Part 256: Four Quarters (2 of 4)
The thing about a 90th minute goal, he thought, was leaving the match at an absolute peak of excitement and energy, wishing there was at least another half hour of play left to take the result from 2-1 to some wilder result. His whole 5ft7 body tingled with the pleasure of his success out there, bagging his goal just as the Quarter Final threatened to end on a dull draw -- the 20-year-old midfield wizard relished the hugs and back-slaps of his teammates as they left the home pitch and ambled indoors, he soaked up all of the growing appreciation from these older and more seasoned footy stars. It was odd to think that a year ago people were still making jokes about his wasted potential on the sidelines, and now he was a regular first team starter for a squad with the depth and range of Manchester City.
But in the crowd of loudly satisfied City men, the Stockport youth was inevitably looking for the approbation of one guy in particular -- when it came, it had the mix of thrill and bland disappointment that their public interactions always must. Their Spanish boss laid one stern hand flat over his shoulder, leaned in and briefly half-embraced him from the side, whispering only `Filipe' close to his ear before releasing the manly embrace and patting him on the lower back where his glossy blue home kit met the tight white nylon of his shorts, then ushered him on his way.
That was the public thank you and congratulation, anyway, in the melee of players and coaches at the mouth of the tunnel, but then came an opportunity for something more private -- `Foden, please -- there will be interview,' came the firm appreciative purr of Pep Guardiola's voice over the hustle and bustle, and he was being called away from the marching stomp of other players, sweaty and grinning and bundling into the Home rooms with the enthusiasm of the night's victory. Grinning and giggling beneath another hug from Aymeric Laporte and Ferran Torres fresh off the subs bench, the two continental players kissing and ruffling at his neat dark hair before leaving him behind, the short wiry Englishman could strut excitedly after the boss.
There is interview,' Pep barked quietly once they were further down the corridor, but not for few minute, I speak to you first...' A deeply happy grin curling on his lips, wrinkling the sexy eyes in that handsome olive face. He shouldered open a side-door and suddenly they were away in a shorter separate passage, Phil still panting and recovering in his clingy City kit. `My boy,' purred Guardiola instantly, clutching hands just above his elbows and looming excitingly over him with that grin.
I knew I could score,' Foden gasped for his Papi. I knew I could finish it. I mean, I know it's just the first leg and there's another 90 mins, yeh, but I just knew we couldn't end 1-1 tonight so I went and-`
`You were excellent,' Guardiola assured him, but almost dismissively, as if in the precious moments of privacy they'd obtained here, he did not actually want to talk about the great match result that had everybody buzzing. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Phil's brow, then reached warm fingers for his clammy chin to tilt his face up and kiss him properly on the lips -- even though one thin door separated them from the noisy tunnel and the risk of exposure. Already breathless from the end-of-match excitement, the young prodigy shivered and clung to the thin wool of his manager's jumper, letting his lips trail after Pep's to prolong the kiss.
`Tonight?' Foden dared to ask in a brittle voice, feeling the heat and firmness of Guardiola's upper body through the thin jumper and tight shirt below.
A patient, lingering look and smile from the Barcelona man. No, it is not time,' he said in a voice that was slow and heavy. Not yet, my boy, not yet... Soon, Filipe...'
Phil burned silently at this rejection, this deferment -- he was ashamed by the petulant neediness in him every time he asked, every time he was reminded that the tactician needed his focus, couldn't give in to their lust until the season's victories were fully in sight. He accepted this fully, so utterly sure of Pep's love and brilliance, but still it tormented him, even more so when there were little kissing moments like this that reminded him just how good his Papi tasted. He held in the whine of disappointment, the little growl of lust, just needling his knuckles against Pep's chest and giving him wide-eyed devotion from his sweaty young face.
`Soon?' he echoed quietly.
So soon,' Guardiola promised gruffly. You know our lead, our points. Soon we will be in the Champions League final, all will be ours... and then you be mine... again.' It was always satisfying to hear the hesitation or reluctance in the 50-year-old's voice, see it in his whitening knuckles, allowing Foden to feel sure of how much his older lover wanted him again, how professional and cautious this separation between them was. Sometimes it gave Phil little waves of guilt and regret, thinking that the months of wild sex between them had weakened and distracted his idolised manager to a point of brief alarm in City's trajectory, but then he could reassure himself with moments like tonight, where he repeatedly repaid Pep's trust in him on the field.
Well,' he mumbled now, sinking back on his heels a little and moistening his chapped pink lips, what about anything else? I mean -- what can I do to help, boss? What can I do to move things on?' He flashed eager dark eyes at the middle-aged football manager, who grabbed and stroked his cold hands in his own warm palms. Phil was thinking about the recent trend in their interaction, the little `tasks' he had been charged with by the boss to both satisfy his 20-year-old libido and help Guardiola to maintain his powerful hold on the team.
Mmm?' moaned Guardiola distractedly, sliding his hands up Phil's forearms and holding his lithe body closer for a daring moment, making Foden want to just melt into his embrace and reach for the heavy front of his tight navy blue chinos. My Filipe... you have done so much tonight! Your performance, that goal...!'
But,' Phil pushed anxiously, can I help with...'
`You help already, my boy!' emphasised Guardiola.
What about your meetings tomorrow?' Foden asked brightly. Kev's goal was great but maybe he needs some help really knowing he still matters, y'know, before you and the fellas speak to him tomorrow about this new contract and-`
The contract is all but done,' Pep murmured, kissing him again on the forehead and the temple, rubbing at his upper back. You do not need to worry about de Bruyne or his contract, that is not your problem, my dear boy.'
But maybe he needs some... reassuring?' Phil said with a reedy strain of hope in his voice, licking his bottom lip again and thinking about the match's other impressive goal-scorer on the City attack. He knew that securing a new deal with the Belgian master had been a long-term challenge for his boss, knew that KDB's ego had flared up at a number of transfer rumours and there had been some tension over the extent of his pay deal and guaranteed central position. The thought of being able to help' in some way excited him, the challenge of being the one to help make sure Kevin knew how valued and vital he was in this side...
He is fine,' Pep said with a hint of chuckle in his voice, kissing Phil briefly again on the mouth. It is sorted. And...' More gentle laughter. It is Kevin. I am not sure you skills would be the thing to help, eh? He is... well. He is Kevin de Bruyne.' Phil grinned at this, amused by his own assumption that every hot-blooded man in football might be swayed by fellatio -- he understood the gaffer's point, that the red-headed Belgian man was a little more serious and stuffy than the fierce Latino spirit of most players here, like Foden's last and dubiously successful task' with Aguero. Really, Phil thought, de Bruyne was too straitlaced and conformist to be led astray, surely, and he abandoned his excited little fantasy of work there.
Guardiola seemed to stiffen up and become more aware of their precarious spot, behind one thin door off the main tunnel, and with the inner recesses of the Away facilities stretching darkly in the other direction -- echoes of the visiting Dortmund team faded around the corner to them, the gruff voices of defeat and disappointment sounding from the German visitors. Both men glanced that way and then back at one another.
No,' Pep reaffirmed, you do not need to do any more, Filipe. Relax, enjoy your night at home, be proud of your work -- and so soon, we will...' He leaned in and whispered scant details of a night to come, giving `Filipe' brief insight into the night-long session of debauchery that waited for him when City's biggest wins were sealed. The talented youngster sighed with the delirious happiness of delayed gratification and reluctantly parted from the warmth and comfort of Pep's body, ready to be led aside for a brief interview, which he would now have to conduct with a semi straining at his briefs.
In the changing rooms shortly after, Phil's fantasies of being an agent of sexual pleasure for his older man continued to flicker in his head, the adrenaline of the game still pulsing through him as he peeled out of his shirt and socks and watched the other men either disappearing nakedly into the showers or return as steaming adonis figures who would readily towel dry their private parts beside him with no knowledge of his hungry eyes.
He positioned himself beside de Bruyne initially, still a little fixated on the blotchy pink face and tufty ginger hair of the Belgian player -- the very stiffness and conventionality of the married father made him such an interesting goal for Foden, who had been ogling the thickset 29-year-old all season but become a little more intent on since Guardiola started `pimping' him out like this. He smiled wistfully at the bare-chested man next to him and dropped the idea for now, surprised however when Kevin leant over and tapped elbows with him.
Hey,' he said in his broad open voice, where is your friend tonight?'
The word friend' took Phil by surprise, given that he'd just been cuddled and kissed by their head coach, and he blinked stupidly at the taller midfielder for a moment, until Kevin hesitantly clarified -- Tommy, Tommy Doyle -- he is not on first team at all lately!' Even when made clearer, the question was an odd surprise to Phil, who looked gormlessly back at his teammate and scratched at his own six-pack.
Stuck with the Under 21s mainly,' he said when he'd collected himself. Shame, he's such a good player, but there's... well, so much competition.' He gestured vaguely around them, just as two of the side's most pronounced defensive players strode past with towels tied low about their waists, Walker and Stones bruising by with steam rising off their muscular torsos. It was a sight that gave Foden brief distraction, catching the eye of big John for a moment and flushing scarlet in his cheeks as he always did when faced with the big attractive Yorkshireman who had fucked him so hard on the floor of the training ground bar. Too many top defenders,' Phil voiced weakly, for poor Tommy to get a look in at the moment.' He glanced back at Kevin, whose expression was ambiguous and thoughtful.
Yes,' de Bruyne said, a little distantly, I suppose so.' And he pushed away, finally scooping down his underpants but replacing them with a towel in a prudish instant, allowing Foden only the briefest glimpse of the white muscular cheeks beneath -- if he hurried into the shower now though, he might steal a better view!
Foden undressed fully, wriggling out of shorts that stuck to his thighs and tugging down the supportive black sports briefs -- like KDB, he was self-conscious about being fully nude in here and he hurried to throw a big towel about his waist, goofy grins left and right to try and dispel his vague physical anxiety about being naked around so many guys. Another near-naked figure was passing him by, emerging from the showers and keeping a strong fist on the knot of his towel as if anyone might try to tug it away -- and again, the youngster locked eyes briefly but intensely with the guy in question.
Whereas his interactions with Stones, congratulating and ego-boosting the redeemed defender on Guardiola's behalf, had been a clear success and the only awkwardness that lingered was in how much Phil wanted a repeat performance, he was less sure that his work on Kun had gone well. Yes, Sergio Aguero had gone on to give a couple of amazing return performances in the fortnight after fucking Phil's mouth, but he had also now terminated his contract and confirmed he would leave for new challenges in summer -- officially, this was all fine, a mutual parting and one that Pep showed no worry over. Phil, in these moments where Aguero glared heatedly at him across a room, could see that the decision had been at least partly triggered by their transgression, the powerful Argentine clearly uncomfortable and regretful about what he'd done.
Phil put these difficult thoughts away, remembering how strenuously Guardiola had reassured him that nothing was his fault, and he went into the showers himself -- disappointed that the room was far too steamy for him to get the coveted view of Kev's big pale body a few yards away, and instead just soaping down his own lean muscles and trying his best not to spring a full erection at all the mixed fantasies in his overheated brain. He knew that he should be grateful to just cruise home and be safe and relaxed with his family, his proper female partner, but his longing to be in Guardiola's bed or at least fulfilling some other fantasy on his behalf... well, it was hard to shake off.
When Foden was drying and dressing, the changing room was rapidly clearing out, a late-ish home game always ending with a slight hurry as the men competed to slip their overpriced cars out and away into suburban paradise before anyone else. The young father knew he ought to be doing the same and he felt the familiar twinge of guilt that he didn't quite want to rush back to his premature responsibilities just yet, taking too long to climb into clean boxer briefs and a new Adidas tracksuit, stealing a few final glances at the other lingering men -- a tantalising peek at Ruben Dias pushing his bulge into the front of some fresh skinny jeans, a little view of Gabriel Jesus' butt-crack as he bent over to put on new socks -- and then lugging a bag over his shoulder and tottering out of the Home rooms, wishing he could sneakily meet with Pep once more before he made his exit.
Phil headed for the VIP car park where he would find his motor -- the showy sports car that had been his birthday gift from Pep last year -- and follow the other guys out onto the road back to suburban conformity. He was so young, but fatherhood put him in the same position as teammates ten years his senior. He was just reminding himself how lucky and grateful he was for this, rather than wistful and frustrated, when his path into the brightly lit indoor car park was blocked by a figure leaning at the wall, grinning at him over an Adidas face-mask that matched his own. Over the strip of protective mask, a pair of cheeky eyes blazed at him, and he recognised the louche slouch of the other young man well before the restricted facial features -- in an instant, the other lad was bursting at him for a protocol-breaking hug and Phil was quickly relenting, surprised and delighted to be reunited with a close pal.
Jadon,' he breathed, I had no idea you were here...!'
I was hardly gonna miss a change to see my old stompin' ground, was I?' the Dortmund winger said by way of explanation at some point on the short drive. Freshly 21 and full of the same nervous young energy as Phil tonight, Jadon Sancho added, Not even that injured any more, the bastards should have let me play tonight so I could tuck one in against the club that let me get away, y'know?!'
The spot, a low grassy rise overlooking part of Man City's training ground, was a favourite spot of the pair and some of their other youth academy pals back in their teens -- initially, as a helpful vantage spot where they could watch some first-team training going on in breaks between their own intense schedule, and later on, a favoured location by the likes of Sancho for a cheeky can of underage lager and smoking, hidden from the multi-million pound regime devoted to their health and fitness. Though tonight's six-pack of local beer was fully legal, nestling down on the grassy verge and staring down into the blacked out silence of the training ground still had a certain teenage taboo to it, lifting Phil out of the maturity and responsibility that awaited him elsewhere.
You can't still be going on about that,' Phil said playfully at his friend when the topic of Jadon's City axe came back into their light rapid chat. You've had a fucking great innings at Borussia and they say basically every club in the League is after you for your Premiership debut, right?'
Jadon, his hoody unzipped and hanging loosely over his shoulders, just shrugged, swilling cheap beer from the long thick can and lounging back on the cool grass. `Bro, I dunno if I'll ever forgive it, you get me? Me and all my talents and they fobbed me off with some tiny fee to the first European team who showed any interest, right? It's bollocks. I could be tearing up the fucking League with you guys right now if some people had seen what was in front of their eyes.' It was hard for Foden to tell how much of this was ambitious exaggeration and how much was genuine resentment -- he knew that there had been a long phase where Sancho had struggled with being sent to Germany in his late teens after several years working to reach a professional contract at City. He was also painfully aware that his friend's clung-to vision of early success was the exact path he had forged for himself in the past few years, very much graduating within the City fold whilst Jadon was cast aside -- it had strained their long-distance friendship and earned Phil some barbed remarks from the other young player when they occasionally reunited in England shirts.
To steer their late-night chat in a more positive direction, Foden asked Sancho about the transfer rumours, trying to pick apart the tabloid fluff from what deals were really on the table. Everyone had expected fiery Jadon to land in the English leagues this season, so the rumoured moves to United and so on seemed less credible and likely a year on -- he found himself trying to work out what was either blocking the deals or keeping Jadon committed to the Bundesliga, but neither answer was forthcoming. As the conversation continued, he realised with sympathy that Sancho didn't even have answers to half his questions, reminding Phil how much footballers could become pawns to the big money machinations of the clubs and agents. He supped guiltily on his own beer and considered how secure and treasured his own position was -- Guardiola had openly described him as `off limits' for any transfer negotiation to the press last year, a protective outburst that had made Foden rock hard when he read it on his phone.
It'll all be good,' Jadon said, crumpling one can and going to open another. Bruv, you've seen what I can do, I won't have to wait long for my moment. Maybe I'll skip the fucking Premiership and take my hot ass to Barca or Juve, haha. I'll have CR7 or Messi for a mentor.'
Phil just grinned at this cocksure yet not totally unrealistic chat, hugging his knees and looking nostalgically back over the training ground where they had ogled and envied their superiors, two talented youngsters awaiting their big chance. Local boy Phil had quickly bonded with the brash Londoner, mainly because of the confidence and happy-go-lucky attitude he was now pushing; Jadon had spent many days and nights visiting the Fodens in Stockport, homesick for his London roots, and it had genuinely upset Phil when his buddy was shipped off to Dortmund. Reuniting with beers here tonight felt great, gave him a warm buzz, distracted him from his sexual frustration.
Still, imagine if I was at City,' Jadon mused, a dog with a bone. We'd be unstoppable.'
Sure,' Phil could agree, delighted by the thought of playing more regularly with the winger, and indirectly excited by the likelihood of their places in a youthful Euros team under Southgate this summer. And I am still loving it here,' he added, unwilling to fully suppress his own success to protect his mate's ego, `I'm proper chuffed with how it's gone recently, you know. No disrespect to your team, bro, but stepping out there and scoring the winner for Pep, you know, it's just been my dream since I was a kid, it really has. Well, you know.'
Totally,' said Jadon without envy. It's fucking cool to see it, Fodes. Hey, did you message Doyler?'
I did, no answer,' Phil said with slight sadness. Guess he's busy?'
`In lockdown?'
Shrug. We're not as close as we were, I feel kinda bad about it. He hasn't made the cut for the team in a while and he's mostly off with the youth teams still, you know -- I miss him as my hotel buddy. Although...' Not for the first time, he thought guiltily of how many times he had been supposed to share a suite with Tommy on away trips, then had it manipulated otherwise so that he could room with the boss without raising suspicion, fucked intensely by his glorious Spanish master. I hope he's okay, and not too pissed off with me.'
Don't be soft,' scoffed Sancho, punching him in the arm. Doyler's a good lad and you are too fucking wet to dislike, Philippa. Everybody loves ya, ain't that true?' He smirked through his goatee, picking up old jokes and banter -- Phil's mild manners and work ethic had always made him the most popular youth trainee, earning buckets of praise that never went to his head and just earned constant affectionate teasing from his teammates at every level. Sancho was the opposite, he remembered: feisty and self-absorbed, competitive and vindictive. Still, the two of them had always got on, at least partly because they recognised that their talents exceeded most of their contemporaries.
Shame, though,' Foden added. Be nice to have him here drinking with us now, but another time. I'll pass on your regards.'
Yep, give ginge my love,' sniggered Sancho, give him a wet willy from me.'
`Grow up, Jay!'
`Like you? Bro, I don't go in without a rubber, I ain't ending up the youngest DILF in Cheshire like you, no way José. My freedom means too much, bruv!' Happy teasing laughter from the German league sensation, which struck a nerve with Phil's current concerns, but still amused him, mainly at the thought of Sancho having to settle down and be a parent to anyone. He was 21 now, a little older than Phil, but he was still boyish and teenaged in his humour and behaviour -- even his clothes, his baggy tracksuit bottoms halfway down his arse to reveal plenty of white CKs hugging the side of his butt. An easy quiet fell between them and Phil realised he had been staring at the glimpse of cheek for a moment too long, flashing his eyes back to the view and finishing his lager.
You sure are the big star here now, though,' Jadon conceded quietly, and he smiled at the compliment. Starting in that squad of big names and experience, huh. It's mental. And you're a bigger cert for England than any of us, for sure. Nah, don't deny it bruv, we all know. Everyone says you were unlucky to be born English, haha.'
`I've worked hard to get here,' Phil found himself muttering almost defensively.
I know, but there's other things that's got to help, right?' He peered at Jadon, starting a little at this comment, scratching his chin and shuffling from lean buttock to buttock. I mean, they still call you the Golden Boy, do they?' his friend continued, lounging sideways and fixing him with a slightly menacing smirk. Phil was about to retort, but Jadon continued: `You can see how much old Pep loves you in every fucking interview or butt-smack on the side-lines, Philippa. God, imagine if he'd had any of those feelings for me? I wouldn't be stuck eating sauerkraut then, matey.'
Foden just frowned and looked away. I've done a lot to impress the boss, I think I've proven myself enough now for people to stop with silly nicknames and-
Bro, I'm not just talking about that,' Sancho said, and his voice was a little firmer, pushier. Foden looked back at him, vaguely worried, studying that knowing smirk and the complacent way the other youth slugged back lager until a little bead of it trickled into the hair on his chin. How long has it been going on between you and him, Fodes?'
Gulp, frown, stare. What the fuck? `I don't know what you mean,' he began in a stiff rehearsed manner, hugging his knees tighter and dropping the can to his side, not caring when it toppled and spilled its froth into the grass.
Jadon just sniggered and sat upright. `I guess you thought you two were on your own just there, eh?'
`When? Where? What do you mean?' The hot rush of panic filled his ears and his chest and he gritted his teeth, staring at the light playful expression on his friend's face. He sucked in breaths intended to keep calm but without any success. Part of him wanted to leap up into a run and flee from the ex-City boy now, as if speeding away in his sports car could undo this whole conversation.
I was just shuffling about,' Jadon said, almost apologetically. I was looking for a way to sneak into your Home rooms, to be honest, just wanted to catch up with a few people, I had this joke to tell that big thug Kyle Walker, y'know...' Here Sancho seemed to pause and collect himself, unhappy with the tangent he almost went on, but his grin and knowing eyes flared again. `Come round the corner and what do I see but a fucking Disney princess kiss going on between my boy Philly Fode and the Barcelona godfather himself. Oh my days, bruv.'
Was there any point in denial now? Hot and horrified, Foden just stared miserably at him, his mouth going dry. He picked up his spilled beer and took a long sip, but it tasted sour and horrible against his choking dry throat. Stop it,' he murmured painfully, hunching a little more where he sat, I don't wanna talk about this...'
God, imagine what I could do with that info?' Sancho demanded. Imagine! Like, looking back, what if Guardiola had fancied me instead of you? Maybe I'd be breaking records in the Prem instead of playing with farm-boys in that joke league, ha. But heck, what would people say if they knew what Pep got up to behind the scenes?!'
Don't,' Phil blurted. Don't tell anyone. It isn't- He's not-`
`When did it start?' Jadon demanded, returning to his original question.
Not so long ago,' Phil told him quickly, his voice miserable. It wasn't when you were here, it wasn't anything dodgy like that...'
`But it's gotta help you get on the team,' probed the opposition player.
No, I don't get special treatment,' Foden insisted, but with enough quavering uncertainty to make Sancho laugh. It's not like that, man, I'm not just... I mean, you wouldn't understand, it's... You can NOT tell anyone, Jade, promise me, it'd kill me if anyone knew that... Fuck!' He trailed off as the other lad, crumpling a second can and lifting briefly onto his knees to lean over and pat his arm, burst out in rich laughter that took a while to subside.
Bro!' wheezed Jadon, shaking him. You think I'd fucking do that to you?'
Yes, though Phil earnestly, but `Nah,' was the more appropriate answer that sighed out.
You think I'm gonna blackmail you or some shit?' cackled the Dortmund winger. We're like brothers, fucking hell. I'm just annoyed you never told me, that's it. No judgement here, Philly. You do whatever works for you. Especially if it keeps you getting Champions League starts ahead of some of the most expensive players in the world, yeah...'
It isn't like that,' Foden told him more harshly, hearing the force and passion in his own voice. I'm not with him for my career, I fucking love him and he loves me.' Hearing it out loud made him shiver and recoil a little, but he was shocked by the warmth and pleasant nodding of his friend's face, rather than further laughter or teasing.
Cute,' was all Sancho said, and the two of them sat cradling their chilled beers in the quiet night. I wasn't spying on ya,' Jadon said after a while, `I just stumbled around the corner and got an eyeful. Whoa, that kiss. You two are like something off a soap or some shit. Good for you, dirty dog, I'm guessing your bird ain't got a clue? Or his wifey?'
Phil scowled weakly at this and shook his head. `Don't, mate, please.'
Nah, nah, don't worry...' A pat and squeeze to the shoulder that was surprisingly comforting. It's good, I'm hardly one to judge, I'm not exactly Mr Monogamy, and you should see some of the birds I'm pulling out there, bruv, it's unreal. I'm happy for ya, I am, as long as he's treating you good and you're still keeping your head in the game. Or, you know, giving head in the game.'
`Oh, fuck off...'
`Haha, you must though, right?'
`What?'
`Be giving him head? Or is it like, the other way round? Dirty old Spaniard after your big Stocky cock?'
`Shut up, Jade...'
`Which way round is it? Or is it both? I don't really know how you bummers operate, do I...'
Shurrup, man,' Foden whined, but a little laugh slipped through his distressed tone, and he pushed stupidly at Sancho as the stockier 5ft11 player trying to grab him in a little hug. Can we just not talk about this, please? It's embarrassing. I've said too much. And yeah, like you say, you don't know and you can't get it, so just...'
I bet you suck him real good though,' pushed Jadon, refusing to be quieted. He leered and threw his arm more fully around Phil's shoulders. I can see it, that dirty mouth, hiding behind all the politeness and Golden Boy antics, I bet you suck real good when your Pep tells you to, haha.' Phil just gawped back at him, alarmed by how graphic and dirty he was being. `Guardiola's little cocksucker, right?' It wasn't just surprising, Phil thought, it was -- embarrassingly -- turning him on.
Still, he just mumbled another `Shurrup!'
`Guess you're pretty talented, if it's been going on a little while?'
Please, mate, just-
`Bet you suck better than most birds we've had, eh?'
`Jade, can you...'
`Why don't you show me, Philippa?'
He was about to mutter more protests and disgruntled pleas, but he stopped himself, hunched there with a beer in one hand and the other pressing at the other lad's chest to part their bodies, but now he was staring into the lopsided grin and calm eyes of the handsome mixed-race Londoner, who had finally fallen quiet to let his last question hang dangerously in the air between them.
`What was that?' Foden asked hoarsely, squeezing the beer can a little more.
You heard me,' grunted Sancho simply, winking. I've always wondered if it's true that lads do it better, like they say. And bruv, I could really do with spunking a load right now, yeah...?'
Phil's car was parked in a deserted street only two minutes from their drinking spot, an inadvertently perfect position for what was now to happen. Still, it was stupid and risky, one passer-by was all it would take to ruin them both. But still they hurried through the darkness and into the plush luxury interior of the vehicle, comfortable but restricted, and Foden turned to stare eagerly at the 21-year-old in the passenger seat, then reached across impatiently and felt his legs through the baggy material of his Adidas pants.
Come on then,' muttered Sancho breathily. Show us what you're made of, Golden Boy.'
`Oh yeh,' the City prodigy groaned eagerly, and he slid his hand over to take hold of the prize, finding the swollen outline of his friend's privates, giving them a good tug and squeeze before twisting his hips and leaning over across the divide. Jadon always wore too much strong aftershave and the cloying scent filled his head, mixed with a mustier sweaty scent as a series of shuffles and drags brought the baggy pants to the knees and allowed him to sniff and nuzzle at the front of large white Calvins. They too were peeled down and away, pushed and pulled across the fluffy brown of the winger's thighs, his ample manhood freed.
His cock was not long but it was thick and shapely and the tip already seemed to glisten with a little leak of excitement. Phil opened his mouth and took it in, wasting no time on preamble. The risky setting was exciting but it also gave momentum, he wanted to do the dirty deed quickly and allow him to drop Jadon back off at the Dortmund hotel near the stadium before either of them could be in trouble. He was glad when his friend gasped and whined so immediately with enjoyment. `Boy, I knew you'd be good, but... fuck, seriously bruv...'
With the confidence of his experience, Phil sucked on his friend, taking inches of it into his mouth and slowly dragging his lips back up the shaft. He swirled his tongue about the head, pushing back the skimpy foreskin and really mouthing at the plump tip of it. He stroked the curly soft hair on Jadon's inner thighs and teased gently at the squat outline of his balls below the meat, only lifting his face to gulp in a breath and drool saliva messily over the rod.
`Shit, bruv, mmmm...'
`You like that?' Phil purred sluttishly after a while, holding his drooling mouth over the cock and rolling his eyes up to look past Jadon's zipped-up hoody and into his impish goateed face, his eyes half-closed and his lips pursed tightly. Sancho could just nod, rocked by a wave of pleasure as Foden's tongue dropped back against the sensitive slit in his head and then enveloped more of his cock in another diving motion.
Sucking off Sancho was unexpected, but not THAT much -- he'd known since their mid teens what a horny pest the other talented lad was, knew him to be a prolific womanizer and fairly adventurous. Foden could remember a 17-year-old Sancho boasting to he and Doyle about the middle-aged woman who had let him try anal on her for the first time, and the two more cautious teens had struggled over whether or not they believed their confident pal's exploits.
What DID shock Phil, mouth full of cock, was when one of Jadon's hands crept over his back and around his body to find his own sizeable erection in his trackies, an awkward stroking reach to pleasure him whilst he sucked and licked. He looked up questioningly to the 21-year-old, drooling from his chin, unsure about this boldness. What?' grunted Jadon quite moodily. Don't you want me to?'
Phil just nodded and went back to work, and then reached artfully for some little levers that would relax both seats back slightly to ease their postures. Jadon's hand pushed down and beginning to properly wank him through trackies and trunks while he hunched over the rich-smelling crotch and slobbered about the thick brown dick fed to him. He wondered if the sleazy Dortmund lad had touched another guy's dick before, if he was playing down his own man-to-man experiences in demanding this blowjob -- was it really his first, or had he toyed about before?!
That's good,' Sancho said in a whiny voice, stripped somewhat of his usual bolshy tone. Just... erm... play with my arse a lil bit too if you want, yeh...? If you want, bruv...'
Phil certainly did want, but what made his cock leak pre-cum against the other lad's palm was the fact that Jadon wanted too. He knuckled the thighs a little more open and began tickling more at the heavy balls while he sucked, then slid one digit below to nudge the warm skin and hair of his gooch. The seat shifted further back into recline and Jadon's body responded, opening his legs a bit more, pulling back, allowing Phil access... he stroked one finger into the tight cleave between muscular cheeks, thrilled to tease his friend in this way, forgetting to keep up the oral work because he was so shocked at his progress.
`You can finger me a bit,' Jadon muttered to him -- when he'd suggested the blowie, he'd been cocksure and arrogant, but now he sounded... hmm. Phil more than happily obliged, slavering on his fingers before returning one slick wet tip to that crack and pushing it a bit more firmly between the cheeks, running down the intimate gorge and finding the knotty entrance.
Jadon stopped trying to wank him, a nervous hand just clamping on Phil's shoulder, and he lay back more fully to give in to the double attention. Foden was careful to keep up his skilled licking and sucking while he forced a finger into the ever-so-tight hole and began to gently prod there, making increasingly pitchy moans drool from Sancho's mouth, and bringing his thick tool closer to the peak of pleasure. That's it,' the normally cocky London lad gasped, that's right bruv, mmm...'
Phil stopped sucking him, knowing how close he was and surprising himself with his urge to prolong the dangerous encounter. He lifted up a little, working his one finger carefully, and felt a shift in the dynamic between them, one that thrilled him with its novelty. He sat back slightly, and with his left hand, took hold of one chunky bicep beneath the other lad's hoody sleeve, gently guiding him over the other way. You wanna see what you can do?' he asked uncertainly, stroking his friend's back and eyeing his dozy expression, his own cock throbbing. You want to try sucking me?'
He saw fear and conflict in the other footballer's face, but not shock or annoyance at the bold suggestion. He dug his finger in a little further, provoking a large moan, and then Sancho seemed to become passive and jelly like against his hand, leaning willingly this way and nodding his head once. Phil removed his right index finger and settled back into the driver's seat, literally and metaphorically, while Jadon hunched his way with short sharp breaths of nervous anticipation, and then unfurled the big Foden meat from its trap. He seemed shocked by how well-hung the Stockport scally was, people always were, holding it at the base and just staring curiously at it.
`Only if you want to,' Phil told him gently, rubbing his back with his left hand and creeping his fingers down towards the arse again, finding and tickling it from the other direction with the other hand. He brought the hand back over and, following instinct, rubbed two left fingers against Jadon's lips to moisten them, encouraging him to lick and suck them in a way that suggested he'd done it before, then reached over and applied them to his rump. In sync, he slid one wet finger down against the tight ring, just as Jadon's head drooped and his lips fumbled at Phil's big dick.
Oh, wow. Jadon didn't know what he was doing, had clearly never sucked dick before, but it felt amazing to have him try -- his dirty cocky mouth applied clumsily to Phil's sensitive and oft-neglected equipment. The feel of his tight ring closing about one then two of Phil's fingers, poking and tickling him in that very private spot, feeling the heat of him and the firm strength of his big buttocks. Now it was Phil's turn to groan senselessly against the leather of his car seat, unsure how long he could wait before blowing his load -- he was conscious that he would need to warn nervous Sancho to avoid choking and terrorising him with the massive load that was bound to unleash.
The attempted blowjob from the heftier young guy didn't last long -- after a while, Jadon's face was turned up with an expression of adorable apology, as if embarrassed that he didn't really know what he was doing with his full lips and broad rolling tongue, and worried that it was no good for the more experienced of them. Phil just smirked back at him and buried his two fingers more fully inside him, loving the way it jolted his usually smug face, made his mouth hang open with pleasure. `You like that mate?' he gasped in a thin voice, loving the way he had the bigger stronger 21-year-old hunched across him like this and his fingers deep between his fluffy cheeks.
Feels fuckin' sweet,' coaked Sancho, his face hovering beside the long thick curve of Foden's own juddering prick; the inexperienced straight boy took hold it and jerked it, staring almost fearfully at it, looking as if he couldn't decide whether to put his mouth back to it and try again. Phil didn't mind, he thought he would cum any second, and he warned his pal -- I'm gonna blow soon, mate, you're just really fucking turning me on...!'
Jadon moved warily away, looked disappointed when his position meant Phil's hand left his arse, but then they returned to the initial position -- the Dortmund sensation lounging back on the passenger seat with his trackies and CKs about his knees, legs spread so that Phil could crouch down to suck on him AND jab one finger repeatedly between his cheeks. `God,' the sexy bastard whined, both hands brought up over his clammy face, unable to look as he was doubly pleasured by Phil's talents -- although the task of finger-fucking like this was new to Phil, had only ever been something he'd played on himself in his loneliness, wishing it was any part of Pep Guardiola rather than his own digit. Fingering himself had become a shameful act of loneliness, but here it was an exciting sexual adventure, teasing the tight hole and clearly making Jadon edge closer and closer to- oh, yes, mmm, the wet mouthful of his seed, bursting against Phil's palate.
Jadon panted behind the mask of his own hands, his hoody all ruffled and bunched up past his midriff, while Phil just lapped eagerly at the salty mess about his cock and his balls, slowly and carefully retreating the single index finger from his arse in a way that would feel slick and comfortable to the heaving, panting figure of Sancho. Phil sat back, still almost sideways, and gripped tightly at his own member to jerk himself off, thrilled by the side-on view he had of sprawling Jadon, his cock still flopping and drizzling cum, his balls squashed between quivering thighs, stretching down to the waistband stretched above his knees... mmm, what a sexy fucker he really was, and even more so with a bit of intimacy and vulnerability rather than the showy bravado with which he had once entertained Phil with his sexploits.
Here,' muttered Sancho now, taking one hand off his face and reaching over. You sure?' Foden gasped back at him, but the hand was already on his nob, there to finish him off, jerking on him with a brief burst of speed and confidence until his cum lanced out and splattered across one of those chunky, dark-haired thighs, pooling against the caramel skin and wiry little hairs. Foden, propping himself up against the dashboard and his own seat, heaved out orgasmic breaths and locked eyes with Sancho's still nervousness until, first him then his friend, giggles burst out from between their moist lips.
Here,' Phil murmured softly, there's wipes in the glovebox.' They jostled side by side for a little as he fished out the packet and dragged a couple out for them -- seeing Jadon's clumsy daze, he just did it himself, wiping helpfully at his prick and legs and scooping away the mess they'd made, momentarily wishing he'd just stooped to lick more of it up. But he sniggered and smirked and joined the laddish mischief of his friend's mood, now that the deed was done.
`You're bloody talented, bruv,' was Sancho's breathy review, rolling down the passenger window and dragging up his CKs and trackies, a red blush in his acne-marked cheeks and a few beads of sweat visible on his brow. He stared out of the window, presumably to avoid eye contact, while Foden finished tidying and wiping and adjusting his own still-engorged member in the front of his tracksuit pants.
Talented AND hardworking,' the young City star boasted cheekily, a return to their earlier discussion of their abilities and careers. He drummed his fingers on the wheel for a while, watching his friend but unsure what to say to neutralise the tension. You sure liked that, buddy.'
Who doesn't like having their cock sucked?' This retort seemed to ignore what Phil really meant, thinking still about how good it had felt digging one then two fingers into the hot tight entrance at the back of the sturdy football player. But he didn't push the topic, didn't want to make his friend squirm or regret anything, so he just laughed and agreed, then commented lewdly, And who wouldn't like sucking that big thing of yours, Jade? You sure no lad's ever gone down on it before?'
Sancho flashed him a cautious uncertain look, briefly irritable, and his answer was suitably evasive. No bloke has sucked me off before,' he said simply, but in a tone that suggested he was not fully new to this exploration and taboo. Bet there's plenty of dirty fuckers on that team of yours,' he added, something curious and demanding in his eyes. `Bet lads like Kyle Walker are always swinging their dick about and getting in trouble.'
Phil took this as a random example and just chuckled as he started up the car. Er, you could say that. I mean...' He sniggered as he let go of a little truth. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't had my mouth around his big prick before, Sanch, but don't go pushing me for details, it was a long time ago...!' He blushed himself and got the car onto the empty road, cruising along to the turning and joining the slow quiet nocturnal traffic.
Right,' the Dortmund youngster was murmuring to himself, right yeh...' Phil did not look across, was too busy concentrating on his driving, and so did not see the embarrassment or nostalgia on his fellow Lion's features as his memory played over his own experiences of Walker and his dirty ways. Unseen by Foden, Sancho brightened and started chatting about his trip back to Germany tomorrow, the last couple of weeks of rehab he had to endure before he would be match-fit -- and Phil casually asked who he was rooming with at the approaching hotel.
`Oh, with Jude as always -- sweet kid but he's a bit boring, y'know? Not like you, bruv. I think I'm meant to look after him, us being the only two Brits on the squad, kinda thing. Mind, just you wait til I get up to the room and start telling the young dweeb about what we've been up to tonight, his face will be a picture...!'
Phil stared across the front of the car in horror, losing focus on the road -- and Jadon immediately burst out laughing, slapping both hands on the dashboard. Relaxing, the City midfielder joined him, cackling at the stupidity of it and the friendly trust that still existed between them. Right,' he muttered in relief, turning them off the main road and onto the approach to the slick hotel where visiting teams were usually housed, all gleaming lights stretching up into the night sky. So our secret's safe, mate?'
Pinky promise,' Jadon laughed, locking little fingers with him for a moment like they used to back in the day, then reaching for the handle of the passenger door to his left. I mean, who would believe me if I went around telling peeps that you're noshing off your manager? Oh -- wait -- everybody, haha, because we can all see the sexual tension every time he praises you. Hehe. Night night, sweetie...' With a wink and a leer and a heavy dollop of his more typical swagger, Phil's childhood friend was exiting the car and taking a jaunty walk across the car park to the hotel, trackies sagging low to give a half-view of his round rump as he went, making Phil's finger twitch and his lips grin -- what a fun night it had been after all, now back home to responsibility!
The bed creaked as the other man left it, and in the tiniest sliver of light that crept in between the curtains, the bed's remaining occupant watched the large pale body cross over through this narrow pool of glimmer, giving brief flashes of muscled back, leg, arse, the striped socks that the Belgian hunk still wore even when they lay briefly in bed. Head against the pillow, Tommy Doyle watched him bend over to pull up his underpants and then his jeans, breathed softly against the sheets as he watched his secret visitor button up a plaid shirt and say nothing at all.
Rolling a bit onto his side, the young City reserve wrinkled his nose and brought a hand up to wipe a little dot of spunk that remained on one freckled cheek, smearing it away on the front of his loose pyjama t-shirt. Below, his own undies were still bunched about his ankles where they had ended up, and his own cock, rigid and untouched, pushed obnoxiously at the soft duvet, devoid of attention. Of course he was rock hard, he'd just lain there playing little spoon to his team's hot midfield star after giving him a long and satisfying blowjob in this bed, sneaked once more into the big house he shared with his parents and siblings.
Doyle was unsure what instinctive or impatient urge made him move from his current position, but he stepped out of bed himself, stepping across the cluttered room to where de Bruyne was crouched to collect up some spilled items and stuff them back into his pocket: wallet, car keys, phone. As he came back up to standing, Tommy paused in front of him, naked from the waist down with his own hard-on rising impudently for attention between the firm muscles of his upper legs.
`Do you have to go?' the young defender asked in a dull voice.
Kevin cleared his throat, made a long performance of dragging on his thin waterproof jacket, slipping in and out of the light as he did. `You know I do,' came his murmuring voice, brittle with his Belgian accent and the usual post-orgasmic awkwardness of their private little meetings.
`But...' Tommy couldn't quite bring himself to say it, but he let it speak for itself, the erection bouncing below the hem of his t-shirt, and he hovered there, feeling silly and exposed even in the darkness. He let out a loaded huffy breath of need -- again, why was he complaining now, when he'd repeatedly accepted the one-sided nature of these meetings to suck off the attractive older man? Early on, he'd even happily colluded in the notion that Kev was the one doing him a favour, allowing him to experiment and try out what he'd spent his teen years fantasising for. But now, as the months wore on, and the secretly arranged visits became less frequent...
I have to go,' the Belgian told him heavily, edging to the door. Thank you.'
`You're welcome,' Tommy replied with ambiguous sarcasm, following the stupid formality.
`Er...'
`Just go,' he sighed, not moving any closer or following him to the door, just standing there with his hard-on and his creeping sense of dissatisfaction. After the more boldly reciprocal incident he'd once shared with big handsome John Stones, he'd thought that he might build the confidence to try more and stretch his wings -- but no, he'd been far too embarrassed to ever approach Stones about what happened or share it with de Bruyne, and so he'd simply fallen into this holding pattern of confusingly intimate cuddles and hungry subservient oral sex with a married father of three, who was now staring at him from the doorway as if about to say more -- then going, closing the door stealthily and disappearing through this wing of the house, out into the night to drive home. Tomorrow, Tommy knew, he would be signing his big extension deal with Manchester City and committing to more seasons of success -- Tommy had hoped they might talk a little about this, since Kevin had previously unloaded his worries and career anxieties to him in private, but no. Tonight's visit had been simple and needy: Kevin calling him from the street corner, let in through a side-door, stripping to lie in the bed, insisting the lights were off, sucked until he blew, then silent spooning.
Not so long ago, the young defender reminded himself, it had been enough. But now...?
Tomorrow the big simple stud who he had fallen for would be inking a fresh contract to stay put in Manchester and remain at the heart of Guardiola's mammoth squad -- but young closeted Tommy Doyle was becoming restless to escape, and find an environment where he might be more free to become himself.
'Writer guy' - Premiership Lads on Nifty https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/celebrity/premiership-lads/
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