Date: Thu, 25 Mar 2021 20:55:01 +0000 From: writer guy Subject: Premiership Lads Part 250 Part 250: Four Lions He was trying his best to just enjoy the excitement of the day, but he had felt tense with the enormity of it since he stepped into the taxi. Now, with the slick modern frontage of the national training centre rising ahead to the left, his plump buttocks tensed against the leather seats and he gazed out of the passenger window with the same boyish awe that he had felt arriving here for the first time aged 19 and about to play in a World Cup. It had been a long break since international duty for Luke Shaw, and even though a return had been tipped by many of his admirers since last year, he'd still felt a crazy pleasure at the call from Southgate himself and the prospect of joining the boys here for this brief spell of games, the last before the big Euro tournament that lay ahead. He felt both the intense pleasure of being recognised and included, and the intense pressure and expectation of living up to the comeback; a poor showing this week would see him left behind in Blighty when the lads travelled to face Europe's best. With his usual polite charm, the 25-year-old thanked and bantered with his driver and greeted the attractive female FA employee who came to help him with his things. His chest swelled with pride beneath the plain black sweatshirt and he followed her across the broad entrance area, still staring up at the signage for St George's Park with a real sense of wonder. Luke stepped in through the automatic slide of doors and fell into a series of similarly genial greetings; it was a surprise to find that there had not been such a huge turnover in the national team's managing staff since his youthful spell with them, a number of seasoned figures loudly pronouncing how glad they were to see him back here. He grinned bashfully behind the tight grip of his face mask, nodding eagerly at the approval and warmth of the attendants who signed him in and started issuing him with a series of packages. Ambling just ahead of him in the entrance rooms of the training centre were a couple of other recognisable faces, and he waved brightly at the giggling enjoyment of Declan Rice and Ben Chilwell, the London players seeming to have arrived together. Luke caught a brief glimpse of the tightness of Chilwell's tracksuit bottoms and the lofty physique of Rice's body, the two perky players chatting flirtatiously with a middle-aged woman behind one welcome desk -- the burly left-back chided himself for this early afternoon ogling and seedy thought, reminding himself that he was here on serious business and needed to be at his absolute best. No time or energy for having his head turned by the attractive company... It was just that seeing confidently grinning Ben brought back memories of last summer, when he had been amongst the select gathering for Luke's last birthday. He turned back to the job at hand, passing over some ID and paperwork to a member of staff who was also firing a volley of information to his ears -- hotel arrangements, timings for this evening's meal, the travel plans for the games themselves. Information that Luke knew he would need refreshed on at several points; he'd forgotten how overwhelming and forceful the England machinery was by comparison to ordinary club life. The forty-something bloke in front of him paused in the act of handing over a small envelope with his hotel room keys in, and Luke couldn't suppress the satisfied grin that lit his lips when the detail was confirmed. `Sure you know Maguire well enough to room together, right?' There was a jokey smile and a laugh from the man, Luke's hands crumpling the envelope a little excited as he smiled pleasantly back -- oh, if only you knew, mate! It obviously did not escape Shaw's attention that it was very different arriving here and re-joining this team in his current circumstances. He supposed that he might have felt quite nervous and awkward fitting in with the Three Lions squad, except that entering the line-up at the side of his captain and lover made him feel indescribably secure -- it had seemed likely they would be roomed together for the duration of the short campaign, and the confirmation just added to his positive mood as he proceeded through the rigmarole of welcome and orientation. The young United player looked over his shoulder at the arrival of the next tracksuited lad, catching sight of La Liga star and seasoned England player Kieran Trippier being signed in and, beyond this, young Jude Bellingham emerging from a taxi out on the broad concourse outdoors. Luke turned away from them, marching through the motions of being handed special packs of new England kit -- wow, he could not wait to get up to his hotel room and try some of this on, especially the proper white match kit that looked so iconic to him! Like every other young footballer, Luke had grown up dreaming of the England crest on his pec, and his teenage taste of it had only made the absence harder to bear during his wilderness years of injury and disappointment. Beyond these duties, he found himself in a very spacious meeting room where a number of the newly registered arrivals were relaxing in different ways, or engaged in cheery conversation with the extensive staff that managed this big operation. His precedents, Rice and Chilwell, were already exiting through some double doors at the far side of the hall, presumably moving onwards towards the attractive older hotel building that sat incongruously alongside the modern training complex -- but other guys, having maybe checked in already, seemed to just be hanging out here. He could see all three of the selected goalkeepers -- Henderson, Johnstone, Pope -- deep in conference along some rows of seating, snacking from a finger buffet by the wall; he could also make out the pensive solitary figure of Eric Dier by the windows, seeming very busy with his phone; Raheem Sterling and Conor Coady seemed to be focused on welcoming and inducting Aston Villa's Ollie Watkins around the scattering of long low tables. Inevitably though, Luke's eyes found their target not far ahead of him, at the closer end of the big conference room. At 6ft4, Harry Maguire tended to stand out in most gatherings, though it was particularly hard for Luke not to look instantly to the towering presence of his boyfriend. Within a moment or two, the Manchester United captain was breaking from the serious-looking dialogue he was having with a woman Luke vaguely recognised as the team's senior nutritionist. Arms folded tightly over his broad chest, already wearing a Three Lions polo shirt in dark blue that hugged tightly at his shoulders and biceps, the big man came urgently this way, closing the gap between them in just a few strides. Luke, his arms loaded with the things that had been delivered to him in the entrance process, smiled coyly at his skipper, pausing in front of him in this public setting. `What time did you get here, then?' he asked, feeling one of Harry's large strong hands reach and stroke at his clothed elbow. It was a tender and loving gesture, especially here. `Not long,' Maguire told him dismissively. `You're here! This is amazing, isn't it?' The blocky face broke with a happy smile that rendered his features crooked. `I wasn't sure how long you'd be. You got everything? Here, let me-` As much of the stuff was manhandled from his arms, Luke swelled with happiness -- not just at this showy greeting from his teammate, but at the genuine and giddy excitement he'd displayed at Luke's call-up in the past week. It meant a lot to Shaw to know that Maguire was so thrilled for him, loudly celebrating it to anyone who would listen over the weekend. `I can handle it all,' he chuckled softly, a little conscious of their not looking TOO chummy, and also not wanting to look emasculated and foolish in front of any of his new teammates -- but Harry was dumping the crinkled packages of kit onto the table near them, and giving him a firmer pat on the arm. Luke met his eyes suspiciously, seeing something of a smirk in his crooked smile. `Here,' the big Yorkshireman grunted, `go to the loos just past that door.' `What? I need to go and get checked in properly and then see if any of this kit fits my fat arse-` `Just go,' Harry grunted quietly, not looking at him but taking another bag from him and piling it with the other stuff. He nodded his `slabhead' over towards some other doors, grinning tightly to himself but not saying or showing anything more. Standing now with just the straps of his backpack over his broad shoulders, Luke smiled back in a daze, then unhooked this last luggage from his back and strolled away, making his way slowly through the doors and away from the publicness of the conference room hangout area. Through the doors, a male sign on another entrance signalled the loos he'd been directed to, and he pushed it open, entering the clinical cleanliness of a narrow strip room of urinals, two cubicles at the end. He took a few dawdling steps down it, checking out his handsome profile for a vain moment in the mirrors, then scratching at his patchy brown beard. A single moment, then the door behind was opening again, and in bundled Maguire, trying very hard not to hurry, but his long limbs revealing some urgency as he approached. No sooner had the door fallen shut again then one of his hands was slapping at Luke's rump through his charcoal coloured sweatpants, and his face was stooping almost close enough to kiss. `In that cubicle, now,' the captain demanded fiercely. Shaw sniggered but complied, shooting a nervous glance at the door but hurrying into one of the two narrow cubicles and twisting to face Maguire as he piled in with him, shoving the door closed behind them and delivering the threatened kiss. Their lips rubbed and chins brushed aggressively, and Harry's hands slid invasively beneath his jumper. Luke sighed into his lover's mouth, taken back by the urgency and neediness of his boyfriend -- they had only gone a day without seeing each other, their reunion here in Surrey was not after some extended gap...! `It's just seeing you here,' Harry muttered in explanation. `My fucking Lion stud. God, I want you.' `Well, you got me,' Luke told him, blushing with the strength of this affection -- he meant it sweetly and generally, but it became quickly obvious that Harry meant it more specifically: he wanted him RIGHT NOW. Luke was pushed back quite heavily into the wall at their side and held there while Harry kissed him on the throat and pushed his hands down inside his pants. Ohhh, yes. Shaw, already high on the excitement of his England return, gasped out his enjoyment as his cock and balls were fondled first through his tight undies, and then skin-to-skin. And in front of him, the heavy breathing and glinting eyes disappeared down -- Maguire sank to his knees, dragging Luke's pants down his fluffy thighs, and his mouth was greedily upon the chubby semi, taking it in to prove his love and desire. All the 25-year-old defender could do was gasp silently into the air and press back to the wall with every muscle, allowing his rising erection to be swallowed into the hot fierce mouth of England's defensive giant. The rushed blowjob ushered in a great first afternoon and evening for Luke, indulging in scattered kickabouts and casual fitness work with the other men in the late afternoon sun, then an upbeat first group meal in the hotel restaurant. Day 1 of serious training was met with determined smiles and fuck-loads of confidence as a result -- it felt great to dash around and prove himself in all the official gear, a comfortable return that just felt so right to him. Every guy he spoke to was full of compliments and positivity, making him feel more like a VIP than an uncertain outsider. Wednesday ticked along in a series of well-organised sessions all designed to build this confidence and camaraderie, their Thursday night qualifier match hovering on the edge of it all. It was a crisp and sunny spring day, perfect conditions for training, and Luke found himself enjoying it all so much that he started to wonder if Man Utd training next week would be a crushing disappointment! In the lighter post-lunch work, he found himself paired with another revived defensive choice, taking a series of runs and passing set-pieces with his Manchester City rival, and enjoying the upbeat laughter of the lofty Yorkshire lad. `This feels fucking quality, don't it?' hollered John Stones, stopping the ball beneath his boot then chipping it lightly into Luke's chest. `I mean -- just being here, even if we end up on the bench tomorrow night, I'm buzzin'.' `Same,' he agreed readily, letting the ball drop into a flurry of keep-ups then passing it back to the other player. `Just great for us both to be getting a second chance, huh?' The tall 26-year-old nodded enthusiastically, stopping and not returning the ball this time, just resting his hands on his hips and taking a proud surveying look across the stretching fields at the scampering work of the other men. `What a strong team,' the Man City centre-back reviewed. `And even stronger with us two in the back, eh?!' Luke grinned and proceeded to compliment the City man, usually an arch enemy, having followed his return to form and surprisingly prolific goals in recent months -- a rapid series of plaudits came back at him from the 6ft2 Barnsley fella, making him laugh and hate that he probably sounded like he was fishing for it. But there was a spark of comradeship between the two Manchester defenders, Luke seeing his own gratitude and ambition reflected in the big jolly centre-back. `You know what,' John said, `I just wasn't in the right place to represent my country, not for the past few years. I was barely in the right place to represent my club, for fuck's sake. It was such a bad time for a while, and it was mostly in my head, not even fitness.' `Same,' Luke mused honestly. `I guess in the last year and a bit, things for me have just...' He paused, instinctively staring a short distance away to a physical tussle going on between Maguire and Mings, and remembering that he could hardly be honest about that particular factor. `Well, yeah,' John was mumbling back at him, passing the ball lightly to him. `You're a daddy and all that now -- it changes ya, shit like that, aye?' `Yeah, yeah,' he told him rapidly -- it was true, after all, or a very large part of the truth. `I'm just so much more settled now, so much more grown-up, I suppose. And... yeah, lots of that comes from my own life outside of football, from... feeling really loved. Supported.' Stones gave him a sweet quiet smile. `That's cute. And aye, I really know what you mean.' He scratched at his shaggy dark hair, bashful for a moment. `I've just really fixed up my own problems, it was a rough period after my break-up and... yeah, I wasn't a great guy back then, I know, but right now things are...' The City player seemed to stare contemplatively into the middle-distance in the same way that Luke had found himself seeking out Harry, and he grinned appreciatively at the surprisingly romantic nature of the big brash northern lad, who he remembered and knew more as a wild party boy who embarrassed himself on team nights out. `I'm glad,' Luke told him. `She must be really right for you.' `Hmm? Oh, aye. Totally. Yeah, she is. It's her, all her. Um.' `It makes a difference,' he thought aloud, dabbing the ball back to his partner and taking a few slow hops on down the line of their travel, turning his body so he could stare back across the pitch again. Maguire was leaping majestically to head a ball back towards his big counterpart, all of his leg muscles exaggerated by the arial move. `It's mad how much better we play when everything else feels right, and you just feel... supported, safe.' He heard the sweet vulnerability in his own voice and turned to Stones, expecting to be laughed at -- but the other defender looked serious and thoughtful, patting his large hands against his abdomen. `Aye,' he just kept saying in a deep, thoughtful tone. `And now we're here, I suppose we just have to prove we're worth it.' `Oh, we're worth it,' Stones said cheekily, `have you seen the pair of us? Strongest buggers here. See you on the starting sheet tomorrow night, mate. Manchester is Manchester when we're here, right, no City and no fucking scum, oops, I mean United.' A jovial wink and a punch in the arm. Luke smacked him back and laughed happily, more than ready to dismiss Premiership dynamics with any of the many rivals here on the squad. Especially not a big sweet bloke like this who actually knew how much it meant to be back, and seemed to have emerged from a similar difficult period to his own -- there were many likeable blokes here who Luke had enjoyed catching up with over the last twenty-four hours, but he found himself developing a particular and surprising fondness for the City player. The shrill yelp of a whistle called them back from their paired exercise, and he found himself hugged briefly about the shoulders by the slightly taller guy, steered back towards the team talk that would end their afternoon work and signal a break for individual fitness consultations with a whole bunch of fancy specialists. Dinnertime brought more communal laughter and high spirits among the England players. Luke was seated between Everton's Dominic Calvert-Lewin and Tottenham's Harry Kane, quite happy to remain quiet and enjoy the two strikers' bold appraisal of how many goals they were expecting against San Marino, Albania, and Poland respectively. He was particularly content to just murmur along positively with the chat because at the far side of the table, Harry was positioned with Chelsea men Reece James and Ben Chilwell on either side of him, and since the two Stamford Bridge boys were gossiping eagerly about their ex-manager and some new job rumours, the two United players could make sporadic knowing looks across the table -- their eyes briefly locking and amused little expressions flicking across their faces. Even though his eyes had been briefly occupied with admiring a couple of guys on arrival, Shaw was too besotted to find anything interesting in the array of athletic men when Maguire was right in front of him. He wanted to lunge across the table and feed the messy dessert of fruit salad to him with his own hands, then kiss and lick the juices from his face, chest, crotch. The threat of a hard-on teased his boxer shorts and he sniggered to himself before adjusting his posture and making himself more comfortable in the seat, tuning back into the striker chat. Luke boxed away his anticipation for later, when he would be alone in the hotel suite with his captain, and relaxed into the convivial evening: soft drinks in the bar area and some tapes of classic England games being screened for their inspiration on a huge TV. He sought out Stones for another chat, then found himself playing a game of pairs pool with Lingard against Rice and Mount. It was during this innocent spell that he noticed Maguire again, hunched at the bar side-by-side with another of their Manchester nemeses. Harry was stooped slightly as he conversed with another England defender, and the 30-year-old right-back was lounged complacently back with elbows on the bar, all dirty grins and suspicious eyes. There was just something about Kyle Walker -- something both instantly sexy, Luke thought, and ominously playful. The pair of the senior defensive players grinning and chuckling together was somehow alarming rather than adorable, and he quickly registered why -- well, he knew exactly what they'd got up to here not so long ago! Seeing Kane about the place, their sombre inarticulate captain, it was difficult to match him with the reports of his sluttish ways, though Shaw now wondered if that explained why he wore such seemingly sprayed-on trackies all the time, showing off his broad rump as he dashed to and fro on the training ground. Luke had mostly enjoyed hearing about how Maguire and co had made use of the Hotspur, but he was not immune to possessive jealousy. Now, he found the close whisperings of Maguire and Walker to be irksome and disturbing -- it seemed to dilute his boyfriend's delight at having him here, if he was also excited to be back with other playmates. This was petty, maybe, but Luke couldn't help how he felt. `Oi,' Lingard barked, nudging him impatiently. `Are you taking your shot or am I doing all the work here, mate?' Luke turned embarrassedly back to his teammate and picked up his cue. `Right, yep.' He was trying his best to be chummy and close again with Jesse now that there was some distance between them, the erratic midfielder enjoying his West Ham stay with his new bestie Rice, who was now giggling and rubbing elbows with that Chelsea twink Mount. Luke took a last suspicious glare at the bar area and then did his work at the pool table, fucking up his shot and earning more disapproval from Lingard. Despite some embarrassment over his petty feelings, he sought out Harry immediately after the pool game ended, refusing a rematch and suggesting that Jesse find a more skilled accomplice. He tried to look cool and casual, sidling through the bar area and catching the United captain alone again, pawing through a newspaper at the same spot by the bar, Walker nowhere to be seen. `Hey,' he murmured, poking in the arm and leaning in next to him. `Hey babe,' murmured Harry in a secretive voice, sidelong smiles. `Finishing losing with Lings?' `What were you talking to Kyle about?' he found himself demanding a little hotly. Harry seemed unfazed, just raised his eyebrows. `Oh, right, no small-talk, then...' Luke coloured and looked away, slightly regretting his bluntness. `I just saw you -- I mean, I just wondered what -- Well, you looked like you were having a good laugh, so I...' He could hear how lame and immature he sounded. `Just wondered what was so funny. That's all.' Harry gave him a calmly amused look, then turned the pages of his newspaper with dismissive quiet. Luke let out a huffy breath, feeling the burn in his cheeks. `I'm not being weird,' he added quickly. `I was just wondering. That's all.' `Good. Because we're all mates here, aren't we? I'm allowed to talk to a City player. You gonna tell Ole on me...? Ha ha.' His expression softened a little, a gentle wink. `Relax, baby.' `Right, yeah. Same. Ha.' He hesitated, a little self-conscious of his awkward behaviour, but then gripped with a fresh wave of lust, the way he had felt watching Harry in action during training -- the way he had felt being hurried into a toilet cubicle and blown to completion within minutes of arriving at the England camp. `It's just I can't wait to get you upstairs,' he hissed quietly. `Pay you back for yesterday's special greeting, you big beast.' He licked his upper lip suggestively, giving intense bedroom eyes to the taller and older man, then backing stiffly away and leaving him to his newspaper, making sure to swing his hips a little as he turned away from him to disappear through the room, able to feel Harry's beady eyes trace the motion of his full arse. Their room was large, a certain grandeur about the country hotel that formed basecamp for the Three Lions when on English soil. It was definitely a step up from the usual city hotels that Luke was used to in the constant travel of the Premiership. He found himself fussing curiously around it at the start of his second night in it, inspecting the fixtures and fittings and re-examining its dark view of the grounds and nearby training pitches for the dozenth time. It was pure sexual thrill that had ants in his pants, unable to just sit still and wait for Harry to join him. It had been his idea for them to retire upstairs at different times, slightly anxious about being riskily public -- even though there were a few good lads here who already knew about their behind-closed-doors relationship. But now, up here on his own and freshened up, he found himself impatient and greedy for their night together in one of the two big luxury beds. He heard the footsteps in the corridor, and he paused at the side of the room, gently posing with his arms leaning into the sill and his arse pushed back -- stripped to clingy white boxer briefs below the baggy t-shirt, ready for big Harry to catch sight of his body. But just as the lock clicked and the door began to open, he heard low manly voices -- two of them, not just one -- and he corrected himself, standing up and losing the cheeky smirk from his bearded chops. In loomed Maguire, but so too did Walker, the stocky 5ft10 bloke barging his way into the suite with a bottle in one hand and the other scratching the crotch of his slim-fit tracksuit bottoms. `Hey,' Luke said awkwardly, at the same time as a brash `Wotcha' from the City man. Over his shoulder, Harry flashed him a lopsided and apologetic grin, patting Kyle's shoulder and giving him a wave. Their apparent guest was muscling over to the counter and fetching glasses, and behind his back, Luke mouthed a hesitant `What the fuck...?' at his alpha male. `Just a nightcap,' Maguire said, rubbing his palms together and shutting the door. Still dressed in the same casual England tracksuit as Walker, he strode fully into the room and made a pleading grimace. `You don't mind, do you, Luke...?' Looking at him there in his majestic form, Shaw could only nod weakly and push back the anticipation -- fine, pleasure deferred. `I brought this,' Kyle was explaining as he sloshed out amber liquid into four small glasses and began passing them around. `It's about £600 a shot, so get that down your throat and enjoy it.' He leered at Luke as the glass was pushed into his hands, then backed off and dropped himself heavily into one of the wicker seats at the foot of a bed. Luke was not yet a whiskey guy, though people kept assuring him that by 30 he would be; he sipped tentatively at the throat-burning liquor and sat himself on the foot of his bed, quietly acquiescent as the other two raved about the quality of the booze as if they were connoisseurs and not just two Sheffield yobs with money to burn. Half-listening, he looked past them, clocking the fourth glass that still waited -- he was just about to point this out when there was a flurry of knocks at the door. Harry lunged that way, and Kyle looked visibly delighted: in came John, his tracksuit also traded for comfier bedclothes like Luke, a loos vest and some long grey shorts. He grinned his big trademark grin as he joined them, quickly passed his drink by Kyle. `Bottoms up,' the Barnsley lad called to them, raising his glass. `To the returning champs,' Harry grunted, looking at Luke with gratifying fondness. `Aye,' Kyle agreed firmly, `to two fucking legends back in the family. Welcome back, boyos. I'm proud.' Luke got up, gladly clinking glasses with them -- he felt conscious of his sulky impatience at the small gathering and fixed his attitude, cheered by the little tribute. He took another sip and tried to convince himself it didn't taste like ash and smoke. Harry was moving closer and grabbing him about the shoulders in a matey fashion that pulled him back a little, was a bit more tactile and enclosing than he expected; he sank back to where he sat and down came Harry to sit next to him there, while John went to take the other chair, poised opposite to Kyle. `Just the one,' Stones murmured happily. `Gotta be fresh, ain't we?' `Sure,' Walker agreed, lifting his bare feet and planting them heavily over the other man's thighs. `Fresh as daisies, the four of us. Easy days. Ain't that right, United boys?' `Really fresh,' Maguire muttered through a thick laugh. `Clear heads,' Shaw contributed quietly, cradling the drink, and continuing to be surprised by the way the big strong arm folded about his shoulder muscles, squeezing him a bit closer, distracting him from listening to the jokey comments of the other two defensive players. He became even more distracted as he was pulled right in against the bigger man's body, and felt the brush of his mouth somewhere on his hairline, just by his ear. He turned to the left, towards him, intending to bat him away and laugh at this behaviour, dismissive of any risky gestures... but Harry caught him by the chin in his other hand, tilting it and grinning into a slow soft kiss that caught his murmur of protest. Luke could only clench against him, held and snogged... he felt Harry's hand slide down over his broad firm chest, down further, moving towards the hem of the tshirt and the package of his white pants. Wresting from the kiss, he twisted his head, anxious to see the other guy's response -- and he found himself watching another kiss, Kyle leaning forward off his seat and John stooping to tongue-wrestle with his fellow City man. Oh. `Like I said,' Harry growled in his ear. `Just a nightcap.' Luke felt a shiver of excitement. Okay, he'd wanted the big man to himself... but this was interesting. He parted his legs to allow Harry a groping feel of his crotch, rubbing sideways against him, his eyes still trained on the passionate kissing of their counterparts. He turned to look questioningly at his man, who grinned at him in one of his cute and less authoritative moments -- his expression seemed to ask permission for this mischief. Luke just grinned and kissed him, nipping his lip with his teeth -- but quickly their closeness was disturbed as Maguire made to get up. He was briefly resistant but then encouraged to his feet and guided by the hand, over toward the other two. He felt like a piece of prize meat, edged in front of the seated pair with Harry holding him at the side, and both City players turning to ogle him -- Kyle's face all filth, John's bright with friendly interest. Walker reached out to give him a stroke across the front of his bulge, making him tense and sigh. Harry rubbed at his neck and shoulder and gently bit his earlobe. John was giving him an encouraging grin while parting his strong legs and massaging at Kyle's bare feet that sat there. John then promptly began to remove his vest, exposing the lean hard muscles of his upper body -- it was a move that the other guys began to quickly follow. Luke still felt a certain insecurity about his body after the fat-shaming of years ago, soon after he had been dropped from the England squad last time -- but Harry's hands rolling up his tshirt were reassuring and protective, and he joined the other three in baring his strong chest. It was the tattooed art gallery that made him stare with most interest at Kyle's bulky form. But then his eyes were gently closing in erotic tenderness, held and kissed from behind by the 6ft4 brute -- while Kyle slid off the seat to kneel on the carpet and kiss him around the tummy, stroking and grasping at each of his thighs. Kyle left him alone though once John stood up and began to push down his shorts... a glimpse of the long prominent dick that swung free was enough to have the 25-year-old salivating, and he began to kneel down too, body brushing at Kyle's, so that the pair of them could turn and begin to suck at their lovers. Luke mouthed hungrily at Harry's heavy dick, struggling his pants and trackies down his hairy legs so he could step out of them and be fully nude. He sucked on him but out of the corner of his eye he watched Kyle do the same to John -- it was strange and exciting to see the rough blokey right-back going down on a lad like this, even though he'd heard about him fucking Kane that time. From above, Harry stroked at his hair and sighed his name languidly. `God, I bet John-boy wishes I had your skills,' he heard Kyle rasp, and he stopped sucking to laugh -- next to him, the broad-bodied Sheffield man was casually jerking at John's significantly large hard-on, but staring interestedly this way. John himself looked embarrassed by the claim, but Harry was sniggering in a filthy appreciation. `Go on,' he muttered. `Show Stonesy your skills, babe...' Luke enjoyed being called `babe' in front of anyone else, some validation of their closeness. And he was impressed to see what it was flopped around like a ferret in John's blue City shorts. Between these two factors, he shuffled between options quite gladly, moving aside to replace Kyle, bringing his face to the warm crotch and lapping at the red tip. Harry's cock came rubbing against his cheek as he did it and he felt Kyle, surprisingly, lean in to kiss his shoulder and back. Luke mouthed at the thick tool with relish, enjoying the closeness of the four of them, but also glad when they began to move from the brush of carpet and up onto the beds. He found himself recoupled with Harry, who was grabbing at the front and back of his boxers as he dragged him down to the bed, while Kyle sprawled out beside them and allowed his tall lover to stoop down and nosh him off. He was moved onto his side, spooned and fondled, able to watch the other two whilst feeling Harry's fingers creep into the back of his undies and begin to finger between his chunky glutes. `Mmmm,' he moaned gladly, loving the feeling and the view. `That's it,' Harry moaned filthily, `suck that big cock, John.' It was exiting to hear his voyeur's pleasure while also feeling his tough fingers down his crack, rubbing close to his hole and getting it ready for more. Luke's erection stretched and leaked at the front of the boxers until they were pushed further down and it could spring free to rub on the bedsheets. Kyle reached over and closed a fist about it, beginning to play with him while his own dick was slobbered over. Fuck -- it was also beautiful and exciting that Luke felt just about ready to cum at the slightest touch! Fortunately, he held on. He leaned over and began to kiss and lick at Kyle's chest, sucking briefly on one hard nipple -- his arse stuck up behind him so that Harry could continue to probe and rub it. Then, deliciously, more than that -- he felt the breathy moans on his cheeks and then it was a mouth rather than a hand that opened his cheeks and explored his crack. Fuck, as if Harry was really going to rim him in front of these guys, wow -- he knelt there, licking at Kyle's six pack, while his big cheeks were parted and the long muscular tongue began to probe him. Oh yes. John lifted from the cock he was sucking and spared it for Luke instead. He took it in his lips, third cock in a row -- thick and tasty, but not so huge as John or as ridiculously endowed as Harry. But the City stud made the most exciting growls and pants of pleasure at it, clearly very sensitive and excited. Luke felt hands -- Kyle's or John's -- stroke his hair, neck, shoulders, while his arse was kissed and breathed on and spat at and then really heavily licked. His hole twitched in anticipation. When Harry began to finger him again, he had to lift up form the cock-sucking, straightening up on his knees and resting against the muscles of the captain's frame. Maguire was going for it: two long fingers deep inside him, thrusting in and out in a frigging motion, making him whimper and gasp. He felt lips on his cock and looked down to find Walker now turning his glistening wet lips on him. What a beautiful sight -- that close-shaven head bobbing and those sucked in cheeks as he savoured Shaw's own hefty weapon. In turn, Stones was blowing him again, his eyes lifting up cheekily to watch the rest of the action. `Your tight arse feels amazing,' Harry was telling him. `Tastes good,' Kyle grunted too, running his tongue against his glans. `What about the back?' Oh fuck -- really? Luke was manhandled into a new position, dropping to hands and knees and planting his mouth about Harry's meat while his chunky arse was rubbed and stroked by Kyle instead... his cheeks were pushed open and then he felt the spit hit his crack before stubbly cheeks pressed in and a second tongue worked at his ring. Holy fuck, his own hard-on leaked pre-cum and he clenched to resist an early orgasm, sandwiched between cock and tongue. John was beside them too and Harry seemed to be jerking him off, the two very tall men looming at the side and grabbing at one another's muscles. From there they tumbled from position to position, Luke usually with a mouthful. He twisted gladly from dick to dick, enjoying the different lengths and shapes of these well-hung men, and rubbing up against different sets of muscle -- the heavy stretch of his big captain, the tighter leanness of his City friend, the bulky firmness of Kyle's almost rugby physique. Somehow he ended up on his back, and John too -- they were side by side and reaching for each other's quivering cocks, laughing at the mutual gesture and both obviously thinking back on their innocent afternoon conversations. Luke supposed that John must be as oblivious as himself about the other man's situation, and he began to think about the comments they'd shared -- maybe they had even more in common than they realised, their comebacks supported by the attention of a rugged bloke next to them on the football pitch! As they jerked each other off, they were attended to elsewhere by the other pair. Luke and John both had their legs up and spread, and one of the other two pushing down there. Harry's tongue muscled and snaked against his arse-crack and his fingered hole, rimming him and making his back arch -- Kyle was doing the same to Kyle, making a real wet noise about it, and provoking deep groans of delight from the prone centre-back. When John leaned over to kiss him, his first instinct was to pull back, unsure about snogging another guy... but it did seem like something more likely to arouse than annoy the dominant bugger, so he went for it, feeling the oddness of a new mouth on his. Sure enough, Harry approved -- he'd lifted up form the job of tonguing his hole and was sniggering heavily. `I think our lads are getting on,' he grunted at Kyle. Now for some actual fucking -- both of them at once, side by side. They kissed and pawed at each other but with less interest, their attentions now fixed on the way their arses were lifted and penetrated, the two brutish older men going to work. Luke loved it, always loved being opened up and stretched by the girth of the big Yorkshire cock, but it was even more exciting with both of the Sheffield men working up a sweat and pumping their muscles -- his eyes slid from the great view of Harry powering into him to the shiny muscular profile of Kyle humping madly into John. `Fuck yes, you -- feel -- so -- tight!' Walker was ranting, met with deep laddish laughter by Stones. Maguire didn't form words, just eager pants, pushing over at him and snarling as he did. Luke felt the deep internal pleasure of it, saw more bubbles and drips of pre-cum on his foreskin and down the side of his shaft. He felt like if he dared to touch his cock now it would just explode. `Are we swapping?' Kyle grunted, and Luke felt uncertain about the idea -- the tattooed hunk was ruggedly beautiful and the way he powerfully fucked was exciting to watch, but was that really what he wanted right now? Did he really want anyone but his man in there? Clearly, his thoughts were shared by his captain: `Nobody else fucks my Luke,' was all the United skipper growled, but then also more loudly, `But I bet he'd give your man a good seeing to if you let him.' `Fuck yes,' was all Luke could pant, turning to look at John, whose face was wrinkled with mischief. Harry's massive cock was carefully retreated from his throbbing rear entrance and another clumsy movement of their bodies. He was glad he'd resisted the urge to wank himself to rapid completion, now that his thick hard-on had somewhere to go. He wriggled free of Harry's stroking hands, giving him a cheeky wink, and took up the position between John's lifted legs -- he held them against his sides, felt the older two staring hungrily, and began to shift his cock down into the wet crack where Kyle had been fucking. Luke made to hump him, glad to be topping again for the first time in quite a while -- the first since a brief phase of giving Dan James what he wanted and the one role reversal when he had been ridden by Harry himself. Luke enjoyed using his powerful body like this, pushing his cock inside John's tightness -- he knew he was a similar thickness to Kyle, but longer, and he enjoyed the sense that he was giving the big Barnsley guy more than he was used to. But John's gasping mouth was being filled by cock, with both of the other men kneeling at his shoulders and slapping their equipment at his lips and chin, wanking over his face, pushing a few inches in against his tongue... the big filthy bastards, practically sword-fighting to try and fuck him in the mouth. It was a great sex show for Luke as he hugged John's thighs and fucked his amazingly muscular bottom. But he couldn't go for long; he was just too horny. He wasn't sure if he should cum inside John and it seemed like asking might kill the mood. Instead, he pulled his dick out, gasping for breath, and rose a bit more on his knees, wanking himself furiously until splashes of white juice were spurting across the ridged six-pack of the big lad. The first of the four to explode, Luke felt disappointed to finish, but this was perhaps the most exciting adventure of his new sex life yet -- he felt like he was trying to take a mental photograph of every single detail to wank over on future nights, wanting to remember every detail. This excitement combatted the usually sleepy lull that followed the emptying of his balls. He rolled against the bed and dipped his head down to lick some of his own cum from John's abs, letting it get sticky against his beard hair then scooping some on a finger, which he shifted up to feed to his friend, while Kyle moved back around to take over the fucking, sweat dribbling across his every muscle. Luke found his way to Harry instead, kissing all over his chest and rubbing his cum-sticky beard over his skin, taking his dick in hand and stroking it with teasing slowness. Kyle came inside John, yelping obnoxiously as he did -- they both watched it in excited fascination, Luke sinking down between Harry's legs to kiss him on the balls and shaft, the bedsheets wrinkled and clammy beneath their shifting limbs. But he couldn't keep his lips to the privates of his captain because he wanted to kiss him properly -- pecking from his dick to his navel, following the fuzzy trail of hair, then kissing and licking up his abdomen and back over his chest... until he was curled into the pillows and they were snogging properly. It was the other two who took up the rest of the job -- suddenly Kyle was down over his chest, sucking or chewing gently at one nipple, and John was blowing him. All three of them working on the big brooding figure of Maguire, the apparent alpha of this foursome. Luke felt stupid jealousy, wishing he had three mouths so he could do it all himself, but he also felt the laziness of his orgasm and was glad to just cuddle and snog at his captain while his cock and body were relished by the City fellas -- and Harry was clearly loving it, squeezing a muscled arm about him and gripping the headboard with the other, making deep animal moans as he reached the peak of his enjoyment. His cock was like a volcano, drizzling cum against Stones' face and the dark wet curls of his hair, flecks of his seed still hitting Kyle's pale brown skin and Luke's own flushed chest. `FUCK YES,' Harry roared for them all. Luke silenced his roar with a kiss and reached down to pull gently at his satisfied cock, letting the wetness spread over his palm and fingers, the air stinking of it. And in front of them both, John was now up on his knees, spunk oozing off his chin, eyes closed -- whilst Kyle hunched down to blow him, returning to where he'd began the night. He must have soon got a mouthful, judging from John's `O' mouth and clenched eyes. Luke and Harry turned away from this sight to kiss some more. For a few moments, the guests were invisible, ignored, the two United men just lost in the closeness of their bodies. But then Harry was playing host again, sliding away form him with his huge cock swinging and trailing a little string of cum. He was finding and supping from his glass, huge and naked, and slapping heartily at the bare bodies of the other two as they finished cuddling and rose from the bed. Luke remained on the bed, heaving for breath, just overwhelmed by the fast development of their orgy, the excitement and satisfaction of it all. He found himself voiceless with these feelings, just lolling there and watching it all -- the way John got up and stretched out, reaching behind himself to clutch a sore bottom, cackling joyfully at how hard he'd been smashed; Kyle fetching a towel from their bathroom and dabbing carelessly at smears of cum on his impressive body; Harry topping up his glass with a dash more whiskey, smug at the foursome he'd engineered. `Some nightcap,' whistled John, catching his eye. `I think I'll sleep well,' he quipped back, finally reviving himself and hopping onto his feet. He hugged his arms over his chest and stared down at his wilting prick, the smear of cum shiny on his thigh. He found his own glass where it had been put down on the carpet, knocked it back in one go, grimacing and reeling from the burn. `Ugh, that stuff tastes nasty.' Soon, the City pair were gone, all stage whispers and giddy suppressed laughter, and it was just Luke and Harry left in the suite -- climbing into the other bed, the one not streaked with sweat and cum, not bothering to shower and just cuddling together, muscles to muscles. Luke moaned happily -- the mad fun was over, but this was even better, comfortably held by the skipper, secure together in the hotel room and away from their home responsibilities for the rest of the England experience. `If you're lucky,' Maguire purred in his ears, `I might be hard again soon.' Luke enjoyed the thought, stroking his side and rubbing their thighs together. `The morning,' he mumbled back vaguely, thinking this was just a joke -- the match was late evening tomorrow, but they would still need to be fresh and the ready for a short morning session and the manager's selection process. `Fuck the morning,' was all the other defender said, rolling on top of him, pinning his sweaty back to the sheets and lifting up over him. `I spoke to Southgate, turns out we're both just on the bench for San Marino, baby... I know that's annoying, but...' He sank forward, lying fully on top of him and kissing him on the mouth. `It does mean tonight we can...' `Fuck, are you already...?' He could feel it, the weighty firmness developing against his own crotch, and he stared up into Harry's face in disbelief. `Are you kidding, big man?!' `What can I say... I'm just really fucking excited to have you here.' `I can feel that, you horny bastard! God, you're really ready again...?' `Ready when you are,' Harry panted. `I'm gonna fuck you all night, my sexy Lion, okay?' Luke nodded his bearded chin, staring lovingly up. `I think I can handle that.' SEEMS PERFECTLY RIGHT TO MARK THE 250TH CHAPTER WITH THESE FOUR GUYS - 'FAN FAVOURITES' - HOPE IT LIVES UP TO THEIR PREVIOUS ADVENTURES! 'Writer guy' - Premiership Lads on Nifty https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/celebrity/premiership-lads/ Amazon Wishlist here if you wanna say thanks LOL https://www.amazon.co.uk/hz/wishlist/ls/26BW3WSABBHNM?ref_=wl_share