Subject: Premiership Lads part 128: The Gooseberry Part 128: The Gooseberry The whistle blew on full time and Luke Shaw slowed his loping jog down the pitch, grinding the studs of his boots into the turf and bringing himself to a disappointed pause. 1-1. A draw wasn’t a disaster against the ambitious London side, but it was a disappointing start to this short last campaign, and the stocky young defender could feel the burn of it in every muscle. Instinctively, he turned in what should be the direction of the home fans’ stand, ready to raise his hands and clap appreciatively at their following; but no, the stands were empty, the stadium was almost eerie above the 22 breathless men who had just finished playing, this was the `new normal’, as they kept calling it. Panting for breath, Shaw clapped his hands nonetheless, looking about him as the Spurs players began to withdraw to their half of the pitch and vice versa — limited contact and celebrating from anyone, the 24-year-old noted, more reminders of strange circumstances. He let his eye rove critically over the wiped out Tottenham players, eyeing them up in a way that was not totally sports-related; he gave respectful nods to the couple of them passing by him on their way to their teammates, noting the way their white shirts clung to their physiques, bared legs gleaming with sweat. It was harder and harder not to look at footballing men like this, now his eyes were opened to it, and he had to stare himself giving a particularly lusty stare to the other side’s tall broad midfielder, Eric Dier, on his way past; a contradictory man, so rugged in appearance but gentlemanly in manner. Luke had enjoyed sharing an England squad with him on several occasions. But he pulled his lusty eyes away from the other team and drifted in towards the other Man United fellas instead, still idly clapping his hands together for an audience that weren’t present. It was late, the drawn game had been intense, and the full 90 minute shift burnt at his legs and chest as he lumbered into line with the other men, some much fresher from late substitution; they mingled with the subs and coaches and spilled over the white lines towards the dugout and tunnel. Luke panted after them, pulling at the neck of his United shirt to waft his chest and neck. Ahead, the team’s skipper was doling out manly claps to the shoulder and tight handshakes, deep respectful nods to each player. Maguire could hide his personal frustrations well, Luke noted, he could put on a professional face and seem more composed than he was feeling; he knew the big man would regret much of his sloppy defending there. Luke wasn’t critical of his defensive (and otherwise) partner, but he’d seen errors and he knew Maguire’s self-critical nature too well. He was struck with a fresh annoyance that he wouldn’t be easily able to intervene and soothe those criticisms tonight himself. Pulling closer and grabbing hands with the captain for a moment, it wasn’t any empathetic desire to comfort that brought the next pang of annoyance. No, just pure lust. Big tall Harry, his hair slicked back with sweat, his face set with warlike determination even now the whistle had blown, baggy kit doing nothing to hide his imposing physique. Luke grinned knowingly at him over the curt handshake, regretting that he couldn’t just get on his knees and worship him right here… But the mill of tired players moved on, and he stomped off the pitch like everyone else, exhausted, but very glad to be back in the Premiership life, ready to steal a victory next time… At the hotel, it was a case of straight to rooms, and there was no boyish complaint over these instructions: everyone who’d played was fucking knackered. Luke just gave one wistful look over the assembly at the tall Yorkshireman he’d like to be curled up with, and entered the lift with his replacement roommate instead, headed for the 5th floor of the tall North London hotel they were occupying for the night. Beside him, Brandon Williams scowled, arms folded and lip set in this sulky expression. Luke turned and looked sympathetically at the younger player. `He’s just holding you back for the next game, mate,’ he said softly. `Think about it. Little rest between matches. Makes sense to keep a young gun fresh; it’ll be me on the bench next time.’ The 19-year-old shot him a frowning look, clearly feeling patronised, but after a moment it melted and he nodded uncertainly. It could be tense between them, in theory, as two men sharing the same left-back position in the Red Devils squad, but their early friendship had blossomed over months, especially with the aid of a couple of shared secrets. Luke smiled reassuringly at the hot-headed little defender, and reached over to pat his back twice. The lift doors opened and the pair headed out onto their floor, Brandon muttering to himself and Luke checking the door number on their keyring. Their bags had already been brought up to the small twin room, and Luke didn’t even bother fussing with any of his belongings. He shoved the kit bag off the bottom of the small double bed and began to undress, quite looking forward to hitting the soft hotel mattress and being allowed a slight lie-in tomorrow before their journey north. Still fresh from the stadium showers, he wriggled out of his black polo shirt and tracksuit bottoms, down to the bulging green briefs he’d changed into, only half-listening to young Brandon’s critical analysis of why United hadn’t secured a win. Williams stopped scowling and complaining long enough to look his way, and paused with his eyes on him, chewing idly at a thumbnail. Then he gave a scoffing laugh and made a little whistling noise. `Ooh err, Luke Shaw in his pants,’ the young Manc lad mocked more cheerily, stood beside his bed in the middle of going through his small luggage. Luke rolled his eyes. `Fuck off buddy,’ he said simply, made self-conscious by the half-joking attention. He was much more body confident than he’d been in recent years, when shitty papers had tried to `fat shame’ the well-built defender with holiday pictures and the like, but he still felt chunky compared to a whippet like Brandon, and the knowledge of their past intimacy hung delicately in the banter. `Seriously,’ muttered Williams with a sneering expression that didn’t match his tender tone, `you’re looking good, bro.’ And with that he lost interested, rifling through his bag for headphones and ignoring his roommate. Shaw laughed hesitantly and turned away from him, padding across to the bathroom on his own. He checked himself out a little in the bathroom mirror, the sturdy breadth of his shoulders and the fine growth of golden-brown hair between his softly defined pecs, the thickness of his torso and the fullness of his briefs. He grinned at his own face, noting the slow growth of his pale brown hair and the neat trim of his beard; he felt like he looked a lot older, but perhaps no less handsome? Who knew? He took a piss, brushed his teeth, fussed with a bit of moisturiser, and headed to bed. Brandon was still dressed in tshirt and baggy tracksuit bottoms, lying in bed on top of the covers, staring intently at his phone, his thumbs moving rapidly in the distinctly teenage pace of text messaging. Luke climbed into the parallel bed with a sleepy sigh, glad of the huge soft pillows behind him as he settled quietly in. `Jesus,’ he said to Brandon, `you make me feel old, the way you’re on your phone… I can hardly bear to look at mine at this time…’ He chuckled faintly to himself and got comfortable. Luke looked about the hotel room and, again, couldn’t help but harbour a few minutes’ resentment: he’d been looking forward to a shared room with Harry for a few weeks, given that they hadn’t been able to share a bed properly since that one heated night of inversion after Lingard’s scheme was foiled. He’d casually assumed their increasingly normal room-sharing from the beginning of the year could be resumed, forgetting it was all laid out by the management team, and taken for granted that the Spurs game tonight would be followed by nocturnal comforts, win lose or draw. Still, he agreed with Harry: now was not the time for recklessness, or complacency. This thing that they had was still a fragile secret and they both had more than ever to lose if it was discovered. He glanced across the room to Brandon, who still had his nose buried in the glowing screen of his smart-phone and gave in to the same urge. Shaw sighed some vague defeat to the demands of the modern world and leaned out of the bed to fetch up his phone from the pants on the floor, climbing under the covers before (disappointedly) checking for some contact from Maguire: nothing. He took his time composing a little goodnight message, put off by the pace and fury of Williams’ messaging a few metres away in the other bed. He supposed Brandon was probably texting Mason too, but he might not be. In theory, the young defender still had a girlfriend too, Luke was pretty sure. The observation brought a regular pang of guilt to him, and he abandoned the message to Harry to text the mother of his child instead, which was quicker and easier. Less loaded. `Mate,’ said Brandon now, finally looking up form his phone, lying on his side a little, `erm…’ He said it in the heavy, forcedly casual manner that usually preceded a favour. Luke hit send on the message to his partner and looked thoughtfully across the gap in beds to his fellow left-back. `Erm, you mind if Mase pops by for a wee bit — just for a bit before we hit the hay?’ Williams knitted his dark brows and pulled at his long blond fringe, staring apologetically across, a teenager asking adult permission, not a professional athlete away for work. Luke smiled fondly at this, though he couldn’t help but glance at his rose gold watch and note just how late it was now. `You don’t have to ask me,’ he said comfortably, `but yeah, sure… he’s just on the next corridor or summat, right…?’ He watched as Williams immediately turned back to his phone, lightning quick in reeling off confirmation of whatever little plan he was concocting. `Will only be quick. Just hanging out a bit. Before bed. Erm.’ He didn’t look up as he spoke, and Luke detected the coyness in his speech and in his eyes. He smiled and nodded, mostly to himself. So, he thought, things are mersin escort getting that serious between them — or that cute, at least. He couldn’t wipe the slightly condescending grin off his face, and went back to that `goodnight’ message to Maguire: `wish we were sharing a room lol — but never mind. C u at brekky. Make plans soon. hard game 2night. Xx’ Send. He waited for an answer that didn’t come, surmised that Maguire was possibly already asleep. Luke locked the screen and drummed his thumbs at it idly, realising Brandon had got up from his bed to use the bathroom; he could hear the buzz of his electric toothbrush. Over that dulled noise, he also heard the tentative tap and scrape of someone at the hotel room door. He hopped out of bed and, for a moment, felt the need to yank his top back on or pull up some tracky bottoms, but what was the point? Instead, the broad defender made his way to the door and unlocked it, opening it an inch to check it was indeed Mason Greenwood, then stepped aside to let him in. `Hey,’ he said lightly, grinning at the boyish excitement of the 18-year-old striker sidling into their hotel room; immediately, Greenwood looked him up and down, seeming alarmed by his lack of clothes, but also… appreciative? Luke stood squarely by the door, feeling he’d moved from casual to exhibitionist rather fast there, and a bit embarrassed. `Er, hey, is Brandon…’ `Here!’ came Williams’ voice through a mouthful of toothpaste. `Ah. Cool.’ Mason was still looking at him, a goofy smile lighting his features, pawing at the long white vest that clung to his lean torso above a pair of baggy grey pyjama shorts, long brown legs on show. `Tough game, right?’ he said conversationally. `Tough 90 minutes,’ Shaw pointed out quietly with a competitive edge to his friendly tone. He’d played an exhausting full game, Greenwood had contributed to the final third. The younger lad just laughed off this point with a nod and they both grinned. Brandon was emerging from the bathroom, an adorable white toothpaste stain on the left side of his pointy chin, his eyes immediately lighting up at their room visitor’s presence. Luke, feeling suddenly like a big naked gooseberry, slid out of their way and back towards his bed, tuning out the nervous tremor in the quiet dialogue of `Hey’, `Hey’, `Err…’, `Erm…’ going on behind him. He ignored the teenagers as best he could, picking up his phone and relaxing onto the tangle of his duvet, checking for the sweet reply from Harry that wasn’t there, guiltily laughing at a string of messages back from his actual girlfriend. He tried to zone out of the murmured conversation of Mason and Brandon sat on the other bed, unable to stop himself seeing from the corner of his eye the tender way Greenwood laid his hands on Brandon’s narrow shoulders and nuzzled at him as they chatted. He heard Greenwood give the same conciliatory advice he had, that their manager was just saving the speedy defender for the next game, and amusedly heard Williams readily accept this answer, nodding along and stroking his hand a little at the other lad’s thigh, where his pyjama shorts rode up towards his crotch. Luke smiled to himself and rolled over a little, turning his back to the two lads, glad more than anything that he was someone they could be comfortable in front of, that he was providing some buffer or security to their young romance, compared to his own agonies at the start of this year. He thumbed at a few early press reactions to tonight’s game on his phone, reading the gloomy condemnation of United’s goalkeeping and defence, but selfishly glad not to see his own name mentioned with any harsh critique. Once his back was turned to Greenwood and Williams, he heard the shivering breaths and faint wet smacks of their kissing, and the feeling of being a humongous third wheel returned to him; no prudish disapproval for their tactile emotions, just a wary loneliness and an awareness of his own unsatisfied needs. After what felt ages but was perhaps only two minutes, he shifted his weight on the bed again and rolled off the bed, back on his feet. `You know what,’ he said, with his back still to them, `I might just go grab some air, y’know…’ Grabbing his discarded tracksuit bottoms off the carpet and reaching into his kit bag to find his hoodie, he walked past the end of the bed and glanced back at the cuddling pair, nervous wide eyes pointed his way. `Just give you two a little bit of, er, alone time, before it’s too late, or whatever…’ He grinned in a way that he hoped was helpful and supportive rather than passive aggressive, the clothes bundled to his tummy beneath both arms, stood still in just his skimpy green pants. Mason blushed a bit at the obvious implications of the offer, a bashful grin on the tall teen’s face, and Brandon curled more suggestively about him, squeezing further up his thigh and pulling a little at one shoulder strap of vest with the other hand. `That is kind,’ he said thoughtfully, not really looking at Luke as he spoke, blatantly too caught up in the lad on his bed. Mason just made a sort of vague murmuring half-laugh, still eyeing Shaw nervously, while Luke took another step back, about to pull on his clothes and leave them to it, but then- `You don’t have to go, though,’ the 19-year-old was suddenly saying, pulling his impish face away from his lover and smiling across the room at him. Luke paused and flicked his gaze from Greenwood’s blushing smile to Williams’ foxy little grin. `Huh?’ he mumbled, realising he’d let his mind wander a little to imagine what they might quickly get up to in his absence. He registered the smirking curl of Brandon’s mouth, the way the smaller lad’s hand was creeping into the bulging crotch of Mason’s pyjama shorts and giving their contents a gentle but obvious grope. Mason cleared his throat loudly, a little shy, and Luke found himself doing the same. `You don’t have to go anywhere,’ offered the 19-year-old left-back in a voice that was gruffly seductive. `Does he, Mase? He could… stay.’ Brandon tilted his head in and began to kiss the side of the striker’s neck, still massaging gently at the front of his shorts. Luke stood watching, his heart skipping an excited beat. In the front of his loaded briefs, he felt the rapid stirring. He should go, leave them to it. They were so cute together. He could go take a quick walk about the block, and- `Yeah,’ Greenwood agreed in a slow, cautious voice, laying a hand over Brandon’s where it fondled him, and rolling his tongue across his upper lip, `you could… stay, if you like, mate…’ They looked at each other in recognition of their past: it was weird for Shaw to imagine this slight young lad, barely 18, clumsily topping him in his old flat, helping to break him in for Maguire, all flashy grins and youthful terror at what he’d joined. Now he seemed, for all his nerves, confident and relaxed, but Luke knew he too was in a very different position. Luke didn’t need a third invite. He let the hoodie and trackies drop from his hands to the hotel room floor and took a couple of slow long strides towards them, into the gap between the beds. His dick was stirring and made the bulge of the briefs bounce just a little as he approached them. Once he was stood close, Mason reached up and stroked his knuckles across the outline of Luke’s cock, and one of Brandon’s hands slid out to stroke the side of his meaty left thigh. Fuck. Shaw stared down at the two hot teenagers and felt his dick stretching at the cotton, already pretty stiff. From there, things moved fast. Mason was pulling up his vest and Brandon was sliding off the bed onto his knees; Luke felt himself pulled down to the bedding by the waistband of his briefs, and he growled lustily at the threesome ahead. As long as he followed `the rules’, this would all be okay…! `Fuck,’ purred Brandon, on his knees between them, now grabbing at both their packages. Luke reached his right arm around Mason’s back, stroking over his toned muscle and squeezing the nape of his neck. With a twang, he felt his own thick boner released from his briefs and clutched in Brandon’s hand, the teen defender beginning to stroke them both to full erectness, mmmm. `Luke, snog him,’ muttered Brandon, `he loves it…’ Shaw let out a faintly regretful chuckle. `I can’t kiss other guys,’ he admitted, trying to make it sound a little less ad and restrictive; Greenwood’s response was quick and physical. He ducked in but missed Luke’s lips and jaw and began just snogging aggressively at the side of his neck instead, tickling and intense. Luke groaned and felt Brandon’s lips address his swollen cock moments later, both lads kissing at him in tender locations, his whole body twisting in delight. Luke rolled back against the bed, totally succumbing to the sensations of Brandon’s blowie; as his heavier body descended, he felt Mason follow, kissing down from his neck and onto his chest, finding and licking one of his suddenly stiff nipples. Mmm… Brandon was tonguing at his cock with more skill and grace than he might have expected. But that was shortlived, his damp cock swaying in the air, he could hear the wet slap of lips and clearly Williams had swapped over to suck on Greenwood instead. Luke lay still, groaning at the touch of Mason’s kisses down his tummy and past his belly button, following the treasure trail of hair until he was now the one sucking on his dick. Oh Mason, he thought, you’ve come a long way! Luke felt a vague selfishness at his part here, but he knew the rules; he couldn’t suck a dick other than Harry’s, that was barred. So really, he was trapped in this selfish ecstasy, and what ecstasy it was… All three of them were on the bed now, their bodies rolling together across the sheets and making it creak beneath their combined weight. Luke tugged at his dick in a gap between blow-jobs, coming up onto his thick knees and taking in the sight of the two lean naked bodies against him, contrasting in colour and height but similar in their wiry muscle. Again, as soon as he was on his knees, Brandon was swooping down, licking at his bell-end and then taking his thick bone into his mouth. Luke gasped and stroked one hand down across the long fluff of his hair, almost falling backwards at the pleasure of that sucking. Behind Brandon, Mason was tugging escort mersin himself off, his six-pack more pronounced than ever as he hunched back; with his other hand, he was stroking Brandon’s bottom and spitting in his fingers to start pushing at the lad’s crack. Luke groaned happily at the prospect of this spitroast, seeing the sluttish way that Brandon arched his back and pushed his backside into his lover’s grasp whilst never taking his lips off Luke’s own meat. Seeing Mason’s intense focus and care as he fingered his lad made Luke feel even more excited by this three-way fun; it brought hazy flashes of his own experiences with Greenwood, laid out on his back and terrified to give up his hole. But the young striker seemed to know what he was doing now, making Brandon whine and giggle as he lapped at Luke’s cock and balls, doggy style on the bed between them. Luke and Mason’s caught each other’s eyes and neither could help but smirk, presumably at the same things: how much they had both changed since their shared sexual experiences, how pure and fun this actually was, how beautiful the thin pale lad crouched between them was, how horny it was to share… When Greenwood pushed inside Williams, Luke could feel his pain at it, clearly they hadn’t been able to fuck as often as they’d like. He pulled his dick away and stroked tenderly at the other left-back’s hair and his little ears and downy cheeks, running his thumb over his wet lips, all comforting touches to ease him in as his hole was stretched and invaded. But once Mason was in, and gently pulling back and forth with his bony hips, Brandon just growled and moaned and stuck his tongue out to lap back along the shaft of Luke’s cock. Their three bodies swayed and tensed with loose rhythm, the bed’s gentle creaking continuing and limiting the athleticism of their interaction. Luke kept one hand at the base of his own dick, feeding it to Brandon’s greedy lips, and ran the other over the back of his neck and shoulders, massaging at the lean physique and soothing him through the pleasure-pain of being slowly bummed. Greenwood grinned from his position behind his lad, speeding up his careful thrusts a little, sweat beading on his tight six-pack and arms. `Mmm, baby,’ he moaned simply, `ohhh Bran…’ `You two are so fucking hot,’ Luke announced through his heavy breaths, `like so… fuckin’… hot…’ `Says you,’ grunted Mason appreciatively, `from pretty boy to DILF, eh…’ From between them, in a gasping moan of a voice: `Shut up the pair of you and just FUCK ME…’ Laughing and gasping, Greenwood picked up his pace and made a vague fleshy slap as he smacked his cock back inside Brandon’s arse, over and over. Luke moaned and pulled his dick from Brandon’s greedy lips to slap his cock against his cheeks gently, smearing his pre-cum in the lad’s soft stubble and pulling his hair out of his eyes for him. `Luke?’ panted Mason after a few minutes. `Yeah, buddy…?’ `You wanna swap?’ Shaw paused, surprised by the idea; he looked at the nervous excitement in Greenwood’s face, and then down at Williams, who paused in the middle of kissing his bollocks and grinned upwards. `Go on,’ Brandon panted, `just swap over a minute, it’ll be good…’ It was Brandon himself who moved, rather than the `swapping’ lads; between them, they manhandled his lithe body around until his narrow firm buttocks were facing Luke, and his face was planted firmly between Mason’s brown thighs. Luke pushed a single finger inside Brandon, remembering the one time he had gently fingered him before, much earlier in their development; he’d thought about it since, always wanting to try pushing inside that tight lad… He knew his cock was a fair bit thicker than Mason’s, so he took it carefully, fingering Williams for a little while first before edging the thick tip of his meat in between those firm muscles. He looked at Greenwood again and saw no envy or resentment, just encouraging enjoyment. Luke pushed his body forward carefully, glad to feel how tight Brandon really was, but managing to edge inside him inch by painstaking inch. Brandon had to stop sucking Mason to squeal out a bit, so much in fact that Mason, laughing caringly, covered his mouth a little and leaned down to stroke and kiss at his head and shoulders; Luke paused, but then heard the decadent gasp of the younger guy’s enjoyment, and pushed on. He began to fuck him with slow, heavy strokes, looking intensely at Mason over his thin white back, knowing the hole they were sharing and the beautiful intimacy of the three-way… Then Brandon was rearing up, pushing BACK with his arse, and Luke couldn’t contain the gasping cry of enjoyment, so that it was him who needed Mason’s sweaty palm clamped over his bearded mouth. The three of them were up on their knees and close now, as he fucked, hugging Brandon’s slim body to him while Mason kissed his lover on the mouth and ran his hands back around to stroke Luke’s back muscles and grab cheekily at the big bubbles of his buttocks. And then Mason was going down on Brandon, sucking him powerfully whilst Luke held him close and thrust his fat cock in again and again and again, pushing Williams until he gasped and moaned, `Oh god boys, oh man… fuckkk, Mase baby…’ and spilled his load inside the 18-year-old’s gob. Then both teens were spilling away from Luke, and he was wanking his own clammy cock in his hand, looking down at Brandon’s beautiful lithe body stretching out over the bed, hair in his eyes, dick greasy with spit and cum. Luke shot his load just looking at this, driven so far by the tight tender fucking he’d enjoyed, and now spoiled by the image of the two lads leaning in to kiss again, side by side: his spunk shot messily over them both, spattering their sturdy legs and trickling against their crotches. Brandon was tossing his boy off as they snogged. Luke sagged back, again almost falling off the bed, and resting momentarily on one thick arm. Then he stepped off the bed into the gap between them again, panting loudly. Mason was pulling on top of Brandon, covering him as they snogged deeply, panting into his lover’s mouth as Brandon jerked aggressively on his slender meat. Okay, Luke thought, this time I am definitely giving you your alone time… as fun as sharing had been, he was the gooseberry again, the threesome had ended with his explosive orgasm. His own cum must be smearing between the two footballer’s thighs and hips as they interlocked on the bed, gasping and murmuring, lost in each other. Shaw laughed gently and backed away, grabbing up the dropped clothing and pulling it on — the trackies over his thigh legs without bothering to find his underpants, the hoodie pulled to over the sweaty bulk of his torso. Flip-flops on his shaky feet. Quietly, without announcing himself, he left the room, key jangling in his pocket, and stood alone in the corridor catching his breath. Harry Maguire pushed shut the rental car door and shook himself in the stuffy warm air, looking up at the towering form of the hotel; behind it, London swept away in a sparkling horizon of light and dark, even at this time of night. He wiped the back of his arm across his face and strode across the patchy car park, aiming for reception; he needed to return the keys of this hired vehicle to the helpful old man there. He thought about Dier and the hinted confessions that had come from him — Harry Kane?! It was almost too mad for Harry to grasp, but then he thought about the opposite perspective, and handsome Eric asking the same questions of HIS behaviour. Well, wasn’t this all getting very interesting now…? He made a quiet beeline off the tarmac of the car park and onto the stone patios leading up to the 24-hours reception, glowing faintly through smoky glass, hands in the pockets of his tracksuit bottoms, still feeling a bit too warm and excited by what had gone on the Winks bachelor pad. On the drive back here, the question of just WHO the lad in Dier’s photo had pushed at his mind but he was trying to let it go, respect the other man’s boundaries, feeling as empathetic as he did for his presumed situation. Whatever had or hadn’t been going on with Dier and Kane seemed to be over, and the look of hurt in the midfielder’s eye had struck Harry hard. It reminded him of his own low moments, when his boy Luke had seemed out of reach. And then, just like that, there he was. Stood at the edge of this patio garden, between tow benches, staring moodily out over the night view on his own, his profile dramatically lit by the glow of a security lamp somewhere. They seemed to sense each other at the same time, Harry pausing in his quick stride for the hotel, and Luke turning his thoughtful gaze away from the view and towards the car park, so that both men stopped very still and seemed more alarmed than pleased to see each other, just for a moment. Then Luke was grinning, that loose white-toothed smile that made Harry’s heart leap, and waving one hand silently in the dark. Maguire made his way over to him and, taking a quick glance about the abandoned hotel exterior, leaned in and planted a single romantic kiss on the side of his head, tasting the mix of sweat and perfumed shampoo in his short hair. `Harry,’ the 24-year-old murmured in surprise, looping an arm about his back for a similarly brief squeeze, then glancing shiftily about them with a tinkling laugh of nervous excitement. `Luke,’ Harry breathed. `What are you…?’ `Just some air,’ Luke said quickly, sucking it in and exaggerating his need for freshness. He frowned a little, peering around them, then back up at Harry, worried but not accusing. `And you…? You’ve bee somewhere…?’ Harry paused beside him, and realised he probably smelt of it: sweaty and salty, his indiscretions written all over his big face. But he’d followed the rules, hadn’t he? This was all allowed. He realised how guilty or odd his hesitation might look, might sound. But then he thought about it: didn’t Luke look a little dishevelled too? A little greasy on the cheeks, his short hair tufty and his breathing with that raspy post-orgasmic quality to it…? They both just stared quietly at each other for a while. `You first, then,’ Luke said eventually, the hint of a smile on his lips. `I’m not sure you’ll believe me when I tell you,’ Maguire admitted, a surge mersin escort bayan of relief as he saw that edge of a grin, heard the little tinkle of mischief in his lovers voice. `Fine,’ sighed Luke a little distantly, finding his hand in the dark between them and sliding their fingers together a little. `Me first… might have got a bit heated in my shared room, y’know…’ `Brandon?’ Harry asked gently, unable to keep the possessive jealousy from his voice, no matter how hard he tried. And he wasn’t trying that hard. He squeezed Luke’s hand a little. `Well… fair enough, as long as you…’ `Brandon AND Mason,’ Shaw chuckled quietly, leaning in closer. `And fuck’s sake, no. No kissing. I didn’t do anything but… let them suck me and… fuck little Brandon…’ He let out a purring groan of satisfaction, and Harry tried to guess just how recently he’d been inside another lad. `It was good,’ Luke admitted, unnecessarily. `Right,’ Harry said. Still, he knew how defensive and uneasy his voice sounded, but he just couldn’t help it. He loosened his grip on Luke’s hand, realising how uncomfortably tight it had become as he listened to Luke’s simplistic description of what sounded a very involved night up there. `Well I…’ He felt silly as he said it. `I was looking into… Luke, that picture, the one Dier sent me, you know how-` `Oh my god, THAT, again…!’ Luke was grinning with fond disbelief, staring over at him with a little sparkle in his eyes, still obviously breathless and dazed by his own sexy antics, but then stopping, and sensing Harry’s triumph. `No fucking way,’ the other United defender muttered very quietly now, `not Eric fucking Dier… seriously…?’ Harry leaned in, pushing his lips close to his boyfriend’s ear as he said it. `He’s very… open-minded, as it happens… He and I shared a lad of our own, you know… His names rhyme with “Barry” and “Minx”….’ He chuckled lazily and let their heads brush, not quite a kiss, but his nose and lips resting against the side of Luke’s head. As he said it aloud, his night’s discovery and adventure felt hollow and naff, uninteresting: what had it really amounted to? Nothing like THIS, for sure… Despite the risky publicness of the spot, he ran his hand down Luke’s back, feeling his body heat through the hooded top, stopping just shy of the plump backside. `Dier and Winks,’ Luke was mumbling in disbelief. `My my, ain’t we been busy…’ He giggled softly and wriggled as Harry’s fingers crept against the rise of his buttocks through the fine tracksuit material, so sensitive without the barrier of undies. `Harry, babe… we best get inside and to our rooms, it’s so late…’ Maguire held his hand in place for a moment more, just below the hollow of his lower back, still running his dry lips gently near Luke’s ear, then — `Harry, come on, this isn’t safe!’ And he pulled back reluctantly in agreement, falling into step behind Shaw as they strolled back to the automatic sliding doors and the low lights of the foyer beyond. Luckily, the old gentleman on reception wasn’t visible at the desk right now, which was for the best, as they both looked so dishevelled and flushed… They crossed the reception area to the row of lifts, and Harry resisted the overwhelming physical urge to grab at Luke’s backside again, now he knew there was nothing underneath the shiny black fabric, and he could feel his fingers so close to those cheeks. He thought again about what Luke had said, about his three-way with the teens, and found that though the angry possessive jealousy was still there, so was a thrill at it, knowing what his boy had done. Luke was speaking, he realised, but he wasn’t taking a word of his low murmured gossip in. He was just staring at their dim reflection in the reflective metal of the lift doors, the slow ping of an elevator descending towards them… Maguire looked to the right. Just beyond the row of lift entrances was a unisex toilet, its door marked out against the dark wall fittings. He glanced back into the glossy emptiness of the reception area, and then back at Luke: picturing his rugged strength as he ploughed that sullen brat Brandon Williams, sharing him with grinning handsome Mason Greenwood, who he himself had once corrupted into this playful trouble… Before he knew what he was doing, Harry was tugging at Luke’s arm. Luke began to speak, but he pulled tighter, dragging them quietly down the wall and to the door, which he wrenched open before practically throwing Shaw inside. Luke’s confused, alarmed face gave way to quiet giggles, questioning eyes, but Harry moved quickly and strongly, turning him round at the same time as wrenching shut the bolt on the door: `You’re mine,’ he muttered greedily, `you know you’re mine…’ `Oh always,’ Luke laughed, but not mockingly, still a little out of breath, and Harry pulled down the back of his jogging bottoms and reached around the front to take his dick in his left hand, breathing hot and damp on the back of his neck. `Oh Harry,’ he moaned very quietly, `I pretty much blew my load five minutes ago, so… ohhhh, babe…’ Harry shushed him and stroked and squeezed it, feeling how warm and clammy his lad’s prick really was, pulling on it possessively all the same. `Harry,’ Luke murmured, `I know you think I’m some stud but I can’t just… ohh…’ But he could, and he was. Harry breathed heavily against the nape of his neck and pulled some life back into his seemingly spent cock, and pushed his other hand in against his plump, sweaty cheeks. `Ohhh Harry,’ Luke moaned, sounding surprised more at himself than anything else. Maguire slid two thick long fingers in between those cheeks and kissed Luke on the back of the neck as he pulled teasingly on his chubby prick, unsure how hard it would get, so soon after one orgasm. `You can fuck all the lads you want,’ he gasped behind his ear, `but you’re mine…’ `I’m yours,’ Luke echoed happily, his voice breaking off as Harry pushed the fingers roughly into his crack, no messing around, no stroking and teasing; just finding and pushing at his familiar hole, and planting another rough kiss on the back of his neck. Harry’s own cock was hard in his underwear, and he’d been spewing cum on Harry Winks about twenty-five minutes ago. He breathed in deeply of Luke’s sexy smells and pressed his two fingers inside his ring, making him squeal quietly in this tiny unisex toilet. `Oh god,’ Luke whispered. `That’s me,’ Harry chuckled in his ear. And in that enclosed space, he pleasured his beautiful young lad as aggressively and possessively as he could: dragging back and forth on his cock until it stiffened and throbbed, pushing two thick digits in and out of his ring without even spit for lube. With his lips, he grazed his ear and kissed softly at his neck, whispering his name over and over, `Oh Luke… Lukey… baby… Luke…’ until, in the shortest time it had ever taken the pair of them, the 24-year-old left-back was spilling a watery second load against the toilet seat, and letting out pained cries of joy with little effort to stifle them. Harry slowly, very slowly, slid his fingers from his arse and squeezed one cheek, then planted a final kiss on the top of his spine. `I love you so much,’ he said quickly, hearing the jarring softness of his speech against the hurried roughness of his action, Luke’s whole thick body trembling against his chest now in the throes of this surprising second orgasm. `I love you,’ he repeated, hugging him desperately to his body, `I really — fucking — love you…’ Upstairs, Brandon felt Mason begin to pull away from him, breaking the little post-coital cuddle that had occupied them for about the last ten minutes. He allowed himself a petulant whining noise and grabbed at his lad’s cock to keep him here. `Not yet,’ he murmured, `don’t go yet…’ Mason laughed against his neck. `Babe, I gotta… Luke will be up again and… it’s late, and we’ll get in trouble if…’ Brandon squeezed and pulled at his long flaccid member, wriggling his shoulder against his chest and folding one leg greedily between Mason’s. `You can’t go unless I let you,’ he insisted stupidly, running his thumb against the sticky foreskin. Mason just chuckled, pulled him close, and leaned over to kiss him properly on the lips. It was a long, delicate kiss between them, none of their usual desperate neediness to it; when it was over, Brandon sighed acceptance. Greenwood was pulling away and off the bed, and he sat himself up on his throbbing arse and nodded his agreement with this boring common sense. `You felt so good tonight,’ he said, becoming coy and awkward with this honesty as the sexy rush of it all vanished and normality seemed to hang threateningly around them. Beside the bed, Mason was pulling on his vest, his cock and balls dancing between his legs with each movement; next, the pyjama shorts, pulled quickly up those long striker’s legs. `Better than Luke?’ quipped Mason with a strange grin. Williams raised one dark eyebrow and hugged his knees to his narrow chest. `Don’t be like that, we both wanted him right then, I could tell. You enjoyed it, didn’t you…?’ Mason, clothed in his PJs once more, leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. `Of course I fucking did. He’s a stud. And watching him with you was… wow…’ Their faces hung close, grinning at each other in mutual satisfaction. `I just hope I can compare with his fat cock, that’s all…!’ `Size ain’t everything,’ Brandon muttered happily. Their faces tilted and there was another slow kiss on the lips, then it really was goodbye. Mason pulling away, adjusting his vest, something sad and wistful in his goodbye grin. Brandon remained where he was, sat in a tangle of duvet, sweat drying on his folded limbs, watching the gangly forward get ready to leave. `Love you, buddy,’ he said, instinctively, then heard his words back to himself. Mason paused there, smiling at him. `Love?’ Greenwood questioned cautiously. `Yeah… buddy,’ Williams said, lamely. `Love you, mate. Love… yeah. Love you…’ He repeated it experimentally, feeling a hotter blush replace the gentle flush in his cheeks. They looked at each other for a silent moment then burst into giggles. Greenwood backed off towards the door, rested his fingers on the handle. Then he said it silently, just shifting his lips but not putting any volume into the three important words: `Love you too’. Then he opened the door, disappeared into the harsh electric light of the corridor, and Brandon sat alone, hugging himself and sighing contentedly into his own knees. He was very much in love.