Date: Sun, 27 Nov 2022 22:13:32 +0000
From: writer guy <premiershiplads@outlook.com>
Subject: Premiership Lads, Part 329

Part 329: The Recovery Game


It was Mason's idea, unsurprisingly; the midfielder was standing at the
edge of the pool with his hands just above his hips, a thoughtful grin on
his handsome young features, whilst the main pack of men exited the water
and followed a couple of ringleaders' demands for a few rounds of
basketball in the gymnasium.

`Let's just do a two-on-two bit of volleyball, shall we? It'll be a
laugh. I just know us two can take you down.'

It was Saturday afternoon and part of the squad's recovery programme
after their second game of the Qatar tournament - the morning had been a
comparatively slow start and a long sociable lunch had given way to an
afternoon of more relaxed activity as the players wound down from the
goalless USA match and refreshed before attacking Tuesday's home nations
fixture with everything they could muster.

For the 23-year-old Chelsea player, it was not the most relaxed of
Saturdays: he'd seen a lot of criticism flying around online for his own
lukewarm performance, or at least criticism of the England gaffer for not
replacing him, and some mockery of the faith that managers kept putting
in him. It was hardly new noise, and Mason Mount had quickly learned to
take both the hype and the hate with a heavy pinch of salt, always trying
to let his feet speak for themselves, but... this was the world stage, and
a boyhood dream coming alive, it wasn't easy to shrug anything off and
stay cool, like it could be after a dip in form at Stamford Bridge.

Earlier that day, he'd felt a little morose and worried about it, but
his roommate boyfriend had immediately noticed and enclosed him in his
arms before they headed down for breakfast, reassuring him and laughing
off any hint of criticism that the two midfielders might face for a dull
draw when the squad were almost certainly through to the knockouts. And
Mason was trying to hold on to the warm comfort he had found in Declans'
hold, maintaining the typically chipper attitude that everyone expected
from him. Right now, it manifested in the perky grin on his lips and the
way he looked challengingly across at the other two, who were seated on a
bench along the wall, pausing hesitantly at the sound of his challenge.

`Come on,' Mount insisted. `You're not rushing off to shoot hoops.'

`And why aren't you?' demanded Luke Shaw from where he sat, cradling a
bottle of protein shake in both hands, and returning Mason's smile of
friendly confrontation.

The room was emptying, the banter and splashing of the other men in the
pool dissipating. To the side of them, a few lithe bare bodies were
towelling down and pulling on discarded clothing, and Mason couldn't
help but allow himself a cheeky look that way whilst the two United
defenders conferred in low growls, and Declan Rice busied himself with
adjusting the strap on his waterproof sports watch.

Mason had quite enjoyed the show as a cluster of other England players
battled it out in a four-aside match of volleyball, making a few cheery
attempts to throw himself into the action and replace one of the
contenders, but to no avail. The energetic football player had had to
settle for a ringside position beyond the dividing buoys, cheering on the
victory of the Man City lads - Kyle, John, Jack, and Kalvin - over their
four rivals, Tottenham's Harry and Eric, joined by young Jude and
Bukayo. Mason had particularly enjoyed watching a brief physical dispute
between John Stones and Jude Bellingham when the main game was over, the
lofty City defender gloating a bit too much and withholding the ball from
the lithe splashing figure of the 19-year-old... and providing Mount and
the hovering team photographer with a great view of the two muscular
bodies leaping for dominance in the water, with young Jude no match for
the upper-body strength of the Barnsley brute.

It was more than enough to get Mason feeling frisky and competitive any
way, and that was why he was reluctant to pull his tracksuit bottoms back
on and drip through to join the basketball, normally a major draw for
both him and Dec. Instead, he had his mischievous eyes on a bit more
volley-ball, and he posed casually at the pool's edge, the simple black
speedo clinging to his crotch and bum; watching and waiting for some
clear answer from the Old Trafford pair on the bench. `Well?' the
23-year-old demanded brightly. `Are we on?'


Unlike his younger pal, Luke Shaw had cautiously eschewed the
standard-issue swimming pants that had been chucked in with their kit
bags for this international period, opting instead for a pair of dark
blue shorts from his own wardrobe - as solid and defined as his body was
at the moment, he knew he would feel ridiculously exposed in such skimpy
swimming attire, though being the only one of the four of them NOT in
speedos, there was a certain self-consciousness to that anyway. He
couldn't win.

`Maybe,' was his slow response, looking back at Mason's bright grin
and restless posture. `Don't we want to go and play at being NBA
ballers instead...?' The handsome Kingston man shone his own handsome
smile back at his Chelsea buddy, then studying the less relaxed manner of
Rice - he suspected that the other midfield player was a little less
comfortable with the tight fit and body exposure of the black speedos, as
the West Ham captain shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot and kept
tugging irritably at the fit of the clingy damp nylon across his crotch
and sides, and pulling wedgies out at the back. It was the sort of
nervous tic that made the otherwise confident defensive midfielder such
an endearing yong bloke, and Luke was certainly drawn to the idea of
spending a bit more time with the London lovebirds. There had been enough
banter between them over him being their `third wheel' and/or not
hanging out with them enough, but Shaw knew as well as Mount or Rice that
it was good to end up left alone like this, away from the buzz and hype
of the fuller squad.

Luke shifted one elbow against the thick upper arm of his neighbour on
the bench, and turned his wholesome smile towards his own club captain,
in title at least; like the younger lads, Harry was naked but for the
limited coverage of his dark speedos, and he was supping on a matching
protein shake to Luke's own. `Hmm?' The big centre-back glanced
hesitantly this way with a confused-looking expression, and then back at
Mason's impatient expression. `Oh, er - what were you sayin'...?'

Maguire was a little distracted, he thought, but nicely so... relaxed and
comfortable, he thought, in a way that he hadn't seen him for too long.
It was a mix of things, he guessed, though the praise levelled at his own
defensive performance last night was pretty significant. Harry's aerial
action and headwork had won more positive response than almost any other
activity on the pitch, and the big guy was obviously enjoying a shift in
the narrative around his form, and Luke could appreciate and delight in
this more than almost anyone else. He enjoyed the dopey confusion on the
29-year-old's face, since his powerful man was simply in such a relaxed
daze that he couldn't pay attention to much for long.

`Two on two,' Luke said, nudging their bare arms together. `Against
these two losers.' He flashed a conspiratorial wink at Mason, and
clapped his hands together lightly. `I think I'm up to it, you? We'll
thrash this pair.'

Harry made another vague grunt, rubbing one huge hand over his rugged
face. He and Luke had both come to the pool area from long massage
sessions with the physio team, and were sluggish and unbound as a result.
But Luke was waking up at the prospect of competitive fun, especially in
a smaller clique than the speedo brigade that had dominated the pool just
a couple of minutes ago - he hadn't wanted to draw attention to his
baggy shorts by clambering into the pool with that set of bulges and
biceps, the Man City gun show or the likes of Eric Dier, part of him
reluctant to let go of old insecurities.

The 27-year-old left-back got up from the bench, patting his hands
against the firmer-than-ever muscles of his abdomen, and giving Mason a
firm nod. `Let's do this,' he said enthusiastically. `You don't know
what you're up against here, Chelsea boy!'


Pulling at one hip of speedos again, Declan stared across the room,
watching Pickford and Pope disappear away as the last lads to leave the
swimming hall, both in shorts with towels about their shoulders. It
wasn't often that everyone got so keen on the idea of playing a rival
sport like basketball, and the 23-year-old felt a slight pull to join -
apart from a love of the hoop, Dec liked the idea of pulling his clothes
back on and covering up his tall pale body, rather than fannying about
here in what felt like women's knickers.

But he turned his indecisive look to the irresistible grin of Mason's
lightly-bearded features, and knew he wasn't rushing to disagree with
the lad; it's not that he was a pushover or reliant on Mase, but his
best mate turned boyfriend had an infectious spirit of fun, a special
charisma that relaxed everyone around him, and it was hard to turn down
his ideas. Dec knew he would give in to the water fun instead, and he
supposed that now it was just the four of them in here, he ought to relax
- even the scurrying photographers who seemed obsessed with capturing
every moment of footy prep had buggered off to follow the herd, and the
room was empty but for the four of them.

`Alright,' the more defensive midfielder said quietly. `Two-on-two,
yeah?'

`Yep,' Mason exclaimed. `Luke thinks we won't stand a chance - can
you believe that?!'

Dec puffed out his pale chest and threw an arm about Mason's lightly
damp shoulders, joining him in the confrontational pose. `Are they
insulting us?' he demanded, joining Mase's playful over-confidence.
`Are they doubting the strongest pairing in the whole England squad?
Nutters...!'

Next to him, Mase swelled with cheeky pride and hugged him at the side,
almost intimately, now that nobody else was looking; the extra closeness
of their bare bodies made Rice shiver just a little, always cautious, but
he knew he shouldn't worry a jot in front of this pair, especially his
fellow Kingston-upon-Thames bloke Luke Shaw. Maguire was a less intimate
friend, he supposed, but both he and Mason knew all about the Old
Trafford love affair, having bonded so much with Shaw on previous England
trips.

`Let's make it interesting then,' Mase was chirping, hugged to his
side.

`Interesting?' grunted big Maguire in that slow way he had, running
fingers through the dark sweep hair as he got up from the bench - an
intimidating 6ft4 in front of the other lads, such a hulking and dramatic
physique that made Dec feel like he was still a skinny and gangly youth
making his first steps into the senior Three Lions fold, rather than the
more developed and established team leader he'd become. Maguire, he
thought, didn't look like someone who gave a fuck about having all of
his big body on show, the vista of toned muscle and the ample contents of
the black material evident between the dark fuzz of his thighs. He
scolded himself for letting his gaze wander down there and pulled it up,
looking sharply at Mase and wondering what `interesting' actually
meant, then at Luke's wily grin, the little exchanged look between those
two buddies.

`Interesting,' Shaw echoed thoughtfully. `Sure -a bit of a wager, you
mean?'

`What are we talking?' Rice butted in. `Bit of cash, or...?'

`Bit crass,' was all the United left-back had to say to that.

`What about some forfeits for the loser, rather than a prize?' Mount
was suggesting, loosening himself from Dec's hold and strutting the
couple of paces up to Shaw so that he could jab a cheeky single finger
into the centre of his swollen chest muscles. Rice laughed at this idea,
siding with his boyfriend: `Sure, like a hundred sit-ups or pull-ups, or
some shit...?'

Maguire was laughing now too, sounding very confident and relaxed,
typical of the more easy-going bloke he had seemed since the squad
assembled for the journey to Doha - a more likeable guy in Rice's eyes,
compared to the stormy moods and ugly frowns that he had exuded in the
past year or so. The big guy was probably just chuffed that Man Utd had
sorted out their CR7 problem at last, after that self-sabotaging
interview bullshit, and no doubt there would be a lot less tension in
that club come January.

`Too easy,' the 29-year-old boomed. `I'm not wasting an easy win over
you two weeds for some shitty little forfeit like that... it won't be
funny enough watching you attempt a hundred press-ups, it needs to be
more than that.' He was leaning in against Luke's shoulders, siding
closely with the other defender.

`Alright, alright,' giggled Mason. `I had other things in mind,
anyway.' Dec thought he heard the flicker of mischief in the other
23-year-old's voice and he hugged his loose arms about his chest as he
glanced furtively at the other midfielder, hoping to catch his eye and
mouth `don't you dare'.

`Other things?' mused Luke, sounding interested.

`What things?' demanded Harry, slow on the uptake.


He stared at the naughty expression on the Chelsea player's face, and
then at the conflicted grimace on that of the West Ham captain, and the
penny dropped. He recognised the lust in the low chuckle that Luke gave
next to him, and his heavy grip stiffened about the other defender's
shoulders, becoming more self-conscious about their physical closeness in
this public space, wearing so little... and at the same time, feeling the
dull throb of sexual interest in his loins, realising what Mount might be
getting at.

`We said we should make it interesting,' Mason pointed out, dropping
his voice a little. `And so let's make it interesting. Losing side has
to...'

`Mase,' came Declan's murmur, half-laugh and half-warning.

`Go on,' laughed Luke, and Harry felt himself sharing his boyfriend's
curiosity.

`Losing side has to what?' he asked immediately, and he knew that his
own interest must be obvious in the tone of the question, and the way he
scratched one hand across his broad chest and part-way down his six-pack,
stopping short of giving his speedo bulge a good feel in front of these
other two players.

Mason seemed to be enjoying the interest in his unfinished proposition,
and he struck a thinker's pose, scratching at his thin goatee in
cartoonish exaggeration, before dropping his voice to a lower whisper and
leaning in - the rest of them copied instinctively, Harry himself having
to really stoop and lean because he was inches taller than the rest of
them.

`Losers are sucking the winners,' the Chelsea ace hissed excitedly,
before immediately backing away from them and throwing himself into the
water with a silly whoop; even at 23, there was something of the naughty
teen about the attacking midfielder, and though Harry had on occasions
found him irritating and immature, right now he was just thinking about
how developed his muscles were getting, how manly he was starting to
look, other than the stupid flurry of new tattoos that were similar to
the irritating artwork his own boyfriend was starting to ruin his arms
with.

Mason's whooping dive had left Declan hesitating on the pool's edge,
scratching at his neck and fiddling with the front of his speedos. He
looked unsure what to say, but Mason was shouting for him from the water,
and Harry just glanced to the right - his own hesitant indecision met the
leering grin, bright and toothy against Luke's ruddy-blond beard. Those
attractive eyes were full of question and encouragement, and the big
England centre-back paused for only a moment before nodding his `Slab'
head and giving the other man a slight shove in the shoulder.

`Let's fucking do this,' the 6ft4 Yorkshireman barked. He saw big
awkward Rice look a little shocked by his ready agreement, making a
thoughtful face for a moment, then lunging aside as Maguire burst
playfully forward and plunged head-first into the waters, ready for their
recovery game of two-on-two volleyball.


It was a short but ferocious game, and Mason was still a little bit
out-of-breath as they rejoined the main assembly of players, who had all
moved from shooting hoops to even lighter activity, and they were now
starting to be rounded up for the coaches back to the hotel. Excellent,
the 23-year-old thought excitedly, having thought the latter stages of
recovery day might be dragged out even further before the troops were
ferried back to basecamp and free for the remainder of their Saturday.

On the bus, the Chelsea player was as hyped-up and twitchy as if they
were on their way to another Doha stadium for the upcoming Wales game, or
a later knockout fixture. He drummed his fingers against his lap and
stared repeatedly from the brash scenery to his boyfriend in the next
seat, enjoying the mixed emotions that flashed across the West Ham
skipper's craggy features: a sort of look-what-you've-done frown of
accusation, sometimes, alternating with a suppressed risky excitement,
all coy and anticipatory. Either look made Mount giggle, and he poked and
prodded at his neighbour to try and provoke laughter from him too, until
Rice elbowed him sharply and hissed at him to behave himself or he
wasn't going to be taking part in this madness.

And at the hotel, there seemed to be a general return to the water, with
other players wanting to relax and mess about in the hotel swimming
pools, either indoor our outdoor, just as they had at the training
complex... Mase was forced to perform a few exaggerated yawns and
stretches in the hotel foyer, clamping a hand over his stretched mouth,
and then mouthing vague apologies to nearby Phil Foden and Raheem
sterling. `Just need a lie-down first,' the Chelsea midfield player
claimed lightly, hardly bothering to fake the sound of a yawn in his
eager voice.

He paused halfway up the main stairway and smirked when Deccers quickly
rounded the corner and followed him up. Though the stairway was
relatively exposed and the voices of other England players could be heard
echoing across from the outdoor courtyard they were spilling into, he
lunged out to grab his boyfriend's arm and popped a quick peck of a kiss
against Dec's cheek, before scampering ahead and completing the journey
up to the first floor and following the corridor that would lead to their
room.

`You're hyper,' Rice told him with soft accusation.

`Yeah, that's why you love me,' Mount informed him with a wink. `Come
on, we need to tidy the room a bit, we left it in a tip this morning. Oh,
don't look like that. Tell me you ain't excited, Rice Rice Baby.'

`You're asking for trouble, suggesting games like this,' he was told,
but again the slight tone of indignation and blame was intermingled with
coy excitement and the fond grin that was plastered all over Rice's
freckled face. `We need to play it a bit cooler out here and in this
kinda set-up, babe, and-'

`It's Luke,' Mason pushed with a confident smile, pinching the skin of
Declan's forearm and then locking fingers with his.

`There could be a maid, or anything,' Declan muttered cautiously.

`Shut up and kiss me.' He wasn't in the mood to be cautious or
scolded, and he pulled the taller young stud to him, grabbing him close,
feeling the slight dampness of his training gear where they'd both just
pulled it on over wet muscles after the volleyball match. They snogged,
briefly but intensely, with Mason refusing to let go or remove his wet
lips from Declan's. He felt the tense fear of the 6ft1 hunk in his arms,
but also the relenting eagerness of his bigger body, and he looked
lovingly into his eyes. `Come on, we need this,' he insisted quietly.
`It'll keep us chill and happy for Tuesday, that's all. And it's
Luke,' he pointed out again, thinking about that glorious memory of
their three-way on the yacht, a favourite deviation in their largely
monogamous pleasure.

`Not just him,' Declan muttered a little darkly.

`What, you don't find Slabhead sexy?' Mason said provokingly, still
stroking his side and leaning in as if to steal another kiss, but finding
himself cautiously thwarted and held at bay. He just sniggered and bit
his lip coquettishly before advancing towards the door to their room,
then straightening up his posture immediately when the door opened and a
timid elderly lady in a niqab emerged. Instantly, Mason Mount was prim
and polite and grateful, hiding his sizzling excitement, and thanking the
cleaner as profusely as he could, until she was departing in the
direction of the lift.

He turned around and was deeply amused by the mortified look on Dec's
face, the awkward hovering manner of the bigger lad. Mase winked silently
and listened out for the rustling metallic sound of elevator doors. He
burst into laughter immediately. `All good.'

Declan swore quietly and followed him into the room, and Mase was
delighted when his cautious partner reached instantly to squeeze his arse
once they were in privacy, encouraging him to turn back and kiss him
again. In this slower, more intimate snog, he reached around Dec's body
and snatched the `do not disturb' sign from its hook, breaking the kiss
long enough to hang it outside and close the door, knowing that their
intended guests would not be deterred by this one concession to
discretion.

`Do not disturb,' Rice was muttering archly, stalking further into the
cluttered room, and then giving him another of those mixed looks, very
Laurel and Hardy here's-another-fine-mess-you've-got-me into. `Oh,
that'll keep all prying eyes away, right, everything will be rosy.' He
stood pouting and folding his arms and then seemed to find himself quite
ridiculous and burst into easier laughter. `Fuck's sake. It's not just
Luke, it's big Maguire - this is a bit different than letting one mate
into our bed that time after the Euros, we don't really mess about like
this any more...'

`I know,' Mase said wryly, `isn't it a shame? Come on, you agreed.
This'll be fun.' He licked his lips and stared eagerly at his
boyfriend. `And we did LOSE, Ricicles, so backing out now would look
pretty fucking weak, right...?' In one smooth move, he clutched at his
blue England training shirt and whipped it up and away from the smooth
toned muscles of his developing upper body, exposing his increasingly
defined bodywork to his beloved, and refusing to be waylaid from their
planned pleasure.

Losers, he thought inwardly, and wanted to laugh again - he knew that his
excitement on the way from the training ground to the hotel might seem
like that of a winner, but he'd been far from gutted as the short-lived
battle in the pool had reached its inevitable conclusion, with the height
and strength of the United defenders proving too much for the nippy
younger lads. Losers, yes, but the forfeit... He grinned happily at his
boyfriend and then moved close, stroking his hands encouragingly and
pouting manipulatively in the face of his concern.

`This will be fun,' he insisted. `Let's get the room tidied. And...
fine, if you're a bit intimidated, you can just blow our Lukey boy.
I'll take on the Beast. Haha.' He winked and licked his lips again, and
panged with love for the bashful excitement in Dec's eyes.


Luke led the way down the short flight to the first floor and on across
the corridor to the room number of their friends. Through open windows, a
few loud cries and snatches of conversation could be heard from the
outdoor pool, where the bulk of the England squad must be relaxing and
recovering, and perhaps even wondering about the presence of four key
players from last night's squad. But nobody would be wondering THAT
much, by the sound of the fun they were having, and there was more than
enough time for the dinner plans for a little special recreation... This
was a pretty important round of recovery work, he thought with a dirty
grin, then turned to beckon Harry on after him, reaching out to briefly
stroke his wrist and arm as he did.

`This is daft,' Maguire chuckled quietly.

`Of course it is,' he agreed pleasantly, `but it'll be horny too.'

`We don't have to hold them to it,' the beleaguered United skipper
pointed out in a low voice, slowing his step again, and forcing Luke to
briefly halt. `I mean - it was just a silly bet, and they might feel
like right mugs after the way we thrashed them. We could just call it off
and all head downstairs and-'

`Oh, come on,' Luke laughed, shaking his head. `We've made plans now,
let's not let them down. I know you want this too, babe.' He grinned
insistently at the taller hunk, locking eyes with him and watching
Harry's crooked mouth match his expression. `You think they're
embarrassed to lose... pfft. Pair of them will be absolutely gagging to
get close to your huge whopper, you silly git.' He saw the slight flush
of embarrassed excitement on Harry's cheeks, and he reflected for a
moment on the more subdued and low-key guy that he was dating now, his
old assertiveness somewhat worn down by Old Trafford life and the Ronaldo
battles, not to mention their own rocky patches - it was a more relaxed
and liberated Maguire here in Qatar, of course, but also somehow shier
and more reliant on him, and it was a shift in dynamic that Luke wasn't
totally opposed to. But he knew what lay under the surface: he knew that
the majestic dom was still there.

`As if,' the 29-year-old was muttering, catching up with him, and Luke
just smirked to himself, then made a beeline for the obvious door and its
ironic do-not-disturb sign. He rapped his knuckles against the door once
and then allowed himself a brief light rub of his crotch through the
tracksuit pants in the matter of seconds before a hollered `Come in'
came muffled through the woodwork. He paused with his paw on the handle
and flashed another big toothy grin at Maguire, excited for this four-way
recovery fun, and then let them in to the other couple's suite, ready to
claim their forfeit.


Rice found that he couldn't stop chuckling nervously as they welcomed
the other two into the shared room. Glasses of still and sparkling water
offered and poured, light handshakes and fistbumps, wandering eyes and
suggestive smiles; a very brief phase of procrastination as they all
acted as if they didn't know what they were here for, and tiny safety
procedures were followed... Windows closed, heavy net curtains pulled into
places, and the door locked and double-checked from within. Rice did
this, and he unlocked and locked it one more time, knowing he was being
ridiculous, before turning back into the large airy bedroom. Mount was
encouraging the visitors to lounge back on the two neat king-size beds,
almost dancing on his toes as he moved about in just his pair of loose
bed-shorts, his six-pack and chest on show for the guests.

`Porn or no porn?' the Chelsea star was asking, happy to play host.

`Do they even have porn in this place?!' Declan found himself demanding
through laughter, drifting close to Mase's side, and shaking his head in
disbelief - the two Manchester players were laughing too, but Mason just
shrugged. He wasn't sure if he was more trying to entertain or caution
their victorious volley-ball opponents in what he did next, but he found
himself curving his arms about Mase's bare midriff and snuggling in
against the crook of his neck, kissing and nibbling him there in front of
the reclining defenders, either staking his hold on the sexy imp, or
warming up the older lads for the fun to come.

`I don't think we'll need porn,' Maguire chuckled dryly, and when
Rice lifted his eyes, he found that the lounging giant had pushed a hand
down the front of his sweatpants as he spoke, feeling himself up there.
Their eyes met, and Dec smiled nervously at the burly centre-back, then
looked at the more familiar company of Luke, who was feeling himself in
the outside of his tracky pants. Right, this was definitely happening
then.

`That's decided then,' Dec said blandly, taking the telly remote from
his boyfriend and tossing it away, then cracking his knuckles in a
businesslike fashion, and blushing when Mase sniggered at him and spanked
his behind.

`Luke, Deccers is gonna blow you,' Mason announced with a sense of
occasion, `and Harry mate, you get me, sorry.' He seemed to be in his
element. `So get your big cocks out and let's get this forfeit over
with, eh? And then we'll have a rematch next recovery day and the pair
of you will get totally spanked...' Dec smiled admiringly at the other
lad's irrepressible energy and confidence, and he shared a knowing grin
with Luke, who seemed entirely chilled and at ease on the nearby bed.
`Next time?' Shaw was joking loudly. `I don't think so, that was a
one-off, and the win is OURS. Now... I'm getting hard.'

And he sure was. Luke was pushing his tracksuit down, exposing the simple
grey boxer briefs below, and Dec could see the size and girth of it
again, lovely. He relaxed somewhat, sliding onto the bed with him, and
wrestling out of his training shirt. Top off and dick semi, he looked
across at the other bed and saw his boy prowling in between Harry's open
legs in a slow and teasing manner, licking his lips obnoxiously. Oddly
enough, he felt no jealousy, those days were long gone now. He knew Mase
was his, and he actually just felt excited for him... because Slabhead WAS
exciting, if a little intimidating, and if there WAS a little jealousy,
maybe it was more about their choice of guest...


Now he was in here, Harry felt entirely sure about the plan, and he was
already rigid. He grinned at the eager little twink between his open
legs, pulling his sweatpants down past his knees so that they bunched
about his shins and calves. He was still in black sports briefs, and they
were tented ridiculously about his huge hard-on, and he saw Mount's eyes
really light up to take in the reality of it. `Go on,' he growled,
`get your mouth all over it.'

As the briefs were lowered and his cock pulled loose, treasured in
Mason's hand, he turned and made grinning eye contact between the beds
with Luke, then stared back down. He yanked off his top to cool off, and
watched as the younger lad spat in his hand and then ran it up and down
his shaft a few times before crouching down low over it. God, had he ever
noticed just how sexy Mase was...? He stared into those sweet wide eyes
and watched as Mase drooled on the head of his prick and eased back the
foreskin, then wrapped his lips around the thick tool and began to suck
gently on the tip, easing very slowly into the forfeit task, and making a
lot of wet noise as he did. Maguire shivered and let out a slow first
groan, hurling his discarded top aside, and resting his hands on the
bedding to either side, resisting the urge to get instantly rough and
commanding.

A louder groan came from his precious Shaw, and he rolled his head to see
it in action, this profile view of the left-back stud sprawled out on the
bed, stripped naked but for his white socks, and Rice hunched over him,
licking the tip of his dick and holding it about the base. The West Ham
lad was red-faced already, and he looked so funny in the act of fellatio,
so macho and rugged really, and arousing in a very different way to his
sweet twink boyfriend, who was now gagging on Harry's proportions and
pausing to go `wow'.

Fuck yes, Maguire thought gladly, no regrets now about the daft contest
or wager, and agreeing with his secret Old Trafford boyfriend - this WAS
the perfect recovery activity, and just the thing to round off the chill
day at the training centre. This was just what they needed, not just him
and Shaw, but probably the younger couple too. As besotted as he was with
Luke (and especially with his new physique), his eyes had wandered
relentlessly since flying out here, but he never would have dared to
suggest any group action like this, not after some of their past
problems... Things with Luke had been beautiful and perfect this last
month, but it still seemed a fragile new chapter, and he was committed to
making it work 100%. But seeing Luke's muscular form tremble with
pleasure and lounge back on Dec's bed, the rugged West Ham captain
slurping across his shaft... well, Harry couldn't feel any fear or guilt
about pressing his cock back against Mason's wet lips and insisting he
try again to deep-throat it.

Instinctively, one of his big hands slid down there and closed about the
back of the lad's head, and in seconds he was making him gag, forcing
too much of his mighty prick in there, and purring with deep pleasure at
the feel of that throat on his meat. Fuck yes, this was just what they
needed.


Mount gasped for air and felt his eyes moisten a little, but he was also
laughing, enjoying the challenge and the forcefulness of Maguire's hand.
He recovered and went back for more, licking around the tip and then
trying again to suck as much of the huge shaft as he could, before
pulling back and returning to the more relaxed action of sucking merely
the tip, and wanking his wet fist up and down the lower half of the
beast.

He gurgled and groaned and fidgeted between the centre-back's strong
legs, loving the act of service to him, the forfeit for their poor
performance in the pool - but there would be nothing poor about his
performance here in bed, he thought with an inward giggle.

Again, Slabhead was getting rougher with him, pushing at his head and
clawing a little at his hair - he loved it, the fresh novelty of it,
reminding him of sweaty fraught days with his former club manager, old
Lampard. He always had to politely ask Rice to get rough with him, and
the asking took something away from the effect. Not that sex with his
Deccers ever left him less than perfectly satisfied, of course, but this
change of tone was FUN all the same. He was happy to choke and splutter
on the big brute's cock, and lose himself in the dirty deed,
surrendering to the forfeit.

When he stopped sucking on it, pulling his face away and resisting
Harry's insistent pushes, it was only so he could wipe his mouth on his
forearm, and then look excitedly over to the other bed, confirming that
his Declan was going to town on Luke's monster cock. Rice was lying on
his front between open legs, his pert tush on show, with Shaw's strong
hands massaging down his upper back whilst thrusting up into his lowered
face, feeding him that mighty dick that they'd both enjoyed before.

`Fucking hot,' Maguire grunted, and he looked up the man's stretch of
muscular body, grinning to meet his eyes and nod his fervent agreement. A
smirk of delight shared between the youngster and the more seasoned
England stalwart - a mutual appreciation of their sexy lads from
Kingston-upon-Thames, and a sense of easy pleasure in the sharing of
their playmates here today.


It was Luke who made the first nod towards swapping partners. Pausing
between deep groans, he nudged Dec's face away from his dick, taking
over and wanking it himself, and grinning encouragingly at the flushed
face of the young stud, then nodding over to the right. He didn't quite
verbalise it, but he saw the recognition in the midfielder's slightly
nervous eyes and curled lips. For a moment, the pair of them stared that
way, watching as Mase's head bobbed up and down, and then returned to
look knowingly at one another. There was the slight flick of a nod to
Dec's face, and Luke let out an easy moaning laugh, before calling out,
`Come on, let's swap places - come over here, you two sexy bastards.'

One bed was abandoned, and this one became a melee of fresh muscle. Luke
shifted to one side, stroking and massaging at Dec's body as he did, and
leaning over slightly to meet Harry's face for a deep slow snog once the
bigger man heavily rolled into place alongside him. They kissed again and
again, and then the other two had wriggled into place against them, and
Mason was instantly sucking him off, whilst Declan gave Harry's big one
a few experimental strokes and made nervous tittering comments about
dislocating his jaw for the job ahead. To Luke's pleasure, Harry wasn't
too rough or insistent - instead, he just stroked one hand down Dec's
cheek and then used his other to push and rub his wet cock-head against
his cheek and chin and then lips, slowly encouraging him, and purring out
the compliments: `Go on, give it a try, you sexy little captain.'

It was all so hot. Luke felt like he was on fire with pleasure. He'd
almost forgotten how good Mase was at giving head, much better than his
clumsy-but-sexy partner. And receiving it with his body squashed against
Harry's muscular hug just made it all the hotter. All four of them were
touching each other really, Maguire's strong arm wrapped about his
shoulders from behind, and Rice's right hand pawing up the soft fluff of
his inner thigh, whilst Mount's mouth did its brilliant work all the way
up and down his shaft.

Luke groaned and sighed and rubbed his muscular mass against the other
three, grinding his back into the pillows and duvet and mattress, and
reaching out to stroke across Mason's hair and neck, then about Harry's
hip and Adonis belt, then onto his lightly sweating six-pack. `Fuck
yes,' he gasped to their intimate foursome, and then, `Ohhhh god,
yes.' The blowjobs had stopped, and the young lovers were snogging, but
Mason's hand was running up and down his hard cock at a well-judged pace
and angle, and so he turned and locked mouths with Harry too, kissing him
deeply with tongues, and loving the feel of one of his big hands roughly
scratching through his hair and down the back of his neck.


Rice held Maguire's huge prick and marvelled at it, then tried again to
give it a suck, enjoying its girth in his mouth - but he didn't quite
share his boyfriend's talents, and he was quickly choking on it,
especially the way the United beast kept thrusting upwards and trying to
push his face down on it, and he had to tap out like an amateur wrestler,
laughing self-consciously as he rolled against Mount's body and drooled
stupidly down his chin, glancing apologetically up at the centre-back.
Harry just grinned and laughed and mussed up his hair before Luke's hand
was suddenly taking over the task and jerking him off with loving touch,
allowing Rice to rise up on his knees and take a moment, sucking in deep
mouthfuls of air and stroking his boyfriend's clammy back with long slow
touches.

His touch slid down across the firm muscle of the lower back and before
he knew what he was doing he was playing with his arse - pushing open
those sturdy cheeks and tickling a finger down the soft crack, really
wanting to plough that sexy arse and take a break from sucking off these
two muscle-bound defenders. Luke seemed to instantly notice what he was
doing and grin widely at the turn of events.

`You willing to share his arse as well as his mouth?' This was
Maguire's deep Yorkshire slur, breaking across the panting and gasps of
the foursome, rather than grinning Shaw. `My Luke wants to fuck him,'
grunted the United man eagerly, and Rice shuddered with excitement at
hearing the rugged sexy bastard saying all that - oh yes, he was willing
to share! He poked a finger into Mason's ever-tight hole and felt the
muscles clamp about his digit, making the sexy man rise up on his knees
at his side and relax back onto his exploring finger.

`Fuck yes,' the Portsmouth-born young hunk cooed. `Luke, yes!' But he
turned this way, all bright eyes and grinning lips. `Is that okay,
babe?'

Declan couldn't help but feel relieved to be asked, in spite of his
lusty eagerness, and he kissed him in response. `You ride that fat cock,
baby, show him how it's done.'


Harry lounged back side by side with Declan as they watched, and the two
Premier League captains wanked mutually, arms clashing as the played with
each other's firm sweaty dicks - and in front of them, Mason yelped and
gasped, facing them with Luke behind him doggy style, the whole bed
rocking with each thrust as the left-back pummelled noisily into the
twink's backside. Harry enjoyed every bit of the view: the younger
lad's wide eyes and mouth and the sweat pouring down his lean sexy face;
the arching and flexing of his back and muscles as he took it with
relish; even more, the powerful architecture of Luke's torso, powering
into him and holding him by the sides, thrusting so relentlessly; and
more than anything else, the determined manliness of Luke's face as he
focused on shagging the Chelsea beauty with every ounce of strength he
had.

Maguire turned and stared intently at Rice, giving his prick a squeeze
about the base as he formed the question on his chapped lips. `You mind
if I have a go?' the Sheffield bloke demanded in a low growl, but one
loud enough for both Mason and Luke to hear every word, even over their
yelps and grunts and the fleshy slaps of the fucked arse.

`Ask him,' was all the 23-year-old panted, his hand shooting up and
down on Harry's own shaft, his whole face and chest beetroot-red with
physical exertion. Harry grinned and turned his demanding look from one
young midfielder to the other, and then up to wink encouragingly at his
shagger boyfriend.

`Fuck yes,' moaned Chelsea's midfield star, `but... first, I wanna
ride my Dec's dick for a bit, okay?'


Mason shifted from man to man, pulling away from the gasping exhaustion
of sexy Luke, to straddle Declan about the middle and bounce up and down
on his beautiful familiar cock, yelping and whimpering in enjoyment,
before collapsing back in the centre of the bed and lifting his legs up
high and wide, and locking eyes with big Harry himself. `Go on,' he
called almost challengingly at the well-hung centre-back. `Show me what
you've got, Slabhead!' He let out a teasing laugh and twisted his head
to one side so he could give his boyfriend's tummy and chest a few
sloppy kisses, and then wrap his mouth about his cock when it was
proffered to him.

Rice and Shaw were on either side of him, pawing at his arms and
shoulders and chest, and Maguire was heaving himself into position at his
bottom end, spitting heavily onto his cock for lube, and hoisting up his
bottom and his sturdy legs with consummate ease, before pushing in the
head of his massive cock onto his wet hole and teasing him there with its
girth and firmness. It was definitely bigger than he was used to, and
bigger than Luke's, though both of the Kingston-born hunks were equipped
with long thick weapons that drove him wild - Harry's Yorkshire rock was
just on a different scale of sorts, and he had to really focus on
relaxing before it began to jut inside him, making the big fucking stud
groan deeply and murmur his name encouragingly: `That's it, Maaase,
mmm, that's it...'

But Mount had taken some big thick cocks, Barkley's and Chilwell's
included, and it wasn't long before the Man Utd man was buried to the
hilt in his perky arse, and thrusting slowly and carefully into him in
this position, gripping his legs tightly for control as he did. Every
muscle in his tummy and chest and arms strained visibly with the control
of this rhythm, and Mason loudly let him know how good it felt: `FUCK
YES, YOU FEEL HUGE, FUCKKKK...' He was briefly fed Dec's and then
Luke's cocks and then those two were disconnected, and it was just him
and Harry on the bed, his whole body shook with each slow powerful move
from the centre-back's strong body.

The other two, he realised, were fucking now too, and it was his Rice
Rice Baby who was taking it for a change. Declan was bent over the side
of the bed, hands pressed into the tangled sheets, and head lowered,
whilst Luke took up position behind him; true to nature, Shaw was being
slow and tender with it, clearly sliding spit-lubed fingers inside Dec's
less practised arse, and the sight of it was almost as delicious for the
23-year-old Lion as the feel of Harry's massive prick going in and out
of his ringin slow mighty bursts.


Luke pressed his cock against the hole and edged it against the anxious
tightness of the other sexy lad from his hometown, driven almost to the
edge of climax just watching the way his big boyfriend made a ragdoll of
Mason's 5ft11 physique; it amused him to note that Maguire was actually
going quite `gently' on the Portsmouth stud, slow and methodical rather
than wild and bestial, and that he almost kept pausing and looking
seriously this way, as if in constant need of approval. Well, Luke had
certainly punished him for some of his unfaithful excesses, and he found
it sexy to see Maguire now so concerned with his approval, his attention,
his equality; but he had nothing but total delight in watching his
liberated lover pound the perfect arse of the Chelsea boy, and to now
feel Rice's hole gently parting for his own hard-on.

The forfeit had been merely blow-jobs; this was now just pure reckless
fun.

Still, Shaw went slowly and carefully, knowing that the dynamic between
the London boys was mainly one-way, as his and Maguire's had been...
until recently. Though Luke's heavy top phase had been partly a
rebellion against the rockiest low in his affair with Harry, it was now
something he took great delight in, and it was good to be pushing his
meat inside another tight rear in this increasingly hot and stuffy hotel
suite. But like his bigger mate, he went slowly and tenderly, rather than
in the same rough manner that he'd come to enjoy lately.

For the next few minutes, he and Harry matched each other's pace,
pressing their cocks in long slow strokes into the tight bottoms of the
gorgeous younger lads, gratified by the moans and gasps and
expletive-filled exclamation of the boyfriends, who had now positioned
themselves so that they could snog whilst being bummed. On the bed, Mason
was doggy style and deep mid-snog with Declan, whilst Harry powered at
him from behind, one knee up high and one hand sporadically planting
resounding spanks on one stinging red buttock, every one of which caused
even wilder moans of pleasure to interrupt the kisses between the Chelsea
and West Ham `rivals'.


Dec knew that he wanted to try it, but he wouldn't have been bold enough
to suggest it: it was Mase again, always the initiator, giggling and
whispering in his ear. `You want to try sitting on this monster,
babe...?' And at first he just gasped and panted and laughed, feeling
Luke's sizeable weapon tickle his prostrate, but then he nodded his head
weakly and gave his boyfriend a coy, silly look, feeling faintly worried
that his regular playmate might somehow think less or differently of him
for enjoying bottoming this much today. But Mase, as always, just brimmed
with excitement and support, kissing him on the cheek and whispering in
his ear again, `Just so you can feel it... don't go any further than you
want, you can always tap out...!'

Shaw and Maguire seemed to have clocked what they were whispering about,
because the slow juddering force of the thrusts into his muscular arse
slowed further and then stopped, and now Luke was just slapping and
stroking at his cheeks and sides, and shaking with a light chuckling
voice. `Are we swapping over again then, guys...?'

Immediately, Luke and Mason were all over each other, actually daring to
kiss. This, he thought, was pushing his boundaries a little, less
enjoyment in seeing his boyfriend snogging the blond hunk, but he was
distracted by his own next steps. Harry was giving him a very serious
look, his expression suggesting that he seriously doubted Declan was
going to be able to take it; he might have been offended, except that he
entirely shared the pessimism. He faked confidence.

`It doesn't look that big to me,' he joked forcibly.

`Nah, it's just average,' Harry lied with a pleasant smirk.

`Er, what about if you lie back and I...'

`Yeah, let's try that. Hey Luke, can you stop snogging that twink? I
might remember to be jealous, ha ha.' Gurgled apologies sounded from the
other two, and Declan sensed his boyfriend being tossed down elsewhere on
the bed, and Luke pinning him down to (presumably) pound his hole.

Harry was lying flat, and Dec kept his back to the sight of Luke fucking
his boy, worried that his little strain of jealousy might flare up all
over again - but there was something very reassuring about the
half-joking possessiveness he'd heard from someone as powerful and
secure as Harry Maguire, and it made him feel better about both his
insecurities and Mason's playful need for other cocks. The older couple
were almost role models for the London lovebirds, the losers of the
recovery game.

Dec straddled him, shuffling his knees awkwardly about his sides, and
hovering over the prize cock, wanking his own slimmer meat hesitantly,
and studying the muscular strength of Harry's chest, the rugged angles
of his stern face, the deep dark pits of hair beneath his arms as he
flexed them behind his head, biceps bulging. `Take your time,' Maguire
growled patiently, and he did.

His bum-hole stung a bit from the brief powerful fuck from Luke, his
first in a while, and now he was hovering over it, he felt more aware of
how much thicker Harry's had felt on his mouth. Very slowly, he lowered
his cheeks and felt the firm tip rub against them and then between them,
and he laughed nervously. Harry seemed to watch him with an expression
close to patronising amusement, as if waiting for him to give up - the
challenge in that lordly gaze aroused and riled him, and he wanted to
prove the 6ft4 beast wrong.

Behind him, the gasps and giggles and slaps of the other two had ceased,
and he realised they were about him instead, suddenly invested in this
act. Luke had pulled up about the pillows and was jerking off close to
Harry's face, rubbing the tip of his dick over his cheek, and murmuring
down, `Suck me off, Harry, that's it.' It was odd to see big Harry
Maguire open wide and take a cock in his gob, and Dec wanted to feel
that, but he hardly dare ask - he knew the rules of their forfeit, even
if that had spiralled much further than planned.

`Try and relax,' Mase was coaxing him, rubbing his back, kissing his
shoulder, reaching down and patting his glutes. `It's huge, but it'll
go in if you want it to, just go slow... fuck, you look so hot right now
Deccers, fuckkkk... look how hard you've got me...!' And sure enough,
Mase was wanking himself frantically at the side, knee up on the bed, and
chewing his lip as he stared devotedly. Dec was determined to live out
this fantasy for him, if it was driving him so wild!

He felt Mason's free hand come to his assistant, positioning Harry's
cock under him, and then giving his hole a gentle pull with two fingers.
Dec braced himself and descended a little more, bending at the knees and
letting his cheeks part, and feeling the huge presence of it on his
stinging ring...


Mouth wrapped around Luke's cock, Harry felt himself tense up, and he
had to stop the lazy slow sucking; he shifted his head back to the
middle, reaching one hand to wrap around the thick dick and stroke its
wet shaft instead, so that he could look down the length of his torso,
and take in the sight of the squatting stud at his middle. He could
really feel it: the tight almost virginal ringpiece around the tip of his
big cock, reminding him a little of the disastrous first time he had
tried to fuck his Luke in the Christmas woodland snow, with no
preparation or foreplay. Declan Rice felt like he'd never even been
taken from behind before, although Harry had literally just watch him
getting buggered by his own gorgeous man, and he marvelled at the insane
tightness that struggled to envelope the girth of his cock-head. He
moaned deeply, unable to find words, and squeezed one hand about Luke's
cock and the other about one of Dec's calf muscles.

`That's it,' Mason was groaning, `can you feel it...?'

Dec just made a pained squeak of noise; Luke moaned appreciatively,
throatily saying, `Don't rush, lad' and then, `Fuckkk, Harry, you're
gonna make me cum, slow down...'

Ignoring the warning, greedy for climax, Harry tugged heartily on his
partner's prick, and gave in to temptation - Dec's tightness just felt
so good, he needed to be nuts deep in it! He pushed up a little with his
hips, lifting his powerful hairy arse cheeks off the bed, and- Dec's
yowl of pain was animalistic, and he was off his lap in a microsecond,
flopping back sideways on the bed and letting out a softer yelped
`Sorry!'

Harry blinked and grimaced and barked his own `Soz mate', knowing he'd
pushed too much, too fast, and ruined it - the daft lad wasn't up to
taking a dick of his proportions, for fuck's sake, it had been stupid to
try... But he found himself disinterested suddenly in the sexy youngsters,
and he turned to lock his mouth about Luke's cock instead, holding and
squeezing his arse cheeks as he noshed him urgently. Before long, he had
the mouthful he wanted, and all he could hear was Luke's groaned climax
above.


Mason was immediately administering tender kisses to his boyfriend,
smiling weakly as he hugged and stroked him and checked he was okay.
Dec's face looked pained, but his dick was still rock-hard, and Mase
reached down to play with it whilst he snogged his snarling lips, and
stroked his neck and cheek. `It's okay, it was just too much,' he
whispered, and his heart melted at the expression of apology on the West
Ham captain's face. `You sexy bugger, I fucking love you so much.' For
a second, Rice seemed set to say something apologetic or explanatory, and
he kissed him into silence, then kissed his way down his entire body.

In the background, Luke Shaw was groaning out his orgasm, but Mount paid
them no mind. He kissed over Dec's pecs and nips and down his six-pack,
and then took his cock in between his lips, and tickled at his tight
balls and the insides of his thighs. As he lay there and worked on him,
he felt hands on his arse, and fingers in his hole - he didn't know or
care if it was Luke or Harry, but he liked the feel of it, balancing
things out as he pleasured Rice with his lips, bringing him quickly and
effectively towards release.


Luke moaned and sighed, spent and exhausted, and watched as Harry
crouched there, frigging Mason's backside with two fingers, whilst
wanking his huge cock so hard. Still, he kept looking over one of his
massive shoulders and glancing excitedly this way, needing the
confirmation that he wasn't breaking some invisible rule and fucking up
their relationship again. But Luke, weary and satisfied, just smirked
benevolently back, and played lazily with his sagging cock, nodding and
mouthing `I love you'. Harry grinned wickedly back at him and then
pushed his meat back inside Mount, beginning to hump him a bit more
roughly and quickly than he'd done before, pummeling at him whilst Dec
cried out in climax. Luke watched through half-open eyes as the Chelsea
ace was filled at both ends, his body gleaming wet with sweat now, and
the whole bed trembling with the action of it. Fucking hell, this was
great.

Luke sighed heavily, his strong chest rising and falling, and he tugged
on his increasingly limp cock, totally spent. Still, it was a thrill to
watch, to see the power and pace with which his big Harry now smashed
into Mason Mount, who was still crouched over the convulsing body of the
other player, clearly swallowing down every drop of his Kingston cum. And
Luke could read Harry's grunts and groans well: in mere moments, Mase
was being pumped full of manly spunk at both ends, the lucky fella, and
Luke chuckled with faux envy at his friend's fortune.


Rice felt Mount collapse over him and cuddled up at his muscular frame,
only half-aware that his boyfriend had just been fucked mercilessly; he
was fairly oblivious of Maguire looming over them for a moment before
dragging away to join Shaw on the other side of the bed. For a moment,
despite the four-way play of the recovery game, only Mason existed for
him, and Declan wrapped his aching arms about him to hold tight, their
bodies still heaving and throbbing in the aftershock of orgasm. He could
feel the sticky traces of Mason's orgasm on his own abs, and as he
twisted his face, he could see little shiny traces of his own seed about
that beautiful mouth. He sniggered at the filthy beauty of it all, and
hugged his boyfriend tighter, delaying the inevitable separation that
would be needed to get cleaned up and organised. Heavy sighs and murmurs,
and then kissing sounds, reminded him of the Man Utd players' presence,
but he felt good about it - he felt happy to have shared their bodies
with the two burly defenders, and he felt far from a loser of today's
games.


Harry made the first move to break up the party, gently lifting Luke from
his chest and shoulder, and disappearing into the bathroom for the
obligatory post-coital piss. He washed his bits in the sink, then his
hands, then his face, and he laughed at his sweat-grimy reflection in
their mirror, thinking that he looked like he'd just played another 90
minutes against the surprising resilient American lads.

He strolled back into the room, playing with his limp cock, and smirked
when all three of the others looked him up and down from head to toe,
three pairs of eyes lingering over the beauty of his hairy crotch. He
laughed as he pulled his briefs off the ground and covered up the prize,
winking at Luke across the heap of the other couple's bodies.

`We ought to move,' he grunted with a fair amount of reluctance.
`Dinner soon.'

`Some of us have already eaten,' moaned Mason sleepily with a giggle.

`That was terrible,' Declan informed him through a yawn, refusing to
laugh.

`Throw me my pants, will you?' moaned Luke lazily, beyond them, rubbing
his hands over his pecs and six-pack, and then stretching his thick arms
out at either side. `I can hardly be bothered to move. Can't they bring
us dinner up here...?'

Harry, the most alert and recovered of the foursome, laughed at this and
he set about picking up underpants and socks and confusingly identical
training gear from the bedroom floor. `Oh yeah, I'll just bell
Southgate downstairs, will I, and tell him we're all too shagged out for
the team meal with the Embassy and sponsors... that'll go down well. Come
on, you fucking studs, let's get sorted.' He shifted among them with
slow and purposeful movements, tyring not to let his eyes dwell too
hungrily on Mason's tight muscles or Dec's dormant privates, throwing
them their clothes and helping Luke up to his feet. His boyfriend cuddled
him and kissed him sweetly on the lips, and then proceeded to pull on
item after item of clothing and go to take a loud echoing piss of his
own.

`Well, that was fun,' Maguire yawned to the other two as he pushed his
big feet into his trainers and readied himself to quit the room. He could
understand the others' temptation: he kinda wanted to just collapse down
next to the naked midfielders, the four of them just locked together in a
sexy heap. But they needed to slip discreetly back to their own room, and
freshen up before joining the rest of the squad again. Luke appeared at
his side and they held hands gently, both staring admiringly at the prone
forms of their younger lovers, who seemed incapable of getting up to say
goodbye. In fact, Rice and Mount seemed to have forgotten they were here,
and were pulling in close to each other and kissing noisily. Luke and
Harry shared an approving smirk and made for the door.

`We'll cover you with Southgate,' Harry grunted back at their hosts,
taking a stand for romance and privacy. `If you're late down, I mean -
we'll cover for you. Say you were looking totally wiped out. You guys
take your time.' He squeezed his big hand about Luke's and paused
before unlocking the door for them. He caught Luke staring at him with an
odd smile on his chiselled and bearded features. `What?'

`You're a soppy bugger when you want, hey?' Shaw whispered devotedly.

He shrugged one shoulder and flushed. `I'm trying. Come on, let's go.
Nobody's gonna cover for us...!' He went to unlock the door, but Luke
leaned in closer and kissed him on the shoulder muscle, and they shared a
sweet look - as he had every day since the train from London to
Manchester, he thrilled with relief, and thanked god or whoever for
bringing them back together after all, and giving them this whole new
chapter.




'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