Date: Wed, 31 Mar 2021 20:43:01 +0000 From: writer guy Subject: Premiership Lads Part 252 Part 252: Pushing Boundaries The airport was silent but for them, the returning heroes: the lofty Heathrow arrivals hall rang with the sleepy chatter of the national team, scattered from the entrance doors and gravitating wearily to the luggage collection. Yawns were stifled, in-jokes from the Albania trip chuckled and recycled, and frowning impatient faces turned towards the gradual arrival of the matching luggage winding around the corner. Caught between the weariness of the long night and the energetic elation of his own match-winning goal, Mason Mount did all three. He sniggered at the banter behind him from Lingard and Phillips, brought a hand over his pursed mouth, and blinked dizzily down the line in search of his own labelled case. Hopefully this process would pass quickly, and the coach would rapidly have them back in their Surrey hotel and in bed -- it felt a long thirty hours since their Saturday evening flight out to Albania for tonight's second qualifier win, and the manager's decision to bring them home tonight rather than a second stay abroad would be appreciated tomorrow but felt draining and complicated right now. Straight from a 2-0 victory in Tirana to the local airport and then across Europe -- midnight was about to pass the men by, and they still needed to board a coach. Mason blinked back a wave of tiredness and folded his arms across his front, grinning lazily and stretching his neck and jaw side to side, mentally replaying his own triumph of the night. The Three Lions had already been in the lead at half-time thanks to Captain Harry Kane, who he could see not far down to the right, half-asleep and in mumbled conference with his Spurs mate Eric Dier, but then Mason himself had sealed the win. Senior England play was still fresh enough to the Chelsea midfielder for him to be completely buzzing at his own success, and he worried that he would struggle to sleep with that high running through his veins! One by one, he could see other lads remove their things from the slow-rolling carousel, and he peered at the oncoming things in the hope of seeing his own initials and miniature photo on the big labels, but no sign of it -- typical, his was probably last off the jet and he'd be the mug holding everyone up before all the coaches could hit the road...! Mason began to turn around, glancing to the nearer lads and trying to catch somebody's eye and express his bemused annoyance, but then suddenly someone was squeezing at his shoulder and bringing him spinning back around -- the raised handle of his case was pressed into his waiting hand and the goofily grinning figure of his midfield counterpart from the night's game stood over him, having clearly seen and fetched his case elsewhere. Declan Rice leaned with his other hand on the top of his own case and, with daring public affection, he stroked his hand briefly on Mason's elbow before lifting it into a more manly pat just under the shoulder. `Here,' the other 22-year-old Premiership breakthrough said, still grinning, `thought I'd help a buddy out. Our goal machine, yeah?' The 6ft1 defensive midfielder laughed softly, and Mason was reminded of late in the game when he had taken a tumble and, within seconds, the West Ham stud had been right beside him, the first teammate to check on him and help him up -- it had been all Mason could do not to grab and snog the ruggedly handsome bastard right there on the Albanian pitch! `Oh, thanks,' Mount said gladly, a little taken aback by Rice's sudden presence at him and the brief titillation of that touch on his arm, `it's like we're flying home from Mykonos all over again...!' He smirked reminiscently at his boyfriend, thinking of their summer escape on the Greek island -- it hadn't been free from conflict and distraction, but much of it had been tender alone time for the childhood friends turned passionate lovers, and he regularly fantasised at the memory of it in quiet moments alone. `Mykonos?' mumbled Rice a little more shyly. `Good times... Come on, everyone's heading out.' `Yup,' he noted, but not pulling his eyes away from appreciating the long strong features of Dec's face, and the breadth of his shoulders and chest beneath the tight hoodie. `You know I just spent that whole flight hard in my trackies cos you were next to me?' he asked in a playfully casual and innocent voice, stood there by the luggage carousel -- he enjoyed the flash of embarrassment and excitement that showed in crimson in the other player's cheeks. `Fuck,' was all the West Ham player could initially mutter, gripping the handle of his case and shooting cautious glances about them as pairs and threes of England call-ups and their entourage of staff began to shuffle and roll towards the broad exits and the coaches beyond. A sleazy nervous snigger and then Dec was nudging elbows with him. `Well, how do you think I felt having to watch you during the game, you twat?' `What?' he laughed back. `Black briefs under white shorts? You dick. How was I supposed to concentrate?' Mason smirked delightedly, meeting eyes with the nervously flirtatious other young man, and he elbowed him sharply back, yanking on his case as they slowly crossed the arrivals hall. `You were too busy watching my arse then, yeah?' he teased in a low voice. `Big perv.' `When you're around? Yep, that's me,' Declan mumbled and sniggered. `And you scored that fucking beaut, Mase, so... gotta reward ya...!' The gangly midfielder looked over one broad shoulder to check that they had fallen behind the rest of the crew, then reached his free hand behind to briefly and gently squeeze Mason on the bum through his glossy tracksuit, getting a good handful of pert muscle, making him flinch and tremble and giggle. `Oh yeah?' he returned happily. `Well, there was me worrying if I'd sleep tonight...' `Sleep?' toyed Declan, giving him a clumsy wink as they neared the doors. Ahead, the almost deserted car park was floodlit, and the assembly of footballers and staff were breaking into different streams towards each of the three coaches that would ferry them back to the hotel. `No sleep tonight, sexy boy,' sniggered the other player, pausing next to him on the threshold. `Big promises!' Mason said. He looked from the trail of teammates ahead, back to Declan, and then he dropped his voice to a more confidential whisper before they rolled on. `So my sexy arse is getting all your attention tonight, is it?' `Ho yes,' returned Dec in that deep husky outer London accent. `Just you wait til we're in the hotel.' `So are we gonna try that thing?' he prompted, fixing his roommate with an eager look. He gave Declan his sweetest and most loveable pout, watching the hesitant response that crossed Rice's long face. There was a vague, windblown call of one of their names from ahead, snapping Mason's attention away from Dec and looking ahead to the nearest coach where they were needed. `Come on!' he chirped at his bestie, beginning to speed ahead and dragging the case with him -- the other lad paused, gawping a bit, then jerked into action and hurried along just behind him, both of them rattling and scurrying for the side of their bus to the hotel. That thing, thought Rice with a little anxiety, on the short journey from airport to hotel compound, and even in the slow milling confusion of unloading their belongings from the bus and crunching across lamplit gravel to the grand stony entrance of their accommodation -- and then the thought was gone, dispelled by the goodnight banter of the dispersing squad as they went their separate ways at the bright grandiose reception area. It had come up in a series of conversations lately, `that thing', an idea of Mount's that had slipped into giggling pillow talk between the two young athletes, then resurfaced with a mild persistence in the build-up to this exciting trip away together, united by their England call-ups away from their rival London football clubs. Something that cheeky Mason was eager for him to try but Declan felt far less sure of, and had so far avoided committing to without really upsetting the bright-eyed midfielder. Indoors, moving through the warm Sunday night of the hotel, Declan just felt focused on the desire to be alone with his Mase. He was, as always, fiercely proud of how his best mate had played tonight, as made up for his international goal as he ever felt about his own -- and now he was buzzing to get him alone in their room and congratulate him properly, no coy brushes or interactions in the glaring lights of an airport arrivals lounge. He said his goodbye to the thin scattering of players moving up the stairwell with them and then the two were away down a side-passage and to the door of their suite. It was all the 22-year-old West Ham star could do not to grope and kiss his short cute roommate there in the corridor, watching Mason gurn and fish for the key-card in his tracksuit pocket. Once they were in the room, though, there was no need for such restraint: he grabbed both hands about the slim firm waist and pulled Mase to him in a tight cuddle, kissing him first on the forehead before angling his softly bearded features and snogging him full on the lips with a confidence that had grown in the long months of their courtship. They stood kissing like that at the door for a good few minutes, tongue-wrestling so noisily that anyone on the other side might hear their thinly veiled passion. Then Declan pressed him back against the hard wood of the door for a moment, kissing him just a little more roughly, pressing his own sturdy body against him enough to provoke filthy little giggles of anticipation from his lad. `Oh, you weren't joking,' murmured Mason, slipping away from him but only so that he could unzip his top and begin kicking off his trainers. `Horny bastard, you hard already...?' Declan was straight behind him, kissing him on the neck and stroking his sides through the thin warm t-shirt below. `I was hard on the bus,' he said, exaggerating a little, but rubbing the outline of his semi up against the 5ft10 Chelsea lad's behind, making him feel the slow swelling of his love. `Mmm, why do you always smell so fucking good...?' `Because I smell of you?' teased Mason, wriggling around to face him and giving his dick a good feel in his matching England trackies, then proceeding to kiss and nip at the side of his neck before dragging them both down onto the bed in a writhing embrace -- they tangled in passionate kisses again like they had at the door, rolling into a series of awkward positions and mouthing hungrily at each other as if no individual kiss could ever satisfy their mutual lust. Rice kicked heel to toe until his trainers were off and he could pull his socked feet up against Mount's, cuddling properly into him on the bedding and pinning him there before a fresh flurry of hurried kisses, letting their crotches rub and linger and then lifting himself up to smile down at his precious lover. `You are so beautiful,' he told him, the clumsy words of sincerity just falling out as he took in the thin sharp features of that handsome geeky face. `I really fucking love you, mate.' Mason's harmless return was always a wry grin and a flash of excitement in his eyes, then lifting his head to whisper earnestly in his ear. `Not as much as I love you, Ricecakes, promise.' And then he was back to cheeky giggles and a wistful expression that tugged Declan's attention back to that brief conversation on the way across to the coach: he thought of the way he'd complimented Mason's beautiful bottom, which genuinely had entranced him on the pitch, and the way he'd riskily grabbed at it there in the doorway... and then the question that had slipped out as soon as he did. `So are we gonna try that thing?' the Chelsea boy had asked quite pushily, and Rice quailed now to remember the topic. In a decisive rush, he pushed a hand firmly down the front of Mason's pants, winked at him before he could say anything, and journeyed south. Mason rolled his lean back muscles against the bed and stretched out either arm, his back arching and his legs parting further -- his cock was removed neatly from the front of his tracksuit pants and Declan's face was down there, glued over his hard excitable prick, tickling at his oddly large balls with his fingers while his tongue rolled about the stiff pink tip. The Chelsea player groaned and giggled, rubbing his hips and buttocks against the bedding, pleasured and rewarded -- it was fun to give in to his ego and feel that this was deserved luxury for his footballing prowess, but really... the game and the goal didn't matter, Rice would be down there eager to please him whatever the fuck had happened tonight! He brought his hands across to rub at the back of Dec's head, stroking his hair and the outline of his ear, then scooping them down against the broad thickening muscles of his shoulders. `Mmm, babe...' Pushing up with his pelvis, rubbing more of his slim shapely cock into the mouth of his lover and feeling Dec's slight gag then recovering attention. Mason tugged up at his own tshirt with both hands, peeling it away from the dense muscles of his six-pack then fully up and away, stripping his upper body, rubbing a hand across his chest and down his hard tummy. He stared at the pouting deep pink of Declan's upper lip about the base of his dick, below that prominent hooked nose and the deep-set manly eyes, staring now to lock with his. One of those gorgeous moments of knowing unity between them, locked in this sexual pleasure but also totally fucking devoted to one another. The lads were pulling apart then, loosening from this hurried eager oral, but only to tear off clothes. Dec up on his knees, dragging his own tshirt and jersey away from the hard pale mass of his torso -- Mason smiled at the outline of his erection throbbing down one leg of his trackies, teased his foot across it whilst wriggling out of his trackies and boxer shorts until he was naked but for off-white socks, swiftly peeled over ankles and hoyed aside. Naked now, he lounged provocatively away, playing with his spit-wet dick in one fist and running the fingers of his other hand up through his styled tuft of dark hair, posing for his lover. Rice was staring broodingly at him, his own cock freed as down went his pants, thicker and a little longer than Mount's own aching erection. He licked his lips, sighting it, but then reached down and patted the fuzzy hair on the side of his own thigh. `Well?' he asked pushily. `Well, what?' grinned Rice, climbing towards him and shedding as much clothing so that both athletic young men were 100% nude. `Well, are we gonna try IT?' he demanded, thinking back to Rice's exciting comments; he LOVED the idea that his visible dark pants had excited his boyfriend even through glossy white England shorts, he was so hard to imagine how much his professional teammate might crave and desire him even in the middle of a hard-fought football match -- there was nothing that made his balls ache quite so much as THAT. And if Dec was so enthralled by his bottom then surely he would be up for trying this?! `Come on,' he urged, stroking a hand down Dec's side then planting a couple of kisses on one of his strong shoulders, `I just want you to try it out, see if you like it, and...' He grinded himself eagerly against the bigger guy, letting their bare cocks rub and clash, interlocking their muscular calves as they cuddled again. He was about to speak more then lifted himself and caught the alarmed, awkward expression on his rugged face. Instantly, he was laughing softly, and rubbing his hand reassuringly down into the white heat of the other man's crotch, holding his cock as he whispered: `I'm joking with ya, Deccers, you know I don't care what we do, just want your big cock, don't I?' If the idea of pushing boundaries further made Dec uncomfortable, then it was NOT what Mase wanted, he had no interest in distressing or manipulating his sexy pal -- he dropped his face to kiss those hard pecs and small bullet nipples, dismissing the thought of experimentation and progress, just excited to have his hands and more touching the strong imposing physique of his boyhood buddy. But then Dec's strong hands were on his biceps and shoving him back against the bed, and the rocky face was lifted over his again. `Is that what you want?' he demanded through a hot sigh. `I just want you,' Mason insisted below him, `I don't care about anything else...' `But you want to do that thing?' Rice asked insistently, his voice a little strained. `No,' Mount lied, `not if...' `If you want it, we'll do it,' came the sturdy mutter of determination. `You deserve it tonight.' Declan, looking at Mason's kind and playful eyes, felt a strong surge of affection for him. He could see how much the horny other 22-year-old wanted to try new things and keep their private time fresh and adventurous, and in a rush of love for his lad, he felt able to push aside his own trepidation and distaste. It was, after all, something that he was aware plenty of people did, and perhaps not so different from what he'd done when dating girls... `No,' Mount was telling him, stroking at his hard-on and kissing him on the nipple, `it don't matter, babe, we can just...' `No,' Rice insisted with more hardness in his voice, pushing the slighter stud back against the bedding and fixing him with a stern smile. `We're doing it. We're trying it.' He meant it as he said it but, pulling away and kicking the remains of their clothing off the edges of the duvet, he felt the same queasy hesitance that had made him blush and change the subject when this activity was jokingly raised then seriously pursued. But if it was what his Mase wanted, then... the gorgeous bugger had been so perfect tonight, for England and for him, and he really did want to treat him right now they were comfy and hidden here. `Okay,' said Mason breathlessly. `Where do you want me?' His eyes lit up and he slid his tongue moistly about his lips, staring across the bed. `Like that,' Declan said with shaky confidence. He grabbed at the bare slim ankles and lifted his lover's expert feet, pushing forward and closer -- moving to lie his own hard body against the bedding, chest and six-pack flat to the covers. This brought him face to face with the rise of Mason's cock and the big swollen balls that hugged below it, and then... he was looking beneath it, at the darker furrow of hairy skin that slid down and disappeared between the perfect peachy circles of the midfielder's cheeks. Mason just giggled and cooed at him: `There it is, what you were staring at all game!' Declan lifted his face, staring at him around the silhouette of his dick, and trying to look leering and seductive, but probably just looking grumpy and anxious as he was, all furrowed frown and high coloured cheeks. But he sank his face down, planting his hands firmly against the underside of the Mount thighs, and pulling them apart a little, opening those round cheeks as he did, getting a better look into the curly dark hairs that decorated the crack between -- the crack that he'd been inside with his fingers and his strong cock so many times, but not like this... `You really don't have to do this,' groaned the Chelsea lad. `Honest. It's just a thing.' `I want you to feel good,' he said distractedly. `I'm clean,' Mount chirped. `Took AGES in the showers, but if you want me to have another, I don't mind, I can be really quick and just-` Rice ignored him, determined to try this, to push or break his own boundaries. He'd felt a bit disgusted at the thought of it, prudishly new to the notion of putting his mouth anywhere near an arse, but increasingly aware that it was something his lover wanted. He half-understood that it was something Mase had experienced before, from old Lampard, though he did not want to ask for specifics, and perhaps there was some insecurity around that, even apart from his more instinctive reluctance to try something that had struck him as gross. But now he was gonna do it. Ignoring the chirpy voice of his lover, who was reaching about his legs and stroking Dec's tense knuckles, he pressed his body lower to the bed and crawled forward to move his face against those cheeks. It felt odd, the tip of his nose rubbing into the thin curly hair of the gooch, smelling that manly intensity there, then darting his tongue out of his mouth until it just flicked against the inner curve of each buttock. Even at that, there was a shuddering and a sigh from Mount, but then he tried again, pushing more firmly forward, forcing his tongue in between those muscles, in against the soft warm skin of the crack -- `Oh FUCK,' came Mason's instant and rabid voice, and Dec wasn't sure when he'd last heard his lad sound that excited. He breathed heavily, and it was as if even the tickling heat of his breath was exciting for the other young man, who giggled and groaned more and helped by stretching his thighs further apart, relaxing his rear, but lifting it too and sliding more onto the upper parts of his back; his arse really lifted into Declan's face now, presented to him as a midnight snack. And putting aside his queasy prudishness, it was one Dec went to munch -- pushing his tongue forward, rubbing it between the cheeks and sliding it against the hot skin, spitting against it and finding the tiny pink hole that had long been his playground. Mason clung to his own legs, and Dec's hands there, and just groaned into the air. If there had been a note of performance and encouragement in his first whines of enjoyment, it was gone now; this was all genuine, just loving the hot wet feel of his boyfriend's mouth down there, teasing and toying at his ring, pawing and stroking at each cheek! Oh, it felt good, so fucking good. Sleepy as his body was from the travel and the excitement of the game, he found himself stretching and writhing, legs and butt still held up as far as his muscles allowed, but just relaxing into the wet treatment he was receiving, the licks and kisses and breathy sighs. He had wanted this, but he was still shocked to get it from his Dec. In a way, he was still shocked every time they kissed, every time they sucked each other, every time he got fucked... never quite able to believe that their long friendship had blossomed this way and become such perfect happiness for him. This seemed like an important boundary crossed or abandoned by Rice, who was still shy or awkward in his own way, though this endeared and amused Mount much more than it ever bothered or disappointed him -- but the enthusiasm and energy with which the West Ham hunk was now rimming him was astonishing. At some point Declan stopped, and Mase did not feel disappointed, glad to have been licked like that -- but he then realised it was not over. He submitted his legs to Dec's control, turned and manhandled onto his front with his rump up in the air, expecting finger or eager dick. Instead, though, it was lips and tongue again. He leaned forward, face pushed into his folded arms, knees digging firmly into the bed, with his cheeks pushed apart and Dec's face pressing in between them. His beard hair tickled softly and the clumsiness of his large hands was rough, but the laps of his large tongue were so relaxing and glorious, Mase could not stop the groans and swearing. Dec couldn't really believe he was doing it, really licking a lad back here, but it tasted far better than he expected and the way it seemed to please Mase, well it was like nothing else -- it made giving head seem easy and silly and lacking in sensuality. His own furtive tonguing was driving Mount wild and, in turn, Mount's fruity language and dirty noises were driving Rice wild. It was this wildness that made him stop at last, unable to stand any more tension, his own cock rubbing against the side of his leg. Up onto his knees he went and he handled his prick into the wet crack between the cheeks, pushing its head against the wet spot he had been rimming, prodding and thrusting it exploratively while Mase continued to whine and moan his name. He made some feeble efforts to begin fucking, testing the wet hole, finding it so much readier for him after that attention, but he decided that he didn't want this position. It was a great view, fucking Mase from behind like this, and his tightness would feel great, but... it wasn't what really drove Dec wild, he wanted to look his boy in the eye. He flipped him back over and piled down on him, feeling those strong effective legs close about his own rear and lower back, and directing his cock int the wet furrow at a different angle. He entered him with more grace and ease than normal, the muscles clamping about his own girth, and their faces were brought close together, all but kissing. Stern eye contact and gritted teeth, expressions of pure lust and adoration on both faces, and now Dec was fucking him in missionary, slamming into him in quick short thrusts, their bodies pressed flat together on the bed but the bottom's legs jutting up into the air and folding just over Dec's own glutes. He curled his arms behind Mason's back to hold him properly, taking full control of his slighter body and keeping up the pacey gyration of his hips, driving his dick in and out like a piston. Finally he brought their faces closer and kissed him, completing the missionary fuck with gentle contact of their lips in a series of ragged breathy kisses. On his back, Mason just groaned into his boyfriend's mouth and took it, enjoying Declan's dick inside him like never before. It's amazing what difference a good rimming could do. He remembered it well from being Frank Lampard's temporary toy, but that had never excited him like seeing his brutish West Ham dreamboy go down on him like that! It was he that came first, almost entirely hands-free, his dick stimulated mainly by the internal thrust of Dec's cock, and by the way his shaft and tip rubbed at the abs of his lover's body. But he did play with it a bit, bringing one hand between their rubbing bodies almost in an attempt to still and becalm his own tool, failing; he squeezed his own rod as his cum shot between their bodies and slathered at their hot muscles, and his breathless orgasm was mouthed into Dec's bearded face. `Oh god,' he moaned when he found his voice, `oh god, oh god...' Declan, as he often did, emptied inside him, unable to withdraw or stop himself, just pounding into him until his cock was spewing its juice right up inside. Mason could feel it and he could tell from the force of the final thrusts, clenched and grappled by the bigger lad, hugging back to him and just holding them together, interlocked cock and hole. Mason kissed him gratefully, and the snogging carried on. Dec's cock slipped from its target but continued to rub up and down his crack, smearing his seed with it, while their bodies grinded together and their lips mashed in happy kissing. When they had pulled apart enough to look eagerly at each other, Mason just tried his best to show his gratitude and relish on every inch of his smiling face. He didn't vocalise the `thank you' he wanted to say, thank you for pushing your boundaries and trying that, but he just let it be obvious in the loving sparkle of his eyes and the gentle curl of his grin. One more kiss, always just one more, and then a proper tight hug between their sweating bodies, before reaching for the duvet, clawing it up and over them, enclosing their embrace properly and shutting out the rest of the world. Two England stars in love, crossing all boundaries and getting lost in one another.