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Omar fiddled with his phone, swiping across the screen with agitated movements to read Ander’s message for the tenth time in half an hour.
“Come to the court. Watch me practise and after we can hang out 😉 ”
It was that damn winking emoji at the end. Omar knew exactly what Ander had in mind. Ever since that morning at Ander’s house a few weeks ago, the two had enjoyed most of their time together by giving themselves over to carnal pleasures. Still, it made him nervous that they could be caught by their friends or anyone who could possibly tell his father about his trysts with a boy. Omar took a deep breath, mentally berating himself for being anxious. The majority of people surrounding him seemed to be absorbed in their own lives. It wasn’t a big deal. Baba would never find out. He texted back.
“I’m here on the field opposite the court.”
Omar pulled out his headphones from his pockets, putting them in and connecting them to his phone. He settled against his backpack on the grassy field, easily lost in the crowd of students who were sitting in small groups around him. It was the field that was directly adjacent to the Las Encinas tennis court. Through the chain-link fence that bordered one edge of the court, Omar noticed that the coach was pacing up and down, evidently waiting for someone. It was the same someone that Omar was also looking forward to seeing: Ander.
Omar watched as the coach pulled out his phone and dialled on the keypad. He was putting the device to his ear when suddenly, his expression changed, and the hand holding the phone dropped back to his side. Omar’s head swivelled to follow the coach’s gaze as Ander walked onto the court.
To Omar, it seemed like Ander was moving in slow motion. His entire world narrowed down to his boyfriend, his vision focused on Ander’s face. He felt himself smile as he recognised the annoyed scowl that Ander was wearing, and, from his vantage point, he clearly heard the words that Ander shouted at the coach as he walked towards him.
“Did you really need to call me three times in the last five minutes? I told you I would be here, Dad! I had a class before. I had to rush to get changed.”
Ander stopped in front of the coach, his father, and folded his arms in defiance. Even with his face screwed up in irritation, Omar thought Ander was beautiful. Ander was dressed in a simple blue polo t-shirt that fit snugly across his broad chest. The sleeves were short and allowed Omar to appreciate his boyfriend’s lightly muscled upper arms, which were now occupied with tucking Ander’s unruly curls under a hat. Ander was only a head taller than Omar. Yet, the white tennis shorts he was wearing made his legs appear even longer.
“Yes, yes. What matters is that you’re here now. Go warm up!” The coach said, waving his hand dismissively.
Ander shook his head in annoyance. He turned, dropping his lower body into a side lunge. As he moved to repeat the motion on the other side, he allowed himself to gaze out beyond the wire fence. Within seconds, he spotted Omar, who was lounging on the grass and was watching him with great interest. Their eyes met and they exchanged a brief smile. Ander felt the tension leaving his shoulders as he anticipated being with Omar after training. The thought relaxed him, and he was able to complete the next few stretches easily.
The last part of the warm-up was two laps around the court which Ander completed in record time. His father clapped him on the back in congratulations and stopped the hand-held timer he was holding. Ander felt euphoric. He pumped his arms into the air. A small part of him wanted to put on a good show for his boyfriend, and he blushed in spite of himself.
Meanwhile, Omar was enjoying the display of athleticism, just managing to stop himself from openly cheering. He reminded himself that, although Ander’s parents knew about their relationship, his father had not taken kindly to having Omar as a distraction to his son’s tennis career.
Ander was raising one leg at a time into the air and rotating it, along with his hips. Omar’s mouth went dry, his eyes drawn to his boyfriend’s crotch as the movements hitched his pants further up his legs. Ander was conveniently turned to face him as he performed this exercise, his creamy thighs on display. There was no mistaking the smirk on the taller boy’s face. He knew exactly what he was doing. A huff of laughter passed through Omar’s lips and he shook his head exasperatedly at Ander.
When the coach threw a racquet in Ander’s direction, he was forced to stop his teasing. He caught the racquet in one hand and bent to pick up three tennis balls, stowing two of them in his pockets. His father crossed to the opposite end of the field and Ander served all three balls one by one with perfect precision in his direction.
“Bravo, Ander! You’re on fire today!” His father shouted from the other side, pleased. Ander, too, was pleased. He was enjoying the training a lot more than usual, knowing that Omar was close by.
Omar watched happily as Ander and his father began a round of play. Omar was proud of Ander’s progress, despite the frequent complaints he endured from Ander about how much he hated tennis. In fact, his boyfriend seemed to be quite good at the game. Ander was putting his all into his strikes, the fluid movements of his lithe body helping him to nimbly meet and return the ball with his racquet. The coach was in no bad shape himself, managing to keep up remarkably well with his son.
It crossed Omar’s mind that Ander was not the only tennis player at the school. He wondered if the other kids enjoyed this much individual attention, or if it was down to the fact that Ander’s dad was the coach, and his mother was the principal. Still, Omar mused, it was for the best, since the two boys would have access to the private showers and changing room reserved for the coach. Ander had ensured that this would be the last session his father would have for the day and so, the elder man would likely depart from the field and drive straight home to shower and change. Ander, meanwhile, would stay behind, on the guise of having to meet up with classmates to execute a group project.
It was the perfect ruse. Omar had to hand it to his boyfriend. He lit up a cigarette, puffing on it slowly as his thoughts strayed to the last time Ander had executed a similar plan. Knowing that the house would be empty for the first half of the day, Ander had invited Omar over. The two boys had spent that morning in Ander’s bed, giving in to passionate caresses and kisses. Omar clearly recalled the way Ander’s breathing sounded close to his ears and the bruises Ander’s fingers had left on his hips. Omar could feel his body reacting to the memories, his jeans becoming tight and constrictive. With difficulty, he forced himself to refocus on the present game, which was still in full swing. He hoped that the time would pass by quickly.
***
Ander kept stealing surreptitious glances over to where Omar was seated as he continued to play against his dad. He wished that the session would be over soon. It had only been a few days since the two boys had been alone together but, to Ander, it felt a lot longer. He had quietly admitted to himself that he was smitten with Omar. Thoughts of his boyfriend occupied his every waking thought: his crooked smile, his shrewd eyes, his warm hugs.
The constant physical exertion made Ander feel exhilarated. When his father finally announced that he was pleased with the progress they had made for the day, Ander’s excitement doubled. He watched as his father collected the racquets and balls and his gym bag, before nodding in Ander’s direction.
“I’ll see you at home, Ander. Good luck with the project,” said the coach.
Ander reached down to pick up a water bottle, replying, “Thanks, Dad.”
His father left the field and Ander put the bottle to his lips. He waited a beat and then turned around and raised both hands to wave at Omar. Omar grabbed his bookbag and began to walk to where Ander was pointing. Ander walked ahead of him, disappearing into an entrance at the end of the field.
Omar had barely arrived at the darkened entrance to the long hallway that led to the changing rooms when he felt hands on his collar pulling him in against a solid body. Ander’s lips met his and suddenly Omar became hyper-aware of Ander, his scent, the softness of his lips, and the firm slide of his hands around Omar’s waist. He automatically returned the kiss, reaching to wrap a hand around the back of Ander’s neck.
“Come,” Ander told him when they broke apart, lacing the fingers of one hand with Omar’s.
Omar followed him until they were in a low-ceilinged room that was lit with glaring lights made brighter by the white tiles that covered the walls. Omar deposited his bookbag on a nearby bench and turned around to see that Ander was hastily removing his t-shirt. He grinned at Omar, and crossed to him, pinning him against the wall and kissing him hard.
Omar let out a breathy sigh and then Ander’s tongue was sweeping his mouth and Ander put a knee between Omar’s legs, pressing ever so slightly. Omar broke the kiss to suck in a breath, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. This gave Ander room to attack his neck with biting nips and kisses, before he pulled off Omar’s shirt, along with the fitted t-shirt he wore underneath.
“I can see you missed me,” Omar told the other boy, his eyes alight with amusement. He put a hand on Ander’s bare chest, spreading his fingers wide in a caress.
Ander looked down at Omar’s hand and then back into his boyfriend’s eyes. He wet his lips and replied earnestly, “Miss you every day. You’re the only person I want to be with.”
Omar barely had time to process the weight of Ander’s words before Ander was pressing his body against him again and pushing him against the nearest wall. With sure hands, Ander undid the buckle of Omar’s belt and stuck his hand down the inside of Omar’s trousers, palming his boyfriend’s hard cock. The contact made Omar moan with pleasure.
“Guess you missed me, too,” Ander teased. He had a smirk on his face that Omar didn’t hesitate to kiss away. Ander’s mouth connected with his in a messy kiss that was only serving to make Omar want more. His hand continued to stroke at Omar. Before long, Omar divested himself of the rest of his clothes and moved to help Ander do the same. When he got to Ander’s tennis shorts, he paused, looking up at the other boy.
“Watching you play tennis in these was such a turn on, you have no idea,” Omar said.
Ander clicked his tongue and smiled at Omar, distracting the other boy from his task. Omar dropped a kiss onto Ander’s shoulder, tracing his tongue along the collarbone under the thin silver necklace adorning Ander’s neck. Ander’s head tilted back and Omar took the opportunity to nip at his Adam’s apple. He flipped them around so that Ander was now the one with his back against the wall.
Omar pulled off the tennis shorts, and Ander’s underwear along with it. He dropped to his knees and intentionally grazed his beard against Ander’s lower belly. The stubble against the soft skin left red marks that pleased Omar. He pressed light kisses across Ander’s abdomen, ignoring the other boy’s obvious erection and not letting up until he could hear Ander’s breathing growing erratic.
“Don’t tease, Omar. I’ve waited too long for you.” Ander’s deep voice sounded breathless and it made Omar even more aroused.
He finally grasped Ander’s cock and wrapped his lips around the head. Spurred on by Ander’s hand on the back of his neck, Omar used his tongue and lips to thoroughly pleasure his boyfriend. His eyes closed of their own accord as he savoured the taste and feel of Ander once again. A few days had really been too long since he last had him. He worked his mouth up and down, filing away all the sensations in his memory bank. At nights, after the store was shut up, and his entire family was asleep, Omar would go to the bathroom and relive these heated moments alone. He would never get enough of the thickness of Ander and the barely audible needy noises he made when Omar was sucking him off like this.
Ander made one of those strangled noises then and reached down to haul Omar up and manhandle him so that Omar’s front was pressed against the wall. The coolness of the tile against Omar’s hot skin was a welcome relief. Ander crowded in against him, speaking lowly into Omar’s ear and running large hands down against Omar’s ass. Two of Ander’s fingers dipped in between to rub slightly and Omar gasped in anticipation.
“God, Omar, your mouth. It’s too much. Did you bring...?” Before he could finish the question, Omar was turning around to look for his discarded backpack.
He unzipped a small compartment and produced condoms and lube, offering them to Ander. Ander deftly put on the condom and then he was pushing Omar’s body against the wall and making him spread his legs apart. Omar felt Ander’s naked skin on his back and Ander’s fingers, coated in lube, entering him two at a time, teasing apart the tight ring of muscle. He heard Ander murmuring words of encouragement – “So good for me, Omar. You’re so fucking hot like this” – could feel the way Ander was working him open carefully like he was fragile even though he knew they both wanted it so bad that neither of them would last very long.
Omar arched his back and he felt Ander put his free hand around his throat, forcing his body into a tighter bend and pulling Omar’s head back so that their lips could meet. Ander kissed him breathless as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock inside of Omar. The first slide in had them panting, with Ander dropping his forehead between Omar’s shoulder blades to momentarily catch his breath.
Before long, though, Ander responded only to the pure need coursing through his body. With each thrust in, Omar’s moans grew louder, echoing in the empty room. He was soon chanting Ander’s name as his boyfriend fucked him hard and fast. Ander’s hips were moving quickly and his hands were spreading Omar apart so that he could get deeper deeper deeper. The air around them was stifling but Omar kept turning his head to demand Ander’s tongue against his, to demand more of the feeling of Ander moving inside him, to demand that this never end. Ander’s hands on his hips were punishing, his fingers splayed against Omar’s sharp hipbones, wanting to get as far inside as he could.
Ander moaned as he covered his boyfriend’s back with his upper body. Omar shook sweat out of his eyes and braced himself with his two hands against the tiles, spreading his legs even wider apart. Ander’s thrusts grew more erratic and he could feel the coil of arousal burn low in his stomach. He reached around to wrap a hand around Omar’s cock, working him in long strokes. It didn’t take long for Ander to surrender to the feeling of Omar’s tightness, his mouth open in a silent scream as he finished. He kept the rhythm for Omar, pulling him off in time with the thrusts.
When Omar came, it felt like he was riding a wave that would nearly drown him. He almost couldn’t catch his breath and all he was conscious of was the one word that left his mouth in a drawn-out whimper: “Anderrrr.”
When he turned around, his legs felt weak. Ander was there supporting his weight, feathering open-mouthed kisses along Omar’s eyebrows. He helped him to sit on a nearby bench and both boys silently put on their trousers.
“Let’s do this every day,” Omar said, his voice sounding far away to his own ears in his daze.
Ander regarded him fondly, his pink lips curved into a sweet smile. Omar closed the space between them to capture Ander’s mouth in another kiss. Ander’s hands came up to frame Omar’s face and they spent a few moments just enjoying each other like that, their lips meeting again and again, their heads tilting at different angles, their noses bumping. It was enough to stop time. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not their parents, not tennis, not school, not homework. Only that they were together, there and then. And it was worth every risk and every lie to be together.