(matteo vasari x adele carrem - storyscape’s titanic)
wc: 408
dc: just a cute oneshot of adele and matteo playing tennis squash. i just got around to finishing it up. idk rlly know what it is LMAO but enjoy!! i havent written in so long oop
more under the cut :)
“you’ve never played?” matteo asks, presenting a sleek, costly-looking racquet. he places it in my hands and i’m surprised by its lightweight. i admire the intricately tightened strings, grazing my fingernails over the wire.
“i have not,” i say quietly, trying to secure my fingers tightly around the handle, getting into what i assume is playing-position.
“no, no, not like that.” matteo chuckles, his hands press into my hips, straightening me up. i flush at the direct contact, his fingers apply themselves to my forearm, twisting my wrist over to hold the racquet properly. “i’ll teach you, take a step back.”
i do as i’m told, my back bumping into his chest. from my wrist to my elbow goes his hands, angling me into the correct stance. he shows me a proper swing, nose brushing against my shoulder. i stiffen at the touch and the smell of him. cologne, sweet and rich, mixed with sweat.
“think you’ve got it down?”
“yes, i think i’ve got the hang of it.”
i watch him go around, opposite of the court. he holds the ball in his hands, letting it bounce against the ground before hitting it. it flies over the netting, coming straight for me. i lunge towards it, the racquet slams into the ball with force, sending it back towards matteo.
his lip quivers upwards into a grin, leaping forward as he sends it back towards me. i find myself enjoying our ‘match’ thoroughly, even more so when our final score puts me as the winner.
his usual upkeeping of himself is disheveled. his hair, usually slicked, has two strands against his forehead. they curl, the gel losing its hold. his hands are on his knees, steadying his breathing.
i grin, tapping our racquets together. i admire the sight of him like this, undone. his hands go from their knees to around my wrists, fingers gripping. his lips find mine and he kisses me like i’m the breath he’s trying to catch. i press myself into him, forgetting that sneaking into the courts was scandalous enough, much rather making out in one.
when he pulls away and wipes his mouth, he holds his hand out to me. “good game, adele.”
“you simp!” i giggle, “that’s all you have to say?”
“yeah, yeah, let us leave before we get caught.”
with one last sweet kiss, and a sweeter victory, we’re out the door and onto the rest of the titanic.
