighs, the skirt you'd opted for doing nothing to stop his attempt to convince you to spend the foreseeable future in bed.

His fingers moved softly over your underwear, your head fell back against Carlos chest as a soft groan falling from your lips. Just as you were finding your self-control slipping, pushing your hips back against the Spaniard, a knock came at the door.

"Carlitos, Vamos!" [Carlitos, let's go] The familiar tone of Carlos' coach coming from the other side of the door. Carlos groaned, his hand falling from your thighs and finding your arm.

"Joder." [Fuck.] He pressed a kiss to your neck, a silent promise to continue what he started, "en nuestro camino!" [On our way!]

He pulled away from you, a shiver flooding through you at the loss of his body heat. He slipped on his trainers, and you slipped on your kitten heels.

Carlos slipped his hand in with yours, pressing his lips to your forehead and pulling him with you out of the hotel door.

...

The restaurant was packed, the private room filled to the brim with Carlos' friends and family for the second year in a row. The atmosphere was buzzing, and you knew from the moment stepping into the room, it was going to be a long night.

The champagne flowed and music blasted through the speakers as the room had shifted from a celebration room to a makeshift club. Carlos' laugh flooded the room, somehow cutting through the rest of the noise.

You'd be enjoying the music, swaying with some of your friends who had joined you on the trip when you felt heavy hands on your hips, Carlos pulling your hips against his as he moved your hips against his.

You looked back, your eyes catching his, the alcohol fuelled haze left a lopsided grin on the Spaniard's face as his arms slipped under your shirt, his warm hands sliding across your stomach.

You turned in his arms, smiling as the Spaniard immediately pulled you into a messy kiss. Your hands fell to his neck as his hands found purchase on your ass, deepening the kiss as you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled.

For the first time that day, it felt like it was just the two of you, despite being in a packed room. His lips trailed from your cheeks to your ear, each kiss setting your skin alight.

His teeth grazed the spot below your ear, which had you tightening your grip around his hair and a soft groan falling from your lips.

Carlos tightened his grip, pulling you closer into his body, and whispered in your ear, "Nadie se daría cuenta si desapareciéramos." [No one would notice if we disappeared]

You let your head fall onto Carlos' shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck. "This is your celebration, I think they'd miss you."

Carlos grinned, the type of smile that had your stomach fluttering and your thighs clenching out of instinct. His hands, pressed against your skin, travelled up your torso, his thumb brushing the lace edge of the bra you'd slipped on.

"Quiero probar esa teoría," [I want to test that theory] He grabbed you in a bruising kiss, whispering in your ear, "Nos vemos en cinco minutos." [See you in five minutes]

His hand tapped your ass as he pulled away, disappearing into the crowd in what you could only assume was the direction of the bathroom.

Your heart was pounding, the feeling of his hands on your skin burning into you. It wouldn't be the first time Carlos and you had disappeared into a bathroom for a few moments of peace. But it would be the first time next to a room of people celebrating him.

However, you couldnt find it in yourself to stop yourself from moving in the direction of the bathroom, waving off your friends and focusing your mind on the image of Carlos on his knees looking up at you with those big brown eyes.

Not even four minutes later you pushed open the bathroom door, the sight of Carlos leaning up against the sink bringing a grin to your face.

You twisted the lock, and immediately as the click sounded Carlos made a move towards you. His hands reached for your face immediately, kissing you like a man starved.

Your hands slid around his neck and that was all the Spaniard needed, he pulled away, his lips trailing down your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin drawing a whine from you.

His hands slid down yours body finding purchase on your ass and lifting you onto the counter. He wasted no time pushing your skirt up your thighs exposing you lacy underwear that had Carlos swearing under his breath.

"Joder," [fuck] his hands slip up yours thighs, lips meeting the soft skin previous covered by the skirt. He brought his lips back to yours the desperate kiss sending shivers down your spine.

Carlos' hand slipped between your thighs, tracing his fingers softly over your core. "Please Charlie." You whined, his touch bringing out a new kind of desperation.

"What do you want, mi amor?" Your head fell back against the mirror as carlos moved your underwear to the side running his finger through your folds.

"Your hands, please Carlos." As if your words were confirmation his fingers dove into you, curling at the perfect angle.

Your arms shot out bracing themselves on the Spaniards shoulders, gripping his shirt as his fingers moved at a pace which had you back arched and your vision blurring.

"Thought about this since the second I won. How good you'd look falling apart on my fingers, tongue and cock."

You moaned, the words the spaniard uttered going straight to your core. His forehead rested against yours, messingly kissing your boyfriend as his thumb moved lazy circles on your clit.

Every thrust of his fingers pushed you closer to the edge. Carlos added another finger diving deeper with each thrust and capturing your lips between each movement.

The stretch was perfect but nothing compared to how Carlos felt. He sped up his movement over your clit, your moans rising with each brush as you teetered towards the edge.

"Please Carlos, I'm so close." Your begging met with Carlos' fingers curling and hitting the perfect spot.

Carlos attacked your neck with kisses, no doubt leaving marks across them which would result in a turtleneck in the coming days. But he groaned into your ear, "You're going to cum on my fingers like a good girl and then im going to fuck you in this mirror."

His words pushed you over the edge, his name falling from you lips like a prayer as your legs shook around his waist and your vision went white.

Carlos continued moving his fingers through your high, letting your head fall to his chest as sighs racked through your chest as you came down.

But there was no time to recover has Carlos lifted you off the counter, spinning you round to face the wall of mirrors over the sinks.

Carlos stood behind you his hands immediately getting to work on moving your skirt futher out of the way and getting his trousers out of the way.

He kissed your back, "Eres hermosa," [You're beautiful] You turned your head to catch Carlos' lips the angle awkward but worth it. You pushed your hips against Carlos begging for the Spaniard to do something.

"Carlos please, don't tease me." The Spaniard laughed behind you, Lining himself up against you. You whined, and Carlos took the words to heart, pushing into you with one swift thrust.

His forhead fell to your back as you moaned at the feeling of him deep inside you. Carlos allowed you to adjust for a moment before he began moving at a blistering pace.

"Oh fuck, Carlos please." Your begging only incentivised the Spaniard, his hand making harsh contact with your ass, a yelp drawn from you.

"Dios, te sientes tan bien. Podría morir feliz enterrado dentro de ti así." [God, you feel so good. I could die happy buried inside you like this.] Each word egged you on, your stomach pushing against the counter.

The Spaniards hand gropped at your chest, every touch adding to the overwhleming stimulation throughout your body.

Carlos ploughed desperately into you like his life depended on it. Your moans reaching a volume which threatened to draw attention to you.

"Need you to be quiet, mi amor. We don't want JC interupting us." The thought of Carlos' coach catching you like this, bent over a counter being detroy by his star player ignited something in you.

Carlos' hand fell around your mouth, the only way to lower your volume as every thrust seemed to hit deeper inside you.

Carlos' other hand slipped over your stomach tracing tight circles on your clit which had you quickly seeing stars.

"Carlos, shit, fuck, I'm so close." Carlos took your words as a challenge, speed up his thrusts.

"Joder, me too," His hand left your mouth and lifting your chin and gaze to the two of you in the mirror, "I want to see you when you cum."

His words sent a rush to your core, the band that was already so tight, tightening even further.

You watched carlos' brown eyes, His hair tousled and his grunts going straight to your core.

He moved his fingers over your clit faster and you grasped the Spaniard's arm, a warning through your helpless moans that you couldn't hold on much longer.

"Cum for me." His voice was desperate and rugged, and with it you fell over the edge, your second orgasm racking through your body, you hands falling to the counter you body following suit.

You felt Carlos stutter behind you his thrusts faltering as he finished inside you, his hands finding your hips to steady himself as he groaned against your shoulder.

You stayed just like that for a moment, fucked out and in each other's company. Carlos refused to pull away instead grabbing your face to connect your lips. "You're better than any trophy."

He pulled out from you both whining at the loss of contact. He fixed his appearance and fixed your skirt, spinning you back round to face him.

His hands slipped into your now messy hair, a smile beaming on his face.

He may have won Roland Garros but he also won something far more important.

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masterlist

Monte-Carlitos! VAMOS!

GREEN MONSTER || CA

————————————————————————

+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

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."