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Title: Comfort

Characters: Gilles Simon/ Rafael Nadal

Rating: NC-17 (just in case)

Disclaimer: I don't own them duh!

Warning: we are a community that enjoys slash, right? :P

Summary: Takes place after Gilles' 3rd round loss at the BNP Paribas Masters to Andy Roddick.

Author's Notes: Inspired by Gilles' win over Rafael Nadal at Madrid. This is my first fic, so please forgive any illogical plot holes and such!!! (But don't forget to point out any flaws in your comments, thanks!)

30th October, 2008

"Hey Gilles."

Gilles Simon turned around to find four time French Open champion Rafael Nadal standing just inside the locker room door.

"Oh, hi Rafael." There was a sharp edge to the Frenchman's voice, and Rafael picked it up immediately. Gilles was usually friendlier than this - but of course, he had just lost to Andy Roddick, with a score of 6-3, 7-5. He had had 4 break points, but failed to convert a single one of them. Shanghai had been so close, so close and now it was slipping away from him.

Rafael plopped down on the bench besides Gille and patted his shoulders lightly. Gilles hadn't changed out of his sweat-soaked shirt yet, and Rafael was dressed in jeans and a graphic tee and smelling of soap, but Rafael sensed that Gilles needed someone to just sit beside him and say nothing.

"You know, Roddick sucks big time on clay. You could probably beat him if you meet him in Madrid next year, no?"

That finally elicited some laughter from Gilles. He was so relieved that finally, someone could talk to him without being overly sympathetic and not give any more "motivating" words that he didn't really need to hear.

"Thanks, Rafael." Gilles glanced at Rafael, who was smiling away.

"You're welcome, Gilles..." Rafael hands reached lower, around Gilles' waist to give him a comforting squeeze.

Suddenly, Gilles felt that the space between him and the Spaniard had become shrunk just a bit too much. He realized that his hands were clammy - he was breathing in Rafael's scent, feeling the warmth of his muscular chest...

OH MY GOD, what the hell am I thinking? Rafael is just my friend, I can't be thinking such thoughts of him, I can't...

Gilles' train of thought was cut short when Rafael's lips suddenly came crashing down upon his. Gilles was initially shocked but gave in to the Spaniard's relentless attack. A moan escaped from the Frenchman's throat as Rafael's hot tongue started exploring the crevices of his mouth.

As the kiss got deeper, Gilles started raking his hands through Rafael's soft brown locks as Rafael pulled them even closer.

Rafael had already started working on Gilles' earlobe. It was like a live wire passing a current through Gilles' body when Rafael's silky tongue probed his ear... Gilles tightened his grip on the Spaniard's hair as his body tensed up at the heat coursing through his veins . Rafael's deft fingers, those fingers that executed those delicate volleys and drop shots, were now making their way up Gilles' shirt, pinching his nipples and caressing his abdomen... 

Now Rafael's hands were pressing lightly against his spine, eliciting even louder moans from the Frenchman. One touch of Rafael's calloused hands left Gilles coated in a thin sheen of sweat, letting him feel as if he were in a blazing fire or in a tubful of ice water all at the same time...

Rafael pulled away.

Gilles sat there, trembling all over, and tried to catch his breath. He stared at the new world no.1, a slightly bewildered look on his face.

Why did Rafael....?

"I knew it would make you feel better." Rafael just smiled enigmatically, as if he had read Gilles' mind.

 

"Don't worry about Shanghai, Gilles. You'll get there."

With that, Rafael just straightened his clothes and strode out of the locker room, leaving a confused, flustered and slightly (sexually) frustated Gilles Simon sitting on the bench.

Later

 
"Finally, he's here!" The other Spaniards had been waiting for Rafael so that they could go to dinner.
"Did you find your watch?" Fernando Verdasco asked. Rafael didn't reply - he seemed to be staring off into space.

"Hello, Earth to Rafael!" Feliciano Lopez waved a hand in front of Rafael. Rafael seemed to come out of his trance and blinked his eyes.

"Oh, I think I lost it for good," Rafael just replied absent-mindedly.

"And why are you so sweaty anyway?"

"Ummm... it was... hot in there."

In the locker room

 
Gilles stared at the watch on the floor.

"Vamos Rafa" was etched across the back of it.

Good, now I have a reason to look for him.

 

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