Part twenty-seven: Fun & Games at Anfield
Andy Robertson finished towelling dry his short dark hair and blinked at this reflection in the mirror on the changing room wall: he was confident enough to see a ruggedly handsome young Scotsman there, but insecure enough to worry that he wasn't as slick and insta-famous as some of his big name Liverpool teammates. He sniffed at his ginger-stubbled face uncertainly and pulled away from the mirror to quash the silly vanity, and finished dressing: pulling a team sweater over his tshirt and tying the drawstring of his Liverpool tracky bottoms then forcing his feet into some fresh trainers, a few muscles aching from the tough afternoon of training but otherwise feeling very refreshed. The energy at the club was so high at the moment that training often left him feeling more energised than drained, even when Klopp was working them so hard.
`You ready mate?' came his teammate's voice, and there was Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, exuding the same post-shower heat and freshness. His expensive aftershave rolled over Andy's senses for an overwhelming moment. This was exactly the kinda slick designer-touting fella that made Andy feel like a right Scottish NED in this company, but it was only a nagging worry at times. Largely he just laughed at his poseur teammates and was proud of his Glaswegian roots.
Aye, aye,' he said gruffly. Fuck, could do without an interview right now, you know what I mean?'
Alex, dressed in the same club-branded gear, just shrugged his bulky shoulders and went to the mirror to fiddle with his tight curls and freshly shaved fade. Andy rolled his eyes at the preening in denial of his own moment, and he swung his kit bag playfully at the bigger lad's back.
`Come on, prick,' he said in his harshest West Coast tones.
`Yeah, yeah, let's go,' Ox agreed casually.
It was some short media thing, they'd both volunteered for it when nobody else looked keen earlier. A short interview, they'd been promised, just some tiny skit for a Sky Sports compilation this weekend. Both men suspected it was unlikely to be a little less low-key than promised, these things ALWAYS took longer than you were promised. And though Robertson was far from shy, he did find media attention a bit uncomfortable and invasive. He much preferred to be proving himself on the pitch than in front of a microphone. But he was glad of Alex's company here, rather than resentful: the southern lad was much more articulate and media-savvy, and would make the interview experience an easier ride for Andy.
The thing that surprised Andy, as they followed a member of staff round the rabbet warren of corridors and staircases at Anfield, was that there was a proper Sky presenter waiting for them in the arranged room. Yeah, there he was, Jamie Redknapp: the ex-player and one-time Liverpool star was in one of his expensive-looking, well-fitting navy suits, flirting outrageously with a young production assistant and waiting for them in the press room.
Lads,' the slick presenter called warmly as they arrived, thank you SO much for agreeing...'
Alex was immediately approaching him and grabbing a handshake. `No bother, chief – always happy to talk about being the best club in the league, especially to a former Anfield lad.'
A long time ago now!' the ageing heart-throb chuckled, and turned to grab Andy's hand too. But yeah, I had a fucking great decade up here. We just didn't win quite so frequently as you fuckers are managing right now... legends.' A lot of sycophantic laughter from the female producer and the bloke behind the camera, and from Alex too. Andy was less easily amused but he chuckled along. He was wary of a greasy media whore like Redknapp, but he had some respect for him compared to the less experienced members of the press teams.
`Where do you want us, then?' Robertson grunted a little impatiently. He hoped he wasn't being too rude, but he wanted them to know this was a bit of an imposition, that he and Ox had lives to get on with and had been at work all day.
It was a quick interview, to be fair: the cameraman and producer seemed to spend as much time faffing and prepping as Jamie actually did interviewing them. There were only a couple of questions and Alex, wide grin and sparkling eyes, did most of the talking. Andy laughed along and agreed readily where possible. And just like that, it seemed to quickly come to an end. Thank fuck. He might get home to his girlfriend and son at a reasonable time after all, at this rate. The cameraman was rolling his kit out of the small press room and the producer was taking old Jamie aside for a debrief, leaving the two twentysomething footballers to chat idly.
You could be a prick like that one day,' Andy said lightly. Presenting, and that. You're good with the chat, you know.' He smiled warmly at the other lad, one year his senior, a good inch taller, and much broader. He was always a good laugh, and a player Andy had a lot of time for: but it was harder to look him in the eye these days, after that mad session at New Year... why was it so tough to look at the handsome bloke without seeing him crunching on a soiled Oreo?
Huh, maybe,' Ox told him, but I hope I don't have to retire as early as him... I am jinxed with the fucking injuries already, mate...'
Andy laughed but regretted the comparison, and patted his mate's muscular arm a bit. Oh yeh, but you're not in and out as much as HE was,' he said reassuringly, though the parallel was unavoidable. I just meant...'
`I know what you meant,' Alex said with a grateful smile. That smile. Those gleaming white teeth. Why was it tough to see them without remembering what the lad had done when losing their dirty little game...? Andy had been the one to suggest it, it had seemed a funny idea, but now it seemed to... haunt him. He admired that Alex had gone through it, and yet...
Lads,' interrupted Jamie, adjusting his blazer as he returned to the meeting table they were sat at. The suited Sky presenter dropped into one of the curved chairs and pulled it around the corner a bit to be closer to them. You mind if we do a few more questions now? It's just for a piece I'm working on for my newspaper column, that's all. No more camera or nothing, they're heading off.'
Andy felt vaguely irritated but beside him, Ox was readily agreeing, and he could hardly rock the boat. He nodded, shrugged, shifted about in his own seat. There was something intimidatingly stylish about Jamie and his crisp white shirt, no tie, his tight thigh-hugging suit trousers. What a smug cunt. But what a handsome cunt, he added, resentfully. Would he look half that good when he was approaching 50?
`Well, what do you wanna ask us?' he said, not quite as confrontationally as he felt, but enough to earn a smirk and raised eyebrow from Redknapp.
Ah, just this and that,' Jamie said. A bit about team spirit, club morale, the Liverpool mindset. That sorta thing.' He leaned in across the oval table a bit, and tapped the surface a bit, sliding a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his blazer, but putting them down and making no move to take actual notes. `What sorta shit do you lads get up to here, to keep this close bond going?'
Andy faltered at this question, given what was on his mind, and to his right, he saw a similar effect on Alex's face. For once, the Ox was a bit lost for words, so Robertson pushed in. Ah, usual banter,' he said vaguely, the same stuff that went on when you were here, I'm sure.'
Jamie made a suppressed chuckle, and scratched at his own faintly greying stubble. Oh I dunno about that,' he said thoughtfully, I've heard lads are a lot more sensible now than some of the weird shit from the 90s! A different game in the 21st century.'
`Well, we're too young to know,' Andy pointed out a little sourly.
It would be good to compare, I guess,' Alex said more pleasantly. I mean, I'm 26, he's 25, so we're of a certain generation, yeah... Would be funny to know how different it was back in the 90s when we were just little footy fans at home, hah. What sorta shit did YOU get up to here, Redknapp?'
`Please, call me Jamie...'
`I bet it wasn't that wild,' Andy said, cynically.
Oh, I don't know,' Redknapp said, and gave another little snigger. I could shock you.'
Alex turned to look at Andy, and it was meaningful. His big hazel eyes said very clearly `if only he knew', and Andy almost burst out laughing. It was true. Surely an old relic like Redknapp would be aghast at the banter they'd got up to that day lately at Andy's curious suggestion... right? He looked back at the older bloke, and his knowing smirk.
`Well, we had our games,' Jamie said carefully.
We all have our games,' Alex returned, a bit more cocky now. We had some mad fun just the other week, you wouldn't believe...'
Andy glared at him momentarily: it was one thing chuckling about it, but surely he wasn't gonna fucking mouth off about what they'd done to this creep, was he? Just standard stuff though,' he cut in. It's probably no different to other Premiership teams, really. We just, er... Win more.' Nervous chuckle.
`And who won this game the other day?' Jamie said a little too knowingly.
Well,' Andy grumbled, there wasn't so much a winner, as just...' He looked almost apologetically to his Liverpool buddy before finishing. `Just a distinct loser,' he admitted. Alex suddenly looked a bit less confident and playful. He had looked distraught, for a few minutes, after that game had ended, and they'd had to hit the showers...
Oh, THAT game,' Jamie said suddenly, and the two young Liverpool stars turned back to look sharply at him. Could he really know? The presenter just chuckled, and then slowly stripped off his blazer to look more relaxed, adjusting his crisp white shirt and open collar. So who ate the fucking biscuit, then?' the 46-year-old ask bluntly.
Andy gawped at him, then glanced at Alex, who looked petrified with the clarity of the guess. The Scotsman rallied defensively. None of your business,' he said firmly. Team banter is team banter. You better not be recording this shit.'
Jamie just gestured lightly at his closed notebook, laughed gently, and settled back in his seat. Alex finally seemed to recover enough to speak. `How did you know we meant that?' he asked, sounding a little impressed as well as uncomfortable.
Oldest laugh in the book, that,' Redknapp said dismissively. Played it plenty on the teams I was at, lads. Never fucking lost though.' His pride was evident. `God, the poor fuckers that would end up...' He paused, and there was that knowing smirk on his face. Andy looked over and Alex's face was giving everything away. He looked so ashamed.
Ox did what he had to do,' Andy said quietly and defensively. Don't give him that look, mate.'
Jamie smiled and turned back towards him. `Hey, I'm not judging... You gotta respect the game.'
I just had to,' Alex blurted out uncomfortably, and Andy supposed this was the first time the other lad had vocalised or confronted what had gone on. He looked at him sympathetically as he rushed to explain himself. I agreed to play, so... I lost fair and square, I just had to...'
Yeh yeh,' Jamie agreed patiently. It is what it is. I'm just saying... I never ended up in that position. But... respect to ya, Alex.' His eyes turned back to Andy. `So this big lump of muscle has eaten your spunk, Andy, lad? Hah, that is too funny...'
Andy felt riled. He hated Jamie's smug dismissal of their antics, and he felt his good pal's discomfort at the line of questioning, and the truths that had spilled so easily in front of this outsider. But he also felt... excitement. The game had played on his mind over the past two weeks, the fuzzy memory of the laddish banter and the developing rivalry... And here was a pillar of masculinity, an old-school figure like Redknapp, casually normalising what they'd done, making HIS own silly idea seem so much less risqué...
`His and three others,' Alex groaned honestly.
`Now I need to know who,' Jamie said, and there was a surprisingly eager glint to his eyes.
Nah,' Andy butted in. We ain't telling you that. So drop it. I'm sure you're not rushing to tell us which 90s wankers have had your dirty sauce on their rich tea biscuits. Fuckin' hell.' In spite of his irritation, he found himself giving a bit of a tug and a rearrange to his crotch.
`Fair,' Redknapp agreed.
`It was just one of those things,' mumbled Ox, next to him.
Andy reached over supportively and put an arm around the big guy's broad shoulder muscles, and nodded at Jamie. Aye,' he agreed, just one of those things. You're a funny one, coming in here and asking us shit like this. What's it to you, anyway? We've got shit to get on with, pal.'
Jamie just sat there with one of those lingering smirks that infuriated Andy, then laid one hand casually on the inside of a thick thigh, and reached up to take his bulge in hand. Alex looked shocked, but Andy just scoffed, and pulled his hand away from where it had been unconsciously fondling the front of his trackies. The atmosphere in the small press room was suddenly incredibly tense.
Don't stop fiddling with yourself on my account, Andrew,' Redknapp said smoothly. What about you, Alex? Are you feeling horny too...?'
Andy looked at his mate, and saw Ox looking pretty baffled. I wasn't fiddling with myself,' Robertson protested weakly. Oh, fuck this...' He got up to his feet, pushing his chair back, looking between Alex's perplexed expression and Jamie's smug sprawl, and then down... at the shape of his semi flopping into position in the front of his red Liverpool trackies. Shit.
`Come here,' Jamie said softly, and Andy obeyed in spite of himself. He steppd about the side of the table, looking suspiciously down at the smartly dressed senior, and watched as a tanned hand reached out and gently stroked the front of his tracksuit bottoms. He heard Alex shoot up to his feet in shock, and lean forward as if about to jump in and protect him from the groping of this older bloke. But Andy stood his ground, and looked between his swelling bulge and Jamie's curious expression, as the stroking carried on.
`What the fuck, guys?' Alex asked sharply, and then he intervened. He shoved Andy back a bit roughly, and stood between him and Jamie, protectively, his muscles bulging as he squared up for a fight that nobody else wanted. Because then Jamie was touching him, reaching between his legs to the framed droop of his privates. Andy watched intently, and bit his lip. Fuck, this was getting intense...
Just come here, Andy,' Jamie said, and Robertson did as he was told. Now both of the Anfield players were stood over seated Redknapp, and both of them were being gently, exploratively fondled, Jamie cupping their packages through the red nylon, and grinning up at their anxious expressions like this was the most natural development for a quick interview to have taken. Well lads, are you gonna get them out, or am I?'
Andy and Alex looked at each other. Ox looked anxious and younger than his 26 years. Rough and ready Andy felt less intimidated. He was horned up now and he needed to do something about it, after all. He gave Alex what he hoped was an assertive, encouraging nod, and began getting his meat out. Jamie stood slowly to face them, and started to join in, undoing the front of his suit trousers. Andy tugged his trackies down over his hips a bit, then pulled his dick out of his fresh white briefs, and took it in hands. Sure, it wasn't the longest nob, he'd compared it to the other four that day during the biscuit game, but it was thick and shapely and he knew how to use it. He glanced over as Alex joined him, and once more felt a pang of admiration at just how well-equipped Oxlade-Chamberlain really was down there.
`Nice,' Jamie remarked openly. His trousers were open and the bottom buttons of his shirt undone, and he was stroking a long, slim prick with a distinctly red tip. He was fully hard already. Shit, what were they playing at here? Did the door to this room even lock? All three men looked furtively from one to the other, eyes meeting for precious awkward seconds, as they silently stroked their tools and contemplated their sex drives.
You seemed to enjoy touching us up,' Andy grunted assertively. You sure you never deliberately lost a game of soggy biscuit, you old queen...?'
Jamie scoffed. Someone had to get this started, right?' he said evasively. We're all in the mood. Right... Alex, you cum-gobbler... come and give us a nosh, will you?'
Andy started at this, and grabbed for his mate's sleeve, about to tell him to ignore this smug prick, but suddenly Ox was darting forward, and sliding down onto his knees. Andy tugged on his dick even as he gasped his surprise, his bulky mate settling down in kneeling position between the two of them, pulling close to the throbbing red-tipped member between Jamie's legs. Jamie looked at him, over Alex's head, and smirked victoriously. This old cunt was on a right power trip here...
`That's it, Oxlade...'
Andy watched in fascinated horror as Alex's head dipped forward against the older man's hard-on, then looked up at Jamie's slow groan of appreciation. He felt a mix of surprise at his friend, annoyance at the outsider, and undeniable excitement in his own twitching prick. All three sensations blurred as one thing: jealousy. He wanted Ox on HIS nob... Jesus, where had THAT come from?
He stepped forward, pushing the chair aside, and sidled up to Jamie as if they were good mates, slapping a hand to the back of his shirt, feeling the older guy's impressively firm physique through it, and looked down to crotch height, where Alex's thick lips were trailing up and down the first few inches of Jamie's schlong... shit. Why did Ox look so sexy on his knees and with his lips trembling and his eyes big and approval-seeking? Andy took his own cock in his right hand, elbowed Jamie aside a bit with his left arm, and thrust himself into Alex's face. One cock was swapped for another, Alex's eyes looked conflicted, and now his lips were on some prime Scottish meat instead.
Andy gave Jamie a territorial glare, then looked down, enjoying the sight of Alex's lips on his own smaller but rigid prick, wow they felt so good... his own missus hardly ever went down on him any more, so any blowjob was amazing right now... but god Alex's mouth just felt so tender and warm on his quivering stiffy, so...
And then Jamie was taking hold of his back, and he thought he was gonna be pushed aside in the same petty squabble, the two guys fighting for Alex's hungry inexperienced mouth... But no. Jamie was hugging an arm about his own shaky shoulders and laughing cheerily, staring down at the slowly progressing blowjob, reaching a hand to ruffle Alex's tight curls... And then his other hand, creeping excitingly down Andy's own back, until it rested at the hem of his sweater, above the exposed top of his crack. Andy was having trouble thinking about much else but the amazing soft motion of lips and tongue on his cock, so he just stood there overwhelmed while he felt Jamie's creeping fingers rub the tops of his buttocks and tickle at the topmost entrance to his arse-crack.
`That's it, lads,' Redknapp groaned into his ear, encouraging and sleazy. Andy felt like he could cum there and then, but he tried to suppress it and enjoy the moments. Oh boy. Alex was lapping his big tongue over the head of his cock and then taking inches of it back into his hot wet mouth. His eyes were still puppy-dog adorable, desperate for Andy's enjoyment.
Andy suddenly tensed in surprise, feeling the rear of his trackies tugged down more fully, and... whoa! A saliva-wet finger slid right between his full, downy cheeks. Jamie was trying to finger him. Shit! He stood awkwardly, feeling kinda trapped between the unreal pleasure of big Alex on his knees, and the sinister invasion of this slimy fella groping his backside, but... well, it felt pretty new and exciting. He stood in turmoil, torn between wanting to lose control and fuck Alex in the mouth, and spin round and smack Jamie Redknapp in the jaw. In fact, he did neither: he stood there, tensed up, and groaning loud ecstasy at the contrasting sensations of a blowjob and a questing finger finding his tight hairy hole.
Come on,' grunted Redknapp. Alex here wants your load, Scotty.'
Ox lapped at his cock and pulled away for a moment, lips quivering. `I do, buddy,' he muttered shamefacedly.
Andy, full of affection for the gentle hunk, reached down and stroked his cheek. It's okay, pal,' he grunted quietly, you're... you're good at this...'
The encouragement was enough and Alex closed his eyes and attacked, lips pulled tightly over Andy's Glasgow sausage. At the same moment, he felt Jamie's fingertip pressing into his hole, and he yelped out in surprised pleasure... This was too much. Andy blew his load. He tried to keep his moans stifled, thrusting the back of a hand against his mouth and biting down on his own flesh, staring down at Alex's beautiful caramel freckles, spewing his cum into the guy's mouth. Moments later, Alex was pulling back, tongue lolling, and white liquid dribbled off it and his lips... holy shit, to think this wasn't even the first time he'd had Andy's load in his mouth. But THIS time, it was only his. Not mingled with Hendo's or Lallana's or big Alisson's, just HIS...
The finger on his hole was pulled away. Instead, he felt Jamie's hand calmly stroke the back of his hot, flushed neck, and then press down ever so softly on one of his shoulders. Before he knew it, Andy was sinking forwards, relaxing his legs, sliding onto his knees right beside Alex, staring into his pal's wide eyes, watching a glob of his own seed drip from his full bottom lip.
`Now you get a real treat, lads,' came Jamie's voice. Redknapp was tossing his cock off at face height, right between their heads. Andy met Alex's gaze, swallowed dryly, and submitted to the moment. Fair was fair, he guessed. He was high on his own orgasm as turned about a bit, so he and Ox were side by side, on their knees, staring up at the ruffled fabric of Jamie's shirt, and the man's reddening handsome face, his disturbed slick of hair, his speckled greying stubble... and much closer to their faces, his shaking member, pulled on rapidly, and now cumming powerfully. Andy shut his eyes to stop getting too messy, but felt spunk hit his nose and cheek and lips, and... with a curious that he realised had been building ever since he watched Alex eat the biscuit, he lapped his tongue across his chapped lips, and tasted Jamie's salty load.
When he opened his eyes, Alex was leaning past him and licking at the sticky tip of that long thin cock. Andy gasped his shock, though how shocking anything could be after he'd just cum in his friend's mouth with a man's finger in his hole... Well, this had escalated quickly.
But he was loyal and fair. There was one guy here not getting much attention. He squatted there on his knees, feeling Jamie's cum cooling on his own gingery stubble, his own cock still lying bare between his legs, staining his trackies with spunk. Then he hunkered down further, sprawling to the floor, and braving what he'd seen Alex do. He pulled up on Ox's sweater a bit, baring the bottom rung of thos ridiculous abs, and then started pushing down on the red nylon to get into his mate's trackies... Above, he heard Jamie groaning and laughing, and Alex just slurping greedily.
Andy's mouth found the rock hard thick shaft of Ox's cock. His throat felt dry and he was gripped with nervous energy. He rubbed his dry lips against it, feeling it twitch, and hearing Alex's surprised groan overhead. Then he pushed his tongue out and ran it uncertainly down the veiny length, and then back up. Then he parted his lips and squeezed his eyes shut again, and tried it, taking what he could into his inexperienced gob.
`Go for it, Scotty, you twat...'
`Oh, Andy, buddy...'
Robertson ignored both voices, reaching to grip on Alex's big thighs, and sliding his knees against the laminate floor, burying his face into the fresh manly smell of that dark crotch, taking inch after inch of Ox's thick prick into his mouth... letting his tongue massage the underside of that girthy shaft. He tightened his lips on the cock and pulled back, then bobbed forward, then back, then...
`Oh Andy, I'm going to cum...'
`Yeah, eat his spunk, you fuckin' scally lad...'
And then Andy felt it. Hot and wet on his tongue and the roof his mouth. Was it just psychological, or did his mate's spunk taste much much sweeter than Jamie's droplets of semen? Did all guys have their own flavour? Andy savoured it and very slowly dragged his lips up and off the throbbing nob, catching his breath and tasting his teammate against his palate.
Yes, you fucking bitches,' grunted Jamie. He was still playing with his shrinking prick, huffing and puffing in recovery from his climax, propped against the end of the table. He let out a really surreal laugh, and patted them both on the head as they began clambering up from their knees. You fucking Liverpool bitches,' breathed the older man. `I knew I could have you both. Fuckin' hell. That was easy.'
With a smug grin, he was pushing his cock into his underwear and re-buttoning his shirt, as Andy and Alex both backed off, wiping their mouths and staring from each other to him. Andy felt for a second like fleeing the room, but what would he look like, dick and buttocks out, face greasy with cum, running through the corridors of Anfield? He reached for a chair to steady himself, and watched Ox hurriedly pulling his trackies up and wiping his damp chin.
Well, that's all I needed here,' Jamie was saying in a weirdly casual manner. Good to know what really goes on in Liverpool these days... Nothing has changed after all. Good lads.' The Sky Sports presenter was tugging on his blazer, adjusting his collar, tidying his hair, and then backing away from them towards the door. Hurriedly, Andy tugged his pants up over his cock and arse, still panting a bit. Jamie flashed them both a slick, Sky TV smile, and departed, letting the door slam behind him. Andy and Alex stared immediately at each other.
Oxlade-Chamberlain looked borderline traumatised. His eyes were wide as if he'd been on drugs, and he was waving his hands about as if he didn't know where to put them. He looked like he might cry. Andy had seen that panic in him before, the moment he lost the biscuit game, and in the minutes after he had finished chewing up their product. Poor guy. But he had been a slut for them, in this intense bout. Andy had enough questions and doubts about his own behaviour, but he lunged forward and took Alex in his arms.
Hey, mate,' he hissed at him, it's okay... It's okay, buddy.' He planted his lips against Alex's forehead in a simple kiss, then looked him in the eyes. `We're good, aren't we?'
`What the hell did we do?' Alex asked him intensely.
We... got a bit wild,' Andy grunted. But... Fuck it. We can do what we want. That smug prick thinks he got one over us, but...' Andy forced out a ragged laugh. `You give great head, mate.'
`Er... do I...?'
The best, buddy...' Andy fought back his own panic, and squeezed his arm about Alex's big muscular shoulders in a tight hug. Thank you.'
`I... I... can't believe we both...'
We're good,' Andy repeated. He squeezed again, and let go. It was fun. Let's get the fuck out of here before that twat wants another... interview.' He patted both of Alex's biceps, shook himself, and thought of his girlfriend. This was just a ridiculous episode, no threat to her or their relationship, nothing serious... Just another game. That's all. Come on,' he told Alex in the calmest voice he could muster. I'll give you a lift home, pal.'
Alex nodded weakly. Thanks, Andy...' He rubbed at his face with his strong hands, and licked his lips a bit. Andy, mate,' he murmured.
`What?' Andy asked sharply, feeling like this conversation really needed to end now.
Just...' Alex looked briefly conflicted. You tasted so much better than he did, you know.'
Andy let out a weird giggle, shook himself, and nodded. `I thought the same about you, buddy. Much better.' Their eyes met, intensely, and they hovered intimately. Andy looked at those plump pouting lips that had felt so good on his dick. There were inches of space between their flushed faces. The force pulling his face forward into Ox's felt like gravity. He didn't bother resisting it. He let his lips graze Alex's, gently, at first, and then in a short, wet kiss, then pulling away. They stared each other out, breathed slowly, and parted.
Game over.
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