Date: Mon, 27 Jan 2020 19:56:38 +0000
From: writer guy <premiershiplads@outlook.com>
Subject: Premiership Lads part 36: Rescued

Part thirty-six: Rescued


Luke Shaw wiped sleep from his eyes and returned his hand to the wheel, a
bag of nerves as he cruised his Fiat 500 through the deserted early morning
streets. He scanned the empty sidewalks and slowed the car right
down. Langley Road, as it turned out, was quite a long major thoroughfare
in this part of the city, although it seemed to get more run-down and
off-putting as he drove further down its arterial length. He was shivering
a little even in the driver's seat of his small car: a very wintry night
had settled on the city and most people would be waking to a thick frost.

Up ahead, he could see the road came to an end. Somewhere `near' Langley
Road, Harry had said. For fuck's sake – couldn't he have been more
precise? Luke slowed the car right down, and did an illegal 3 point turn,
the broad road of run-down housing and mostly closed businesses utterly
deserted at this hour. He rolled his car back the way he'd come and, on a
whim, turned down the first side-road he saw, which curved around towards
some tower blocks, and then... his headlights caught the hunched figure on
the kerb. He started, but not initially from recognition. He thought it was
one of the city's many unfortunate homeless, and he was frightened the
figure might lurch out into the road and he would be responsible for a
hideous accident. Only as his car drifted past the figure did two and two
equal four. No way.

Luke pulled the car to a squeaky halt, gripped the wheel, blinked his
sleepy eyes. He shoved open the door to his right and climbed out of the
little urban motor, staring a few metres back down the road. Yep, there was
the phone booth a little further on down, but nearer, the hunched figure of
a very well-built man, head in hands. Was that... blood?

`Harry,' he panted, jogging quickly to his side and kneeling. `Harry...'

For a moment the bloke seemed unconscious, then his head lifted a
little. Luke started back at the bloody, bruised mess that glanced
awkwardly at him then lowered again. He leaned down further and gingerly
put his hands to Harry's arm and back. `I'm sorry,' came Maguire's slurred,
chittering voice. God, he was freezing.

`Come on,' Luke said with some urgency. `Get up. Erm.' How to do this?
Harry was such a big oaf of a man, too heavy to be easily pulled about –
and clearly he was in some pain. Luke leant in, forced his head into the
crook of Harry's trembling arm, and then pulled at his jacket as he began
to stand. Bit by bit, he dragged the big freezing hulk of a guy into a
standing position, taking much of the weight on his own stocky
frame. Repeatedly, Harry seemed to drift in and out of consciousness, but
Luke shook at the lapels of his jacket and muttered his name repeatedly
until he returned to a more alert state, immediately wincing in pain but
letting out none of the emotive sounds he had over the phone. It looked for
a second like Maguire was going to brush him off, act like nothing had
happened, and stroll on his way.

`Harry, get in the car,' Luke said softly. Harry nodded his big head, and
shifted a bit more of his weight onto Luke's support, and together they
returned to the car, engine still revving gently against the frosty silence
of the morning. Luke wrenched open the passenger door, tried his best to
remind Harry of the low car roof, and did what he could to help the bigger
guy fold into the interior. Luke shut the door firmly after him, and stood
alone in the empty avenue for a few moments, panting out bursts of
condensed breath.

When he had let himself back into the driver's seat, he pushed hurriedly at
the buttons for his in-car heating, and took a proper look at the messy
figure beside him. Harry's face looked a bit swollen and darkened by
bruises, and there was dried blood around half of his forehead, down one
cheek, around his nose and lips. His mouth hung open and his eyes had a
dull, unfocused look to them. His tshirt was dirty with blood and water,
and he was still shaking all over. Luke wriggled out of his own puffer
jacket and threw it over him like a blanket as quickly as he could,
undressed to his own thin long-sleeved tee in the process. He pushed again
at the heater controls though it was already on full blast, but the effects
were slow.

`What the fuck?' he asked after a couple more moments of this, and then
again, `What the fuck, Harry?'

`I messed up,' the United captain said distantly.

`Yeah, I see that,' Luke replied quickly, but he regretted the harshness of
his voice. `What happened to you? Should I call the police?' A tumult of
other questions jostled in his mouth. `Are you okay?' he asked, rejecting
other more practical demands. `Harry, mate... are you okay?'

Maguire gave him a dead-eyed look, screwed up his face in pain, then turned
away. `I didn't know if you would come,' he mumbled, his voice a bit
slurred by the swelling of half his bottom lip.

Luke felt a surge of anger at this comment. It hardly seemed to be the
point, really. The fact he would leave his cosy bed at all at some random
drunken call from this stupid bastard, well that was enough... And here he
was, with dozens of questions and zero answers, and... `Of course I fucking
came,' he said fiercely. `I fucking love you, Harry Maguire.' He glared at
the shivering bulk in his passenger seat, bit his lip, and regretted the
sleepy honesty he'd just put out there. Finally, the heater seemed to be
doing its job, and warming the air between them. He looked away from Harry,
and grabbed the wheel. `We need to get you out of here,' he said
distractedly, and shifted the car into gear.



Luke reached into the roomy shower cubicle of his en suite bathroom,
twisted the nob, and tested the powerful jet of water as it shifted rapidly
from lukewarm to steaming hot. It splashed the sleeve of his grey t-shirt
and the black jogger bottoms he had pulled on his pyjamas earlier before he
stepped back from it, and glanced for the dozenth time at the ambling
figure he had helped up here via the elevator. Harry stunk of both his
excessive drinking and the dirt of the streets.

`I'd run you a bath,' Luke mumbled, `but I'm not sure you'd get in and out
of it okay.' He turned round to the cabinet behind the mirror, tugging it
open to look at what meagre medical supplies might exist in there alongside
his spare toiletries. He was really not a first aider.

`Shower's cool,' mumbled Maguire in the same rough, slurred voice he'd
spoken so little words in since being picked up from the street. `I
mean... thank you...'

Luke ignored this. What the hell could he say to that now? He pulled some
cotton buds and other shite out of the closet, and laid them on the counter
beside the sink as if he had any idea what to do with them, and then looked
at the steaming up glass of the shower compartment. `Come on,' he said, in
an awkwardly business-like voice, `let's get you in there, eh...' He
watched for a moment as Harry struggled out of his jacket, then reached
over to help him, yanking it off and throwing it loosely over the top of
the open door. Harry began kicking his feet out of his trainers and pulling
up on his thin, damp and dirty tshirt. Luke saw the slow reveal of
six-pack, but his eyes were not on the muscles, but on the purpling patches
of bruise exposed one by one. He held in a gasp of empathetic horror. Harry
was lost in a tangle of manky fabric as the tshirt came up about his
shoulders, and Luke reached over to undo his belt for him, then moved
towards the door.

`I will give you some space,' he said hollowly, but then, as the tshirt was
flipped off and tumbling to the tiles of the floor, a bare bruised arm
reached out and blocked the doorway. He stopped, looked to the side, and
their eyes met.

`Luke,' Maguire groaned, and it was obvious how painful it was to talk. `I
just...'

Shaw shook his head gently and looked down to avoid that pleading
gaze. `You just get cleaned up and I'll figure everything out,' he said in
the same brisk, practical act of unconcern, as if this was just a simple
little problem that could be brushed away in a matter of minutes. But he
could not look up into that crooked, battered expression without melting
back into the panic and worry that had gripped him from the second their
phone conversation began. He felt hot tears stinging dangerously at his
eyes, and fought them back angrily: did this fucking idiot actually deserve
that emotion?

`Stay,' Harry said.

Luke sighed out his frustration. Harry relaxed his bruised arm muscles away
from the door, removing the boundary, and stepping towards the shower
screen as he let his jeans slide away down his thighs – more bruises
there – and kicking his socked feet out of them before sliding open the
shower door. Luke stood watching, then felt Harry reach a bloodied, grazed
hand his way, and lock his fingers into his. Luke forgot for a moment he
was fully clothed, and let himself he pulled along anyway, and in they both
went, into the hot blast of the shower. Luke leaned forward and wrapped his
arms carefully about the trunk of Harry's body as they both drifted under
the hot blast – he heard the soft grunts of pain from the taller man and
adjusted his embrace, knowing and not caring that his top and joggers were
soaked in seconds.

He broke the wet hug only to tug up on the sodden tee, dragging it off his
body and slapping it to the floor of the shower cubicle, then shoving down
on his joggers and pyjama bottoms below, which hit the wet around his
ankles as he stood suddenly naked. He reached both hands to grip the sides
of Harry's own soaked-through undies and gave them the same pull. Now both
men were naked under the stream of heat, and they reached for each other
again. Luke pulled his mouth up to kiss Harry, looked at that swollen sore
lip, and planted his lips instead on the side of his neck, kissing up to
his jawline and back down, and rubbing his hands gently up the muscles of
the big Yorkshireman's back. He felt Harry's head droop down onto his
shoulder and held him as tightly as he dared. With one hand, he reached a
bar of soap on the side, and began to lather at Harry's sculpted frame with
gentle strokes. As the blood washed away, the big man looked a little less
like a dead extra from Game of Thrones, and a little more like a
particularly unsuccessful UFC opponent.

Luke soaped up his broad shoulders, and his neck, and down the broad curve
of his pectorals. He gently washed away bloody marks about his face, and
massaged at his biceps. He slid his hands over Harry's hips and gave soapy
strokes across his backside, and then the front of his thick thighs. Then,
turning their bodies gently against the steamy spray, he slid the soap into
Harry's clumsy shaky hands, and gave him a meaningful look. Harry gave a
tiny nodding tilt of his head, and began to do the same for him, working up
a soapy lather over his broad chest and flat tummy and across his thick
buttocks. Luke leaned into the bigger guy, gently hugging him, and letting
their cocks brush gently between them.

Luke realised he was getting quite hard now, though this felt so much more
than sexual. He was almost embarrassed by the swift rise of his erection,
as if it was disrespectful to the pain and embarrassment of the guy he had
rescued from the streets. He willed it to go down, to not ruin the tender
moment, but here he was in a steamy hot shower holding on to this big
beefcake of a man, who he had been longing to touch again for weeks now.

`It's okay,' Harry grunted quietly, his voice almost lost in the roar of
the shower.

Luke shivered as he felt Harry's fingers close about his thick tool, and
again, he planted soft kisses against the soapy girth of the other bloke's
neck. He felt Harry's other hand on his back, almost clawing at his thick
but toned body, working its way over his shoulder muscles and down to the
small of his back. The heat and force of the shower was too much now –
Luke reached out and twisted the nob into silence, until the only sound was
the gentle drip-drip-drip from their naked bodies, and their syncopated
panting.

He blinked hot water out of his eyes and caught sight again of the deep
bruising in colourful bursts across Harry's body, and felt momentarily sick
at the thought of such violence. But he was distracted by the firm tugs on
his prick. It felt good, but... Harry was in pain. He looked like he'd been
in a war. His face was twisted with the discomfort of it. Luke reached down
and brushed his hand away from his cock and shook his head. `Relax,' he
murmured. And for a moment, it was weeks and weeks ago, when this obsession
had begun. All he wanted to do was taste that big swinging dick, please his
teammate. It was like they were shivering side by side in a Dutch hotel.

Luke went down to his knees in the steamy warmth of the quiet shower box,
and ran his tongue against the drooping form of Harry's thick nob. He
played his lips against its width, buried his nose in the tight curls of
his pubes, and let out a gasp of happiness to be reunited with it. He
looked up, and he thought he saw a guilty expression on Harry's face. He
held him by the hips and guided him back against the wall a little to
support his aching body, and then took his mouth back to his prized cock,
which was quickly reacting to his touch. He fingered at the low hanging
balls, lapped his tongue over the foreskin and head, and slowly brought it
to its magnificent stiff extent. He opened wide and took it in with so much
more confidence than he remembered last time.

He let himself gag slightly on it after taking too much in, pulled back to
a more comfortable position, and then began to wank its thick base gently
while twisting his tongue and cheek against the tip in a motion he'd seen
girls do to him in the past. Harry began to let out gasps, that might have
been pain from his other injuries, but were hopefully just unadulterated
delight.

`Oh god... baby...' came the big lad's aching voice.

Luke groaned into his mouthful of dick and switched up his motion a
little. He let his fingers prod and tickle at the balls again, and with his
other hand he began to jerk himself off rapidly. But then he felt Harry's
hands pawing his shoulders and pulling him upwards. He very reluctantly let
the thick beast of a dick slide from his hungry lips, and used Harry's firm
body to clamber up, regretting this as his fingers brushed bruise after
bruise. He came up face to face with the bigger man, and suddenly their
lips were clashing: it must have hurt Harry, who was cut and bruised their
too, but it didn't seem to matter. Their tongues met and fought, their
noses rubbed, and Luke thought he felt or tasted a little bit of fresh
blood as the cuts were disturbed. Harry was reaching down between them and
wanking them both with one hand, cock to cock, shaft to shaft. Luke gasped
into his lover's mouth and had to shove his hands out against the wall and
shower screen to support his quivering body.

`Oh god,' he whimpered. `Oh god...'

`Yeah,' Harry gasped at him,' oh YEAH...'

Their orgasms were intense and seconds apart. Cum splashed against both of
their thick hairy thighs and they grabbed awkwardly at each other's bodies,
one in pain at every touch, the other grunting apologetically at every
misplaced hand. Eventually their breathy moans and pained yelps turned to
nervous, giddy laughter. Luke spun on the shower control again and washed
their sweat and cum away in a quick blast, reaching once more for the soap.



A little later, they were lying on Luke's double bed in a tangle of fresh
towels. The curtains were pulled shut, but outside it was already starting
to grow bright with wintry daylight. Luke lay still on his side, staring
thoughtfully at the bruised marks down Harry's bare torso. He rested his
head close to Harry's on the pillow, and reached over to trace a finger in
gentle loops over the man's broad chest, earning a gentle moan of approval
from his weary lover.

`We'll have to get you back to your fiancée and kid,' Luke said in a
quiet voice, free from any obvious resentment or accusation. Harry didn't
respond immediately, his own arm sprawled out about Luke's bare shoulders,
and gently thumbing at one of the younger lad's biceps.

`I suppose,' he murmured eventually.

`They'll be worried,' Luke pointed out a bit more firmly. `And we need to
contact the police.' A slight groan from Harry. `You don't have to tell
them exactly why you were there.'

`But Luke...'

`Those cunts took everything,' Luke said with unusual ferocity. `You have
to report it. What they did to you...' He felt a surge of protective anger,
and stopped his looping strokes, resting his hand more firmly on that big
warm chest and its slight patch of dark hair. `Look, you have to face... a
bit of trouble here. You were... let's say... buying drugs. Okay? Just
some... I dunno. Weed or coke or I don't know. And it went wrong. They took
everything, beat you.'

`Uh... yeh...'

`You cannot just go home, and to football, looking like this and NOT have a
story,' Luke pointed out.

`I know,' Harry accepted in a thin voice very unlike him. `You're right. Of
course you're right.'

Luke nodded gently into the pillow and half-smiled. `I know. Your
car... Well. While you sleep, I can go look for that, but I'm gonna guess
it is NOT sitting where you parked it... You're not even sure you locked
it. You need to report it missing, and cancel your cards, and your phone,
and all that... I'll help, of course,' he added. `But just... you gotta
tell me one thing. Okay?'

`Anything,' Maguire murmured weakly, and in this watery dawn light after
their shower together, it sounded to Luke like he really fucking meant
it. Luke looked at him earnestly, daring to enjoy the intimacy of the
promise.

`Why the fuck were you there?' he asked, and he found his voice wobble with
emotion. `Was it because... I was such a... because I was such a prick to
you all day...? Is that why you-?'

Harry rolled suddenly over with a wince of pain, and grabbed at him. `You
are NOT to blame,' he said with an urgent mutter, almost angry at the
prospect. `None of this is your fucking fault, okay? I just... I messed up,
okay? I've been... messing up for a while now.' Again he sounded desperate
and honest. `I haven't known what the fuck is going on ever since we
first...'

`I know,' Luke said quickly. `I'm... the same.'

`But tonight... I mean, yesterday...' The big United Captain sighed in the
tight space between them. `It all got too much. I kept fucking up. With
you, with the other guys, with Fern at home, with... And then there was...'
A pained look, as of a memory suddenly returning. Luke eyed him
suspiciously, worriedly. `And then there was the complaint at football,'
Harry said regretfully.

`What complaint?'

`Racism. Apparently. I mean... Fucking hell. I don't get it. I don't know
where that came from... It's almost like, I dunno, some fucking guy just
has it in for me, and wants to see me...'

Luke stared at him, and cast his mind back. Who wanted to ruin Harry
Maguire? Well, he himself, every other hour for much of the past month,
but... He pictured himself in that little physio room, grinning and
giggling with Brandon Williams. What had the teenager said, again?
Definitely something about the Captain needing to be brought down a peg or
two... Something about revenge... He huffed and fondled Harry's shoulder
muscle a little.

`I think I might have a sneaking suspicion about that one,' he
muttered. `You leave it to me. I'll see what I can do.' With great
reluctance, he pulled away, disentangling his limbs from Harry's, leaving
the warmth of the bed, and letting the towels drop away as he stepped up
naked to his feet, arse out for Harry to view. When he turned round, the
big muscular oaf was staring right there, shamelessly, and Shaw felt a
burst of pride and excitement. But that could wait for another day.

`Right,' he said. `Get up. We have to drive you back to the missus. She'll
look after you better than I can, eh?'

Harry moved slowly off the bed, stiff and awkward in every limb. `I doubt
that,' he said quietly, and Luke tried not to scream with pleasure at the
comment. He opened up some drawers, and tossed a few baggy spares over to
the bigger man before beginning to dress himself. The two men didn't say
any more as they pulled on loose tshirts and hoodies. Luke found deodorant
and spare socks, fetched Harry's stinking damp trainers from where they'd
been discarded (no way were his own shoes gonna fit this man's big
feet). And when they were fully dressed, they stood facing each other in
the apartment's small lounge, where things had first fallen apart with two
other lads involved. The memory seemed to brush both of them at once.

`Luke,' Harry began in a deep, worried voice.

Luke shook his head. `You need to rest, and to get those injuries seen to,'
he butted in, and partly he knew he was just avoiding the painful truths of
it all. `We can... talk another time. We just need to make sure you're
okay, yeh? There's a lot to sort out today.' Their eyes met, and Luke tried
to look intense and serious but emotionally unaffected. He could still hear
himself in the car yesterday blurting out what he really felt. Harry stared
back, all puffy-faced and bruised. Slowly, he nodded his head, and seemed
to decide against the long speech he'd been mentally composing.

`One last question,' Luke said suddenly, a nagging question returning to
him.

`Um... yeh?'

`Why did your ring me?' he asked. He saw Harry look almost hurt or just
confused by this, so he clarified quickly. `I don't mean why... I
mean. How? How did you... know my number, and not... anyone else?'

Harry smiled, a crooked, bruised smile. `Er... well. I might have deleted
your number, when things got too... intense. The first time, I mean. And so
there was a week or two where I saw your number flashing up on my screen a
few too many times. And then there was another week, wasn't there, where I
was the one ringing you back. That same number... always on my phone
screen.' He looked pained by his lengthy speech, and embarrassed and
vulnerable in a way Luke had never seen. `I guess it just... sank in.'

Luke nodded slowly, absorbing this odd summary of their `relationship' to
date. `Well,' he said in a matter-of-fact tone, picking his car keys up off
the sideboard. `Let's go face the harsh light of day, shall we?' He made to
walk past Harry, to lead the way out, but suddenly those big arms were
coming for him again, grabbing him over in a tight hug that lasted only a
matter of seconds, but felt like an eternity.

`Thank you, Luke. You're... you're the best.'

Pressed in against that big firm body and its heat, Luke sighed gently into
his own borrowed clothes, and clung on for a precious few seconds more
before letting go. Everything was a mess now, but this, right here... this
was worth it.