Date: Mon, 18 Jan 2021 23:09:58 +0000 From: writer guy Subject: Premiership Lads Part 228 Part 228: Captains & their Lovers Nil-nil: disappointing and frustrating. The current Premiership leaders versus last year's champions, and a goalless Sunday evening was the outcome. It was difficult for the Manchester United captain to stand there and grimace through the Sky Sports interview, trying to articulate the disappointment and ambition of the other lads already in the dressing rooms to the reporter. Everybody knew how much pressure and hype there was on a clash between the North West's two sides of reds, and now the game felt anti-climactic and full of missed opportunity. Harry Maguire grunted his relief as the media duty came to an end, squeezing the offered handshake of the Sky reporter manically tight in his own huge hand, then backing away from the cameras and microphones and away from the interview area with slow heavy steps of his long legs, pulling loose strands of sweaty hair out of his brow. He passed, briefly, his counterpart, and grabbed at his shoulder for a moment to give him a weary nod of lightly begrudged congratulation, which was respectfully reciprocated and the Mackem lad patted him on the bicep as they brushed past one another, the next interview ready for the press. Harry gave him a brief glance, the red-clad leader of his Merseyside rivals, before trudging on through the sheltered sides of the pitch and into the mouth of the tunnel. They were seasoned England teammates, after all, he could hardly begrudge Hendo the same pyrrhic victory, as much as he wished they'd managed to beat the champions here in their fortress and really consolidate their Premiership lead. He left square-jawed rugged Jordan Henderson with the suited media types, crunching his boots against concrete, and entering the draughty entrance towards the changing rooms, feeling his whole towering body still tensed up with the adrenaline and testosterone of the much-anticipated clash, the one game he'd been desperate for them to get won. He itched with the hormonal charge and psychological pressure of it all, needing to unleash it now that the 90 minutes were over and all that awaited was a shower and a short coach trip back towards Manchester. His chest rose and fell beneath the figure-hugging black away shirt, the Chevrolet logo on the chest stretching and shrinking across the centre of his pecs, and arms swinging at his sides as he made his way down the tunnel -- ahead of him, a lot of the lads were still milling about at the entrance to the Anfield Away rooms, removing muddy boots and exchanging some handshakes and terse conversation with opponents who were moving further down the passage towards the Home door. Among them, he saw, was his `left-hand man', so to speak, his defensive partner, and everything else... Luke Shaw looked incredibly sexy right now, his short-cropped hair and scruffy beard framing his sweat-shiny handsome features, black away kit clinging to his thick torso and thicker behind, long sleeves of his under-armour coating sturdy arms that bent a little at the sides as he dangled boots from one side and clutched a water bottle on the other. Harry looked at where the tops of his white socks ended just below thick strong knees, and the thin glimpse of thigh above where his rather modestly long shorts ended. The match-weary captain looked at the 25-year-old left-back and needed him then and there. `Captain,' Luke said breathily as he saw Harry approach. Maguire stared at him dumbly for a moment, unable to find the words, or more worryingly, too easily able to, but unable to bark out `Bend over NOW' in the middle of the Anfield tunnel, with men of both squads in such immediate earshot. But he stared at him and he supposed that everything he felt probably showed in his clammy features, to Luke at least, who knew him inside out. The younger United defender was certainly staring interestedly back at him as the 6ft4 captain approached him, unable to steer himself left and after the others into the changing rooms as he should... he just reached out and let his knuckles brush Luke's inner bicep for a moment instead, fixing his eyes on him and giving him a silent nod. Then he strode on, feigning confidence in where he was going, the special key to never really being questioned; all of the Manchester lads had disappeared in through the door anyway, it was just Luke left lingering there beside him. Nobody would miss them for... a few minutes. Quite a few minutes, preferably. He looked over his high broad shoulder and saw Shaw hesitating, still wavering with boots and water bottle in hand, eyes wide and following him. Harry winked and the gesture snapped his lad into action -- instantly, Luke was following, dropping the boots to the floor and ditching the noisy space beside the changing rooms behind, hurrying after his captain down the quieter end of the tunnel and rounding the corner. The spot was very public, in theory, but Harry's post-match mood was demanding and reckless: the second they were around that corner, he reached behind him and grabbed Luke's package backwards in his shorts, growling under his breath. `Come with me,' he demanded quietly but authoritatively, `I need you NOW.' Nil-nil: disappointing and frustrating. The reigning Premiership champions versus this year's pretender, and a goalless Sunday evening was the outcome. It was difficult for the Liverpool captain to stand there and nod through the Sky Sports interview, trying to articulate the disappointment and ambition of the other lads already in the dressing rooms to the reporter. Everybody knew how much pressure and hype there was on a clash between the North West's two sides of reds, and now the game felt anti-climactic and full of missed opportunity. Jordan Henderson shook gratefully at the hand of the reporter and sidestepped from the attention of the camera, stifling a yawn and ducking away from the milling gathering of reporters and camera crew, keen to get out of the chill and to be back among his lads, even if it was just to hear them complain bitterly at missed chances and the smugness of the United visitors. It had been a tough game and, internally at least, he had to admit to some relief that it was a draw and not a home loss, which would have been very destabilising to everything about the Liverpool mindset. A draw against tough opposition he could stomach, even if he was longing for a whistle to blow and a `third half' to burst into action on the grass beside him -- he still felt so pumped and ready for action, in his head at least, with every muscle in his body aching and telling him to go hit the showers as quickly as possible. Instead, the 30-year-old midfielder was making his way indoors, high-fiving a couple of lingering substitutes and minor coaching figures who were still gathered around the mouth of the tunnel, then charging on ahead of them with the studs of his boots clicking pointedly against the concrete and then linoleum. He rubbed at his sweaty temples, head down for a moment, breathing in the sweaty perfumed odour of all the shattered men who had trudged through this space, then lifting his face as he neared the door into the Home changing rooms, and- There he was, hanging by the door, half-leaning at the wall with his arms folded in a posture that suggested he was waiting right there for him, for him alone. It was the eyes he saw first, it always was: so vivid and alert, their chocolate-brown irises fixed firmly on him as he neared the young lad. The 19-year-old Welsh boy looked as fresh as a daisy, not having left the bench to join the fray, still cosy beneath a loose red Liverpool sweatshirt and long trackies pulled up his legs. His plump pink-red lips parted to speak, and Jordan found himself suddenly needing to stop him; he pressed a quiet hand to his folded arms and looked intensely at him from the sweaty reddened features of his face. `What is it?' Neco Williams asked quietly, whatever he WAS going to say or ask apparently melted by this sudden and intense gesture from his skipper. Jordan hesitated, holding his hand still against the fold of strong young arms, wanting to touch more and grasp him tenderly here and now, but knowing that the rest of the Liverpool squad were milling about an undressing only feet away through that open door -- and perhaps others were drifting indoors however many yards behind him just now. He glanced over his shoulder to check but, nope, those hanging on outside were still out there, soaking up the non-existent atmosphere of a stadium without fans. He glanced sharply back at Neco. `Everything okay?' the teen asked in a nervous murmur, lilting with his borders accent `I need you now,' Henderson told him simply, honestly. He pushed at his forearm. `Now,' he added a bit more firmly, and took a long stride past him, on down the corridor. Neco tumbled along with him instantly, no debate or protest or hesitation. He grabbed a little at the side of his red home kit. Jordan just looked at him, knowing how intense his eyes must seem, how set and firm his jaw must look, but absolutely overcome with the need. The generalised tension of his body and psyche right now were just all directed at this curly-headed beauty beside him, and he marched rapidly down the end of the tunnel and around the corner, dropping a hand to his side and resting it on the small of Neco's back as soon as they were around that corner. `Here?' the Welsh lad said breathily. `Will we be okay?' `I know the spot,' the Sunderland-born football captain told him assertively, hurrying them onwards, down a deserted corridor that ended in double-doors, loosely ajar; they led into the additional changing rooms where there were a couple of recovery pools, largely out-of-bounds under current restrictions, and so the perfect quiet spot. After all, his interview could easily have dragged on, and nobody would be questioning his whereabouts for a good few minutes yet, surely... He raced the last few steps, practically shoving Neco along beside him from his lower back, making the younger bloke giggle and breath in sharply. Jordan wrenched at the door handle and shouldered it inwards, pushing his beautiful boy ahead of him then shoving it firmly closed behind them for some privacy. Bambi-like, Neco skittered down the short passage in front of them and into the dim space beyond, stumbling to a halt a few paces in front. Jordan rushed after him, grabbing his waist with both hands and pulling his face into kiss the side of his neck, smelling his aftershave and natural odour, and then stopping as he did so to peer past him and realise that the room, with its shallow dry pools out of use and the only light coming from an emergency panel somewhere on the wall, was not quite so empty after all... For young Williams, it had been difficult to sit out this evening's game, stuck in a cushioned seat a few rows from the action, straining in his tracksuit to strip down to his kit and dash on to help the Liverpool squad push ambitiously forward. He'd tried to insist to Jordan, during a long quiet phone call between them, that perhaps the respected captain could lean on their open-minded boss to take a risk and start Neco in the defensive line... but he hadn't been surprised by Hendo's softly-worded rejection, tactfully defending the gaffer's decisions and assuring him that he would be contributing from the bench as a tactical back-up. Neco had been able to tell that Jordan was just comforting him, well aware that he was too young and unproven for a start in such an important game against one of their main title challengers. Such phone calls had been all the two of them had really shared in the few weeks since Christmas Day with the Hendersons. With the UK's lockdown severely tightening in the New Year, it had become harder to engineer any of their discreet meets, and the two of them weren't often in the same training bubble under current arrangements. Hendo, Neco thought, had also become more cautious and withdrawn from him -- he wasn't hurt by this, he could understand the older man's fear, but he did struggle with it, quite isolated in his city flat and craving the more comforting environment of living with his captain as he briefly had last year. He wondered at times if Jordan regretted the Christmas invite, since it had led to this caution and distance -- had it all been too much for the Liverpool skipper, having him there alongside his wife and her family...? Tonight, watching the tense clash with United, Neco had found it tough to look anywhere but at his captain. It was hero worship, to some extent, although he was slowly adjusting to the reality that it was more than that. It was tough for him, 19 and so convinced of his pure heterosexuality, to feel this more-than-admiration for a handsome older guy, and it was tough to separate his footballing idolising of the self-made legend from his deeply physical attraction to the guy who was teasing him into scary new territory. With Harvey, in those blurry summer nights, he had been high and bored. With Giggs, there was a numb awe and obedience mixed with a sleazy appreciation of the attention. With Hendo... He watched him throughout the 90 minutes, willing a goal and victory for the Anfield hosts as much out of personal devotion as for his own club. He'd cringed to see the steely disappointment in the captain's hard-set face as the whistle blew and the draw closed. That's why he'd skulked in the tunnel, waiting for him, wanting to at least mutter some words of praise or just flash him a comforting smile in the midst of the frustrating evening -- he hadn't expected Henderson to stare so madly at him and insist on more than a look or a word... but when he had, his cock had gone semi-hard in his tight sports briefs and he'd raced after him through the innards of the stadium with no thought for risk or discovery. But now he was here, feeling Jordan's hands on his back and shoulder, and his breath on the tingling hairs of his neck, staring ahead of him at the alarming proximity of two more men. His eyes took a few long moments to adjust to the half-light of this deserted room, first enough to recognise their identities -- Maguire! Shaw?! -- and then, more shockingly, the way their bodies clung together in the interrupted embrace of... lovers? Big mighty Maguire had one hand pushed up the front of Shaw's dark football shirt and his other clasped about the back of his neck, rubbing up against him from the side, except now glaring frostily this way with his big blocky features twisted into a sneer of alarm; the other United player was twisted slightly away from him as if now to separate the lusty hold, but his hands were fumbling still at the waist of Harry's black shorts, and his face looked dazed and indecisive as he stared this way. It seemed to Neco that both men were almost looking through him, dismissing his youthful presence, and staring with more worry and shock at the senior man behind him, now gripping his sides a bit more firmly. `Guys,' Hendo murmured anxiously over his shoulder. It was Luke who broke the ensuing silence, parting his body a little more from his own captain, and forcing a grin on his softly bearded face. `Don't mind us,' the young defender said with a strained chuckle to his voice, `captains got to have their fun, eh...?' There was something exaggerated and nervous about his cheeky gambit, but Neco felt an immediate half-relief at it, understanding that they'd walked in on something just as private and secret as their own antics. Still, he could feel Jordan's tension in his fingers and the little panting breaths that stroked the side of his neck. `We'll go,' Neco's captain said through gritted teeth. `Sorry, lads, didn't mean to...' `No need,' Luke was saying, quite quickly, the grin on his face relaxing a little. `Not if you don't want to.' And right in front of him, chuckling again, he pulled in closer to his own captain and slid a hand down the front of his shorts, making Harry pant a little and curl a strong arm about his shoulders, the two of them glossy with sweat as they embraced again, both staring intensely this way. For Luke, this was an exciting twist -- really, he could have resented the intrusion, having been stealing lusty glances at his captain and centre-back across the pitch in any snatch of quiet during the 90 minutes, but he could see the opportunity in the interruption. They were mad to be in here, he knew that, but he'd seen the demanding authority in his man's eyes when Harry stalked down that tunnel towards him, and he'd felt powerless against it. Not because of his subservient streak towards his alpha, but because of his own randy hormones, his fat bollocks aching to be emptied. After all, things at home circled around his new life as a parent, and he was hardly `satisfied' in that department lately. It was becoming harder and harder for the two defenders to get alone time together, only two or three rushed fumbles since the life-affirming frenzy of their one-year anniversary. That and a lot of imagined action in Luke's mind, tossing one off in an en suite bathroom first thing in the morning, the extractor fan on to cover his grunts while his partner snoozed obliviously on. It was made worse by the messages from Depay. Memphis had spent much of the festive period on some pandemic-dubious holiday in the Middle East, basking in heat without much clothing on, and choosing to document as much of it as possible for Luke by WhatsApp. Luke enjoyed each one and then deleted it from his phone. He hadn't the heart to ask his good friend and former teammate to actually STOP the messages, but it was a strange double-guilt: the usual nervous dread about his girlfriend and his `real' life at home, and the knowledge of how possessive and insecure Maguire really was about him. He wasn't overly concerned about his irresistible attraction to his old buddy, swanning about Dubai in little more than designer pants and displaying his tattoos for selfie after selfie, but it did add to the sexual frustration of this winter lockdown. He'd been almost instantly hard in his baggy football shorts, following Harry around here and finding this quiet gloomy spot by the empty dry recovery pools and gently throbbing heating system in the walls. He was mad with lust for the big sweaty man beside him -- he never found Maguire sexier than in full kit and in severe captain mode, all hard-faced and aggressively loud. It was really his most exciting and authoritative and it made him leak pre-cum against his briefs just seeing him, never mind feeling him, smelling him, tasting him. But now he was looking at further excitement: an older and even more respected leader of English football, staring worriedly across at them while his hands still fondled protectively at the lad in front of him. And what a lad. Luke had, with quiet interest, noted the almost elfin beauty of the Welsh player a few times last season, from a distance, but up close in this room he was all the more striking, his eyes and perfect teeth and his trembling excitement. Luke could see some evidence of said excitement forming a stiff shape in the front of his red trackies, and he openly licked his lips as he told them, `No need. Not if you don't want to.' He made a nervous laugh, unsure how the two opposing captains would really react to this situation, eyeing each other up tensely across the gap created by one of the round empty pools; Luke took some control of this by thrusting a hand down the front of Harry's shorts. Mmm, he could feel how warm and damp Harry's briefs were with sweat, hugging his swollen package in against his palm and fingers, then turning a provocative wink towards the two Liverpool studs. He squeezed the outline of the big Maguire meat and leaned in, kissing Harry roughly on the neck, letting his beard hairs tickle softly at his shiny skin, sighing into the side of his throat. Harry moaned, deeply, and Luke sniggered his own pleasure, thumbing playfully at his privates and watching for more reaction from the two awkwardly silent intruders. They made no move or sound, and Luke knew he needed to do more to make them comfortable, to invite them in... He slid straight down, planting one knee against the tiled ground and stretching the other down into the shallow dry pool. Here, he leaned his face in against the front of Harry's black shorts and nuzzled that bulge through two layers instead, making no move to drag the shorts down and suck him off, just teasing and provoking him with his nose and mouth and chin. Above, Harry shuddered and moaned and then, in a deep boom of his voice, echoed his invite: `Plenty of space in here,' the United captain muttered challengingly, `hope you don't mind us using your rooms for a quick bit of fun, fellas...' A grunting chuckle from the big Sheffield bloke. Luke kissed his package in his shorts and then stretched upwards, lifting the front of his shirt now so he could kiss him just below and above the belly button, running his tongue and lips against the firm muscles there and stretching one hand up to squeeze his chest beneath the shirt. Harry moaned some more and stroked at his short fluffy hair and one of his shoulders. Luke twisted his face a little and smirked to see it: Neco edging forward, taking Jordan by the hand, circling the pool to move closer to them, and then Jordan himself grabbing him properly around the waist and beginning to kiss and suck at his neck like a horny teen. Harry stared at his Liverpool counterpart, his even more revered Lion colleague, and felt utterly delighted with this serendipitous collision of lovers. There was something new and exciting in Luke's exhibitionism and eagerness to share, but also something very cock-tingling about getting to show him off; he could see the two Liverpool lads staring wondrously at handsome Shaw, and in surprise at his own relaxing body language. He liked the shock of it, though at this point he was hardly shocked to discover a bit of sexual fluidity and secret kink among any fellow sports lad. He grappled excitedly with his left-back, taking grip of Luke's shirt at the shoulders and wrenching it upwards until it was peeling off his thick white body. It bothered him to think just how body-insecure his lad still was and he wanted to show off his thick strong form to the honorary Scousers. Luke was basically sucking him through his shorts and briefs now and he moaned luxuriously at the feel of it, while next to them, he could see Jordan begin to reach around and feel up his strikingly handsome teen through his bright red trackies. Henderson was spooning him from behind, nuzzling and kissing him while grabbing at the obvious outline of his hard-on. The Liverpool captain still had something tense and hesitant about him, but his gruff manly movements were still impressive and fucking sexy -- he was probably the last England player Harry would have imagined to get involved with this, but after sharing Kane with Walker and Ming, well... Maguire grabbed at his own shirt and wrenched it off, stopping only to struggle with the tight elasticated captain's armband, then tossing the sweaty garments aside and flexing the long impressive board of his torso. He pulled away from Shaw, but only to sink into a more comfortable position, hanging his arse against the rim of the shallow pool and encouraging the other player to step down into it and sink between his open legs. He leaned back, elbows to the ground, spreading his strong legs so that Luke could continue to mouth his privates through his shorts and then kiss at the insides of his thighs. Quietly echoing their movements, Neco too stepped down into the pool, and Jordan, stood a couple of feet around the circumference from him, pushed down his glossy red shorts, dropping them over his long socks and boots, then dropping into a seated position in just his footy shirt and bulging white trunks. Neco, all wide-eyed and startled, stared at Luke and then Harry and then dropped his face in between Jordan's hairy thighs and began to kiss and nip at his bulge in the same teasing way. Harry grinned wickedly and stared over his curly hair to meet eyes with his rival captain, leering at their newly shared transgression. `You've got him trained well,' he muttered. Hendo stared awkwardly back, not quite able to meet this banter. `We shouldn't be in here too long,' he pointed out with dull common sense. `This is fucking mad, guys.' He seemed to loosen up a bit at that outburst, reaching down and stroking his fingers through Neco's dark curls. `Mmm.' Harry was distracted from the challenging and brilliant sight of the other two; his cock was being muscled out of his briefs, and the leg of his short rolled up a bit. Luke, he saw with a smirk of happiness, was licking the exposed tip of his cock, trapped there against his thigh, tingling gladly at Luke's tongue and lips. `Fuck yes,' he panted at him, and he grabbed the back of his head to push his face into that position more tightly; it felt great, and to some extent he was showing off his dominance and their intimacy to Hendo and this new boy. Jordan found it difficult not to just stare at the other football captain, so dazzled by discovery, the whole sordid mix-up making him even more horny and crazed. He lifted his bottom from the edge of the pool so that he could help Neco pull his underpants over his thighs, over the big tattooed trophy there, and off his knees. His cock sprang free, proudly tall and thick, and Williams was immediately sucking on it with a series of loud slurps -- Jordan continued stroking and untangling his beautiful hair, moaning his appreciation and lounging back from him. Neco's hands pushed up his shirt and he gladly finished that job, pulling it off and away to bare his taut upper body, wearing only his boots and socks, his underpants draped halfway down his calves. With grunts and groans, Maguire matched him: he watched the bigger man's shorts and briefs get yanked down by Shaw, and he started at the exposure of the other captain's cock. Jordan was more than comfortable with his own equipment, but Harry was almost comical in the size of his endowment. He stared openly at it, and his counterpart leered and growled in some private macho win, and then it disappeared into Luke's mouth. The two lads in the pool sucked noisily on the two alpha cocks, and Jordan locked eyes once more with the 6ft4 centre-back. `Wow,' he mouthed weakly at him, `fuck...' `Hey,' grunted Maguire now, and he knew what was coming before it was said: `Let's swap for a bit.' `Right,' Jordan returned. `Right...' His body, his cock and balls in particular, screamed agreement, but his heart... He looked down between his parted legs and saw Neco pull away from his hard-on, lips shining and eyes wide. He stared searchingly at him, then reached a hand to stroke the side of his face. `Neeks...?' He moved across uncertainly. Sucking on Henderson was one thing, somehow, but touching any other lad's cock, it just seemed... still wrong? He was a little frightened by the size of Harry's dick, apart from anything; but Hendo was giving him a firm, encouraging look. It was clear that Jordan was keen for him to do it, though he couldn't quite understand why -- perhaps Jordan was just keen to be sucked off by someone with a bit more confidence than his own nervous toothy efforts, he thought a little gloomily, watching as Luke replaced him. Shirtless, with sweat dribbling down his broad smooth back, Luke was pushing Jordan's legs further apart, something animal and forceful in his manner as he bent forward to lap at the Liverpool hero's bulging ball-sack, then furtively lick up the shaft. Neco felt a tremor of proud jealousy, seeing Luke attend to his captain's cock like that -- he'd had several little fits of annoyance in the past couple of months when Hendo made any reference to sex with his wife. (Even though the references had been to quietly tell him that she could not make him cum so quickly and heavily as Neco did.) But a perfect distraction from the envy was the sight of Luke's big broad bottom rising up behind him, black shorts stretched tightly over those rounded cheeks! `Come on,' Maguire growled at him, his shorts down to his ankles now and his big foot-long piece standing perfectly to attention. He curled powerful fingers gently about the back of Neco's hand, encouraging him gently forward but with the suggestion of power that could be much more forceful; with Jordan glancing admiringly this way, Neco did as he was guided, moving forward and bringing his mouth awkwardly against the side of the dick. He rubbed is lips and tongues against the side of it then trailed upwards and opened wide to take it in, still shifting his glance to the right, glad to catch Jordan staring intensely this way with a mixture of admiration and... some mutual jealousy? Harry pushed upwards into his mouth and he struggled a little to breath, pulling back against Harry's almost reluctant fingers, sitting back and gasping a little. He stared nervously up at the big beast of a football player, saw a little grimace of apology in his big face, then tried again -- this time, without Maguire's imperative hand pressuring him, just freely moving his face around the head and shaft and tickling it with his mouth before sucking on the tip and then a few more precious inches. So girthy and choking to someone who had only tentatively blown one solid cock, and always with quite gentle handling from his brotherly skipper. `Mmm,' groaned Maguire, `let's get you out of these trackies, eh lad...' Luke had to stop sucking on the beautiful Mackem prick, but only because his own stiff member was just too heavy and uncomfortable in his pants. He rose up on his knees, panting and drooling a little, grinning playfully at the Liverpool leader; he enjoyed the similarities to his usual alpha male, another very manly and respected player, captain, family man, even if physically they seemed very different. Jordan was tall and fit but much leaner and more compact than his Harry; more traditionally handsome and princely. He scooped his hands into his shorts and briefs at the side and pushed them down his thighs and buttocks to release his cock, oozing a little with pre-cum at the head. He spat in his hand and stroked it, then slid into a seated position in the gap between captains. He looked hopefully at Jordan and the North Eastern bloke responded -- he was cautious and a little reluctant, but he reached across and took hold of Luke's cock for a few strokes, and so Shaw returned that favour. He could feel his own spit slick and warm on Jordan's long dick, sliding it up and down and making him groan and gasp... but, sweetly enough, he wasn't even looking at Luke, staring onwards to the sight of Neco struggling to take more of Maguire in his mouth. Luke enjoyed this view too, proud of his own skills in that department, a year on from the first taste; he threw a thick arm about Jordan's shoulders, coddling the leaner 6ft man, stroking the back of his head sensuously and giving him another curious, optimistic stare. `Mmm,' he groaned, `that feels so good...' He began to stand a little, bringing his crotch higher, while at the same time pressing down a little at Jordan's head... but the heavily hinted meeting of the two was prevented as Henderson twisted his neck a little way and shot him a warning glance. Moody eyes, slight jerking shake of head. `No,' he said simply, refusing to lean in and reciprocate the oral attention -- fair enough, Luke thought quite cheerfully, licking his own lips and bending his knees again. He was more than happy to chow down on the Liverpool stud's cock instead...! But as he went to do so, leaning in first to kiss at the smooth rise of his chest, tasting how sweaty he was on that flushed ruddy skin, he was pushed away a little, and alarmed by a shift in the tone of Jordan's throaty moans... `No,' he was barking, quietly, across the empty pool, `he's not ready...' Maguire had enjoyed stripping Williams off, discovering the slim muscular beauty of his body, all fresh and clean unlike the sweaty three of them who had battled it out on the pitch. Item by item, he exposed the pale toned skin of Neco's body, shivering a little despite the heat of the recovery room. Harry wrapped his strong arms about him and kissed him on the shoulders, but not the neck or face -- he wasn't sure if he was doing this out of loyalty to nearby Luke, or out of some risk of offending Hendo, but some invisible etiquette guided his hands and mouth. He pulled them both up to their feet, making it easier to drag Neco's Liverpool shirt and sweatshirt off him properly, his trackies already down at his ankles. This left him in just a pair of tight black briefs that looked beautiful against his skin and below the taut map of his six-pack. He made a leering whistle before pulling them down, letting Neco toy with and stroke his own whopper as he gently rubbed his cock in return... Harry was, he knew, greedy and pushy. It wasn't long before he was turning him around, kissing the backs of his shoulders, and reaching down for what was perhaps the young lad's best feature: his round pale bubble cheeks, hints of dark downy fur between them. He ran sweaty fingers over one buttock and then began to part them, hugging a muscular arm about the teen's chest and planting a single kiss at the top of his spine... `No,' Henderson barked, very close by, and then, `He's not ready.' And then he was there, closing the short gap between them in one step, and grabbing Harry's wrist where his long index finger was about to slide between the cheeks. Maguire stared at him, almost amused by the firm intervention and the steely look in the other captain's eyes. He grinned and deferred respectfully, just landing a single firm pat on Neco's arse, and then with that same hand, taking hold of Jordan's cock. He saw a different kind of surprise and alarm on the midfielder's face, swapping from urgent protectiveness to a kind of fresh shock. He found himself touching them both, unable to quite let go of gorgeous Neco: patting and squeezing at his arse until he turned around a little and he could reach his dick, wanking it in sync with his strong-handed strokes on Jord. He grinned from one to the other, taking pleasure in the power of his position, making them both sigh and groan... he wanted more than this, but he remembered Hendo's cautious words. True enough, they didn't have long here, they couldn't just let go and really indulge themselves, not HERE. Luke was there now among them, slipping an arm about Neco. This broke them into two new pairings, and the 27-year-old turned his full attention to his senior England mate, gripping his cock a bit more tightly, looming over him by a good few inches, testing their firm athletic bodies against each other. Jordan stared intensely back at him still, and placed an indecisive palm against his big one. They jerked each other and held their faces just a few tense inches apart, both locking their strong jaws and beady eyes. `Never thought you had it in ya, Sunderland,' he muttered. `I'm full of surprises, me,' the other captain groaned back at him. `Seems that way,' Harry agreed through a deep moan of his own. Jordan stared down at it with a moment's indecision: intimidating as it was, the sheer ungainly size of Harry's prick almost made him want to sink down there and try it, just see if it challenged his mouth as much as it did his lad's. He liked a challenge, after all, competition ran in his blood, the Anfield mindset. But the same internal wall stopped him trying, just as when Luke had so politely tried it... he couldn't see himself going down on a guy who wasn't his beautiful lad. He'd never dared to go that far with Adam before his best mate moved away south, had never once thought of doing it to ANYONE until his Christmas lust was driven to boiling point in the larder and the home gym. Instead, he just jerked it in rapid pulls, and grabbed himself as well, wanking them both and staring Harry down. The moment between them felt like an extension of the goalless match! The aggressively intimate touching was another contest between he and the other major captain, another clash between the two red sides. He broke the fierce eye contact to check on the others, and saw Williams trembling on his feet with his long slim arms pulled up high... Luke was sucking quite ferociously on him, noisy and wet, and gripping his ripped thighs. Seeing him like that, pleasured and enjoyed by another, Jordan didn't feel any fresh jealousy, just pure admiration and lust. `Fuck,' he breathed. A low half-laugh from Maguire, loud enough just for him. `What a pair,' he confided admiringly. `A pair of fucking beauties we've got there, huh...?' `Yeh,' Henderson said, keen to agree but not happy that he had the vocabulary to do it yet. And just saying it, the simple agreement, was enough to pull him away from the intimidating thrill of this Yorkshire giant beside him -- he wanted his Welsh wonder instead. He moved towards him, stepping between the two burly defenders, grasping for Williams and pulling in for a kiss, not caring that the pretty mouth had been down on Maguire's cock. He cuddled him and snogged him, surprisingly unafraid for Shaw and Maguire to see him in this clinch. Below, he'd disturbed Luke's enjoyment, but the handsome southern lad recovered and swapped mouth from dick to dick, kissing and spitting and tickling at his and Neco's meats in alternating bursts. It was pleasurable but, in all honesty, irrelevant to him. He was just fixated on the feel of Neco's mouth against his, the brushing of their tongues, the passion there. He pulled their bodies tighter together and, indirectly, excluded Luke's hungry mouth from the action. He lost interest in the bodies of the two hunky defenders, eyes only for the teenager, cuddling and kissing him and grinding the fronts of their 6ft bodies together, dicks rubbing stiffly. Luke staggered back with a little giddy laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of an arm; his balance was caught by Harry's hand on his lower back, and he was pulled into a manly cuddle that matched the other guys' for passion, but a different passion: more comfortable, less urgent. He loved it anyway, enjoyed the ways their muscular forms interlocked and rubbed, enjoyed the way his captain grasped and squeezed at his heavy buttocks, teasing his hole with a few strokes that would perhaps not lead anywhere today... this was not the time and place for the good fucking that Shaw desperately craved. Not THAT, he realised, but... He was pushed back a little, held about the shoulders -- guided back a few more steps until he was sitting on the edge of the pool, his chubby arse down on the rim, his thick fluffy thighs pulled open. Harry was going down on him in an instant in that noisy, sloppy way he did. Luke groaned heavily and stretched backwards, lifting his legs up over Harry's massive shoulders to rest them there. His dick disappeared in and out of the Yorkshireman's active mouth, noisily sucking on him like a fucking hoover. Over the disturbed fringe of his dark brown hair, Luke saw for a moment the Liverpool lovers look this way, and then echo them... he watched, loving the view, as Neco slid onto his side and Jordan hunkered over him, surprisingly enthusiastic as he began to blow him. Oh, so he DID do that, eh! Fussy fucker, hehe. Luke was brought back to the immediate pleasure of his own blowjob as Harry nipped gently at the skin of his balls and then licked them in a series of long movements. Luke thought eagerly he was in for a sweaty rimjob but no, Harry was wanking him now in furiously powerful strokes, seeming to hurry to make him cum -- well, fair enough, they were meant to be showering with the rest of the team a few rooms away, so...! Harry could always make Luke cum fast now, he just knew the quirks of his whole body. He pressed two fingers into the crack of his chunky arse, not quite fingering him but teasing his crack and holding the tips by his rosebud. With his other hand, he pumped his thick generous cock until the oozing pre-cum frothed more and was then replaced with the full, creamy spill of his seed. He didn't often eat it, but he felt an urge to show off their intimacy for the others, if they were even watching. He ducked in and lapped at it, licking the salty goo from his fingers and from Luke's tool, kissing and mouthing it and making him fully whine in ecstasy. He loved the way Shaw writhed and convulsed, loved the feel of his white football socks on his own shoulders. As the sexy 25-year-old rocked with orgasm, he inserted one thick finger ever so slightly into his hole, a tremendous buzz on top of his shuddering climax. The fresh squeal seemed to echo dangerously in the quiet room, and Harry laughed heavily over it, as smug and triumphant as he felt every time he brought his beautiful man to the edge. He sat back and pulled Luke forward into him, wrapping his arms about the middle of his back and cuddling their sweat-drenched bodies together again, stroking and gripping him. He buried his clammy face in his chest, feeling the damp skin and the light fluff at the centre of his chest. He bit one nipple and made him whine some more, and then pulled away -- Harry looked over his shoulder to watch a similar scene opposite them, the purring Welsh voice of the teenager staying low and quiet but his whole lean body rocking with pleasure that revealed his peak. `Oh yes!' the handsome 19-year-old cried with sudden volume, and Harry found himself sniggering fondly at Neco's inability to maintain a safe quiet. Jordan tasted him in his mouth for a second time, just as he had after Christmas dinner. He gasped for breath, a little frightened at the realness of how Harry and Luke now stared at him, but also proud of the way he could handle and pleasure his young lover. And also, now, preoccupied with the throb of his own erection and the need to relieve it. He leant back down and kissed the Welsh beauty on the prick once more, tasting more of his saltiness, then reached down to stroke himself, climbing up from the pool floor a little. Almost instantly, Neco was lunging forward, panting as he dived in and went to suck on him some more, their bodies sprawling backwards over the soft bumpy lining of the recovery pool where so many Liverpool players had rested and recuperated. Jordan lay flat on his back and pressed his palms on the floor, staring down his strong body at Neco's face lifting and falling delicately against his privates, bring him closer and closer. But he could see a lethargy in the younger lad, so spent by the force of his own orgasm. He kept pulling back and gasping for air, looking a little drained and wary. Jordan didn't want him to have to go on if he was losing focus and feeling spun out -- he glanced to the right and found that Harry had disentangled from his left-back and was stood not far away, wanking himself firmly. He grinned down with that same expression of invitation and competition. The 19-year-old slunk back apologetically, resting his bare back on the side of the pool and just watching with bleary eyes as his captain got up to his feet and faced the other alpha male. There was something so confrontational and exciting in their manner, the two strong leaders facing off in the centre of the round dip, both naked but for the socks and boots they still wore, mucky and streaked with the dirt of the Anfield pitch, mud that was smeared in little patches on their legs now too, and perhaps in dabs on Neco's own body. He grinned to see them grab each other's pricks, watching their faces pull very close, almost reenacting the little coin flip beginning of a match, two captains at war. And he looked briefly past them, around them, at the way Luke now lounged. The robust left-back grinned with the same dizzy satisfaction as him, still playing lazily with the flop of his cock -- he smirked this way and Neco met his dimpled smile, sensing a kindred spirit of sorts in the rugged beta male. Neco's eyes slid back to the confrontational jerk-off. Harry was leaning on Jordan, pressing down on one of his shoulders and bringing their brows together. He could see their hands going crazy, their arms bulging with muscle. The tension showed in every inch of Hendo's back, especially the tight clench of his smooth glutes. Neco just wanted to lean in and kiss it. And then one of them was groaning more loudly and finally, and he realised it was his own Jordan, he recognised the sound of his climax. Not so much jealous as congratulatory, he dragged himself up against the pool side and onto his feet, moving closer so he could grab Henderson from behind and kiss his neck and back as he rocked with happiness. Luke moved closer, just in time to see his captain explode with cum. He stood beside him, rubbing his back and the hollow of his lower back, and watched the giant cock shoot its streaks of white against Jordan's six-pack. Equally, Harry's cock, crotch and lower abdomen was dotted with Jordan's load. Luke looked at all this with a flash of lust in his own eyes, then he laughed, and cuddled at his skipper from the side, resting into his shoulder muscle. `Guys,' he whispered loudly for them, `we should move. Sorry.' He felt like he had to be the one to say it -- the first to orgasm and perhaps the quickest to recover. He laughed some more, light-hearted sniggers, and stroked and kissed at Harry a bit more before seeking out his clothes -- his sodden briefs that he stretched over his boots and back up his legs, his tangled shorts from the corner they had landed in, his sweaty shirt that was draped randomly over a heater at the wall. Adjusting its fit, he turned and grinned about him at the others -- at Harry still tottering about naked with his dick swinging loose, at Jordan struggling with underpants, at Neco searching for his trackies. Well, United-Liverpool had been a goalless anti-climax, but THIS... he grinned happily, tugging at his crotch and adjusting the tightness of his undies, then stooped to pick up Harry's shirt for him and tossing it at the skipper. `Come on,' he urged gently, squeezing his arm and moving determinedly for the doors. He stood guard there, inching it open and glancing out into the corridor to check it was empty, then pushing it ajar and holding it open with his own body as Jordan, still fiddling with his shorts, came skittering past. Harry too came moving past, patting him once on the cheek as he staggered by into the corridor. And Neco came last, hugging his sweatshirt to his chest and his cheeks glowing pink -- he looked the guiltiest of them all, since the other three could pass for post-match exhaustion, but he hadn't played a minute. Shaw dropped a hand to his shoulder in passing, giving him an admiring smile. `You're quite something, aren't you?' he chuckled under his breath, taking in the flushed handsome features and the disturbed mop of his curling hair. Neco just stared modestly back at him, mouth hanging open a little and dark lashes fluttering. `I think your captain there is pretty fucking fond of you, you know that?' Williams nodded once, then made a nervous single giggle. `I think so.' `Enjoy that,' Shaw advised simply. `It seems like a special thing, mate.' He patted him on the back of his shoulder and nodded him along, pushing the doors shut after them and taking slow lazy strides down the passage. Henderson had already disappeared and now Maguire too, rounding the corner in a rush -- well, they were captains, they would be missed more quickly. Somebody in the Home and Away camps was probably complaining about their absence right now, maybe the managers. Luke and Neco, on the other hand, traipsed indulgently into the tunnel and towards their respective changing rooms. The young Liverpool player paused on the way into the Home rooms, turning to look over his shoulder: his expression was one of guilt and uncertainty, but when he caught Luke's smirking blue eyes, he smiled ear to ear, something grateful and relieved in his sagging body language. Luke saluted him silently and laughed again, thinking about what a confused little twink he'd been at 19, still years away from any bold experimentation of his most secret desires. The teenager disappeared into the noise and steam of Liverpool's dressing rooms, and Luke went his way too, stomping wearily through into the sweaty air of the Manchester United base. Ahead of him, Maguire was addressing the gaffer and a few other senior players, arms folded and expressions serious, professional -- for a second though, Luke caught his eye and grinned secretively at him, and Harry winked back, captain and lover.