Part 323: J & K
The lights of the Doha hotel were a relief through the partly steamed windows of the coach; though it was only day 2 of the international break, and the men crammed onto the vehicle were still outwardly buzzing with the renewed camaraderie and crackling expectant energy of the World Cup ahead, they were nonetheless tired out. An excitable first day at St George's Park and sleepless night had turned to yet more press work and then the journey here into the Middle East. The coach's air-con seemed to be out of action, and their journey from the airport had been accompanied by the same muggy night warmth that had hit every man on his way out of the sliding doors of the terminal. Now the two coaches of England players and staff were an adult version of over tired toddlers, bristling with noise and energy but well past their sensible bedtime.
Kyle Walker embodied this frazzled spirit, both stifling a wide yawn and pumping a fist into the air as he ambled off the coach amid the others, grinning eagerly and eyeing up the hotel complex ahead of them, basecamp for now.
Around him, a couple of others were being especially loud and over-enthusiastic, Grealish and Foden both earning scolding looks from the gaffer for their schoolboy giggles, and a sensible Rice trying to subdue the hoots of chatty laughter between Mount and Gallagher; Walker read the boss's mood and realised that Southgate was paranoid about them making a bad first impression on their Doha hosts, boorish Englishmen abroad. With a sleepy smile and lugging his case along, Kyle reached across and thumped Jack Grealish on the arm: `Oi, chill out and get into sleepy mode, nob-head.' He turned and winked at the blinking face of his own travel buddy, fondly amused by the sleepy stagger and jerkiness of John Stones as he disembarked the coach.
Inside, the greeting was a bit much, bouquets and boxed gifts and too many attractive smiling women. Cups of sweet tea were being served but Kyle swerved this, if the general mood was to wind down for the night, and muscled his way to the front of the huddle at the counter where one of Southgate's assistants was dishing out envelopes of room keys and murmuring instructions about their early start for breakfast and yoga.
Walker leant one muscular arm of his England hoody against the marble counter and waited his turn, rubbing his other hand against increasingly itchy eyes and wishing for the inevitable luxury of the beds here. Next to him, Arsenal's Ben White and Bukayo Saka seemed to be bickering over a lucky number on an assigned room key, and James Maddison was grilling the assistant manager about wifi details already; with another yawn, Kyle nudged and elbowed at the younger lads and nodded impatiently at the coach. `Me and Stonesy, aye?' the 32-year-old Sheffield bloke asked with a tone of strained politeness.
A look of mild sympathy passed between the squad's senior defender and the travel-weary assistant manager, all of them a bit irritable after being squashed into so many subsequent modes of transport - an envelope with `J & K' on the front was passed into Kyle's waiting hand and he pushed away from the others, patting White and Maddison patronisingly on the heads as if he was an older relative, before sliding through the mass of tracksuits to link up with his usual Man City and England roomie.
Southgate was in the middle of trying to impart some motivational words and practical details to the dispersing mob of footy lads, whilst also fending off more attention and pomp from a guy who was presumably the hotel manager, desperate to welcome them to Doha; Walker nudged at Stones and then guided him by the elbow, moving swiftly towards the open door of a lift. Before the gaffer could even dismiss his crew and demand a curfew, the two City defenders were already in the elevator with their cases and travel-bags and shooting a few floor upwards through the low-rise conversion that formed their attractive hotel base.
Kyle, grinning wearily, slung one bag about his shoulder and dragged the main case heavily with one hand, freeing up his other to reach down and give a good slap and feel to the meaty rump of his man, mindless of the public corridor before they reached their actual suite; John made a jokey little yelp as one of his strong glutes was given a firm grab through the warm cotton of his sweatpants, but then turned a warning glance this way. `Need to be a bit more careful around these parts, don't ya think?' the 28-year-old centre-back muttered, though his cautious voice held the crackle of excitement at Kyle's hand still rubbing at his arse.
Walker just shrugged. `I don't see why,' he said, although he did, and he gave his boyfriend's bottom another pat before muscling competitively ahead and turning the corridor walk into a clumsy race, cases bashing into each other and laughing voices following them down the ornately decorated passage as other pairs of players exited the lift or emerged from a stairwell. But J & K quickly left that noise behind, because they'd reached the door to their suite and Kyle had let them in, holding the door open with the toes of a trainer so that John could scuttle in past them and coo appreciatively at the spacious and cool interior of their shared room.
Nice,' Stonesy declared ineloquently from the middle of the room, whilst Walker took hold of both of their heavy cases and hoisted them onto the tops of some drawers along one wall, then tossed his smaller bag onto the foot of one bed and immediately began peeling off his hoody and t-shirt to feel the cool air-con against the clammy muscles of his torso and arms. He nodded assertively. Nice,' he agreed simply, and then made a beeline for John himself, disinterested in interior design or the swish gadgets of the Arab hotel.
He hooked his arms about John's waist and cuddled in against the taller lad, feeling his dull body heat and hard muscle, and sighing contentedly into the material of his new England t-shirt, which already smelt deliciously of his sweat and aftershave. Stones leaned comfortably back into this to allow him the cuddle, relaxing against his bulky strength, and saying nothing but just sighing too, relieved to be here - both in the immediate sense of a journey ended, and in the wider sense of World Cup selection. Both of them had experienced their lows and scares since the last one, and were grateful to be part of Southgate's vision for Qatar.
`Right then, let me settle in,' chuckled the younger City player with jovial annoyance, pulling away from him and beginning to kick off his trainers. Kyle chuckled too, but experiencing one of those regular moments of realisation at just how sentimental and lovesick he really was, accepting that he was viewing this tournament as an exotic holiday with his beau as much as a late milestone in his professional career.
Shirtless, the 32-year-old moved lightly about their room, paying limited attention to its features, and the bright view of the city's bigger skyscrapers glittering above the Gulf; he set about vanishing this view, rolling down shutters that would screen their room from the balcony outside, one which looked communal. He turned around and smiled lovingly at the sight of John flopping down into a chair and attacking the wall-mounted TV via its remote, face full of boyish joy as he skimmed through channels of meaningless Arabic until he was on some international dump channel of ancient British sitcoms.
Nah,' Walker chuckled, none of that shit. I'm yer entertainment tonight, Barnsley.'
He approached the chair between the beds, pushing one hand down the front of his own sweatpants and grabbing his cock in his boxer briefs, swaggering close to the seated posture of the bigger guy; John shot him a sheepish grin and rolled his eyes, but spread his legs open and began rolling his t-shirt up his six-pack and chest, exposing his strong pale muscles as Kyle drew even closer. `Yes, boss,' the other defender sniggered, and Kyle leaned in low whilst grabbing and pushing up at his face, until they were sharing a long wet kiss that he'd been thinking about all through the slow warm coach journey.
John Stones had longed for that kiss all the way through their flight from Heathrow to Doha, seated in one of the luxury booths with his Kyle, and flinching frustratedly whenever the other player reached over to give his shoulder a playful squeeze, or tickled at the short curly hairs on his neck, or winked at him and started pulling at the waist of his pants beneath the airline blanket - frustrated only because of the fact he wanted to play properly, but had to behave himself on the plane journey that was taking them to the World Cup, and a sphere of infamous homophobia that was already making the 6ft2 Barnsley lad sweat nervously.
Luckily, a little bit of cheeky fun earlier in Day 2 had enabled Stones to show some reserve and shrug away Walker's jokes on the flight, and settle into a classic film instead, one he managed to sleep through the second half of.
He'd meant to be a lot more cautious and well-behaved on this England camp, had thought long and hard about the need to be sensible and focused, and yet had found himself getting naughty as soon as the first opportunity leaned his way. But he was a strapping Yorkshire lad, bursting with testosterone, and he was as excited as anyone else here to be representing their country for the next month and a half.
It had been more of a morning kickabout than an official training session, a chance for the Three Lions men to start bonding over a ball and a goal rather than just fist-bumps, selfies, and being made to pose with Royalty. Still, it had got him sweaty enough to want a shower before the next round of photo-shoot press attention, and he'd been one of only a few guys to lope into the shower blocks of the now-familiar training complex, peeling out-of-date England garms away from his skin and stripping down to just his stripy underpants and bunched Puma sports socks.
The 6ft2 England stud found himself right next to another of Manchester City's call-ups, and he turned and grinned goofily at the other well-built lad, slapping at his bare back unselfconsciously and then making a joking pantomime of glancing down and reacting in shock at the bulge in his grey briefs. The other guy burst into slightly embarrassed laughter at this and shoved him away with the roughness of familiar horseplay before shaking his head and questioning, `What's wrong with you, big Stonesy, eh?'
He and Kalvin Phillips had grown closer pals this past month or so, especially if Walker injured and away from much of the training and League games; Phillips was another Yorkshire son in the City ranks and someone who Stones had quickly taken to, but only properly befriended in the weeks running up to their mutual World Cup summons. By the time Premiership training had closed for the break, John was cheekily wrestling with the 26-year-old in the City gym and spanking him in his shorts when he wasn't running fast enough in cardio drills - that and a few meals out with their respective women, gradually welcoming the Leeds traitor into the City circle and trying to overcome his slow start to life at a bigger club.
But now here they were, pumped up with eagerness for the tournament, and side by side in their undies with apparently nobody else about, and John's platonic limits were breached. He couldn't help but grin meaningfully at the 5ft10 lad and entertain a naughty thought, and broad-built Kal seemed to catch his expression and frown quizzically back at him, hesitating in the act of sliding down said briefs and reaching for a towel. What?' Phillips demanded, after a pause. Stones just laughed and shrugged big bare shoulders. Nowt, lad,' he tittered, shoving his own striped pants down about his decorated thigh and then hopping out of them, letting his long low cock and balls swing free from his stubbly pubes as he did.
This time it was Kalvin's eyes that swerved in the wrong direction, but it was hardly his fault: John really was very well-endowed, and he'd moved with such bouncy vigour that his equipment was swinging from side to side. He gave a low dirty laugh and prodded Kal in one of his sturdy tan pecs. Caught you lookin', pervert,' he chided, and the Leeds lad immediately began blurting out protest and denial, probably quite sincere, to which John could only laugh more and cup his privates in one large hand. I don't mind who looks at it, for fuck's sake,' he concluded in a quietly friendly voice, `I've nothing to hide, have I?'
`But I wasn't,' Kalvin grunted, sounding unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. With that, he let loose his own grey pants, and now John quite openly stared down at the Phillips equipment, as if he hadn't clocked it before in the communal showers of the City training ground many a time this season.
John wasn't quite sure how it went from looking to touching, but it somehow did, before either of them had even moved from lockers to showers; one moment they were making playful jibes at each other about the size of Yorkshire and its sons, and the next he was idly cupping a hand below the fat hairy balls and gently curved sausage. It was bold and silly and could certainly have backfired. But the 26-year-old was glowering uncertainly at him and holding his breath, rather than punching him in the throat and yelling for the gaffer. Stones grinned and left his hand there, and stared expectantly at the other lad.
`Nice one there, pal,' he said, his big goofy smile turning to a more serious and seductive look, one usually only seen by his fiance and his boyfriend.
Kalvin let out a long hissing breath, pushing one hand against the lockers to support his thick body, and staring down between their bare bodies, and then over his shoulder, and then around John's side, clearly checking how they were alone. John smiled. If witnesses were the Leeds fella's most immediate concern, then he was open to this. He gave the limp cock a gentle stroke and the slightest jiggle of those weighty balls, then he rubbed his palm against the bottom rungs of his six-pack instead. `Shower?' he muttered, managing to make the simple and obvious suggestion sound far more loaded.
They weren't quite the only ones in here or the showers, a few other voices echoing faintly, but the showers of this building were split into a series of smaller alcoves, and once their two athletic bodies were wet and soapy in the end one of these, John touched him again. The men stood side by side and John played with both of their cocks at once, his touch as light and slow as he could let it be, not normally a man for subtlety. Shit,' hissed Kalvin, we shouldn't be doing this, pal.' John just made a goofy laugh at this, disarming, and kept pulling on the thickening piece of his new friend.
Stones didn't push it too far, and since Phillips was lost in taboo, he took over the job of furtive glances over his shoulder to check nobody was watching... though he got a lot less worried about this as his pace sped up and he began to wank them both properly, soap suds lubing both hands and the muscles in his arm and chest flexing repeatedly as he went for it. One of Kalvin's strong arms was pushed into the plasticky texture of the wall, leaning forward slightly, his eyes closed and water gushing against the careful up-do of his locs. His chest heaved and his thick cock throbbed in John's grip.
Stones shot his load without hardly realising it, enthralled by watching the other lad's red-faced orgasm when it happened, brought about entirely by his speedy hand jerking back and forth on his fat Leeds prick. First Kalvin and then himself spurted thick Yorkshire cream into the swirling water at their feet, all of it disappearing through drain grates, wiping away the man-on-man sin of a little playtime.
After, Kalvin pressed both hands to the wall and just stood there, dripping and breathless, and muttering Shit mate' a few times. John slapped and rubbed him on the back and told him to relax, sniggering confidentially and demanding, Didn't they ever have any fun at Elland Road, for fuck's sake?' When Kal glanced his way, he winked and squeezed at his shoulder. `Relax, just a little treat before the Cup, matey, nothing to worry about, yeah?' He scrubbed his hands beneath the shower and swayed beneath the spray, enjoying the lingering buzz in his balls as his cock lounged against the inside of one thigh. Kalvin nodded uncertainly, a worried look in his wide eyes, and then he snatched his towel and went away to dry and dress, and John sighed contentedly to himself.
For Kyle, it had been at the airport itself; he was a man with heavy and urgent needs.
There was only a slight delay at the Heathrow end of the journey, but enough to cause mild chaos in the usually well-oiled machine of the England camp, and the lads were kicking about in a private departure lounge, annoying each other with bursts of singsong or by bragging competitively about their recent form in the Prem.
He genuinely went to the toilet for a piss, but he lingered there out of slight boredom, just wanting to be in the midst of the tournament now, rather than the prep and waiting that would greet them in the Middle Eastern heat. He was fussing vaguely at his reflection in a mirror when the younger player joined him, shuffling in with his eyes glued to his phone-screen as usual, and hardly noticing Walker until they were right next to each other and the younger footballer was heading for the urinals. He glanced up and his surprise was evident on his owlish face, but Kyle just smirked across at the youth.
`Alright there, Dirty Sanchez,' he murmured warmly.
The 22-year-old Londoner flashed him a tight grin and nodded. `Hey bro,' Jadon Sancho told him before slipping past and continuing to the urinals, where he took up the leftmost bowl and pushed down on his already sagging sweats, which showed most of the arse of his brightly coloured CKs. Kyle paused thoughtfully before giving in to temptation, returning to the middle urinal as if he still needed to piss, but just flopping his cock out limply and looking over the thin barrier at Jadon's noisy yellow stream.
Kyle said nothing whilst the rival Manchester player emptied his bladder, though he could feel the tension of Jadon's awareness as they stood side by side, dicks out in their hands, and significant memories floating up for both of them. With a lazy hand, the 32-year-old began to play with his own chubby cock, which was very rapidly rising to the moment, and he looked up and down from Jadon's stubby brown prick to his nervous goateed face, then let out a low dirty laugh. Don't be shy, take a look,' Kyle muttered, and the young Londoner immediately did so, leaning slightly this way and taking a long stare at it before jerking away and letting out a huffy breath. It won't bite,' the City right-back chuckled.
Fuck,' muttered Jadon. Stop being a bell-end.'
I'm just playin',' Kyle sighed. Unless you really want it.'
`Mate,' huffed the Man Utd youngster and former Bundesliga prodigy.
`How's that tight little hole of yours?' Walker asked boldly, semi-consciously licking his lips.
`Mate,' Jadon said again, not looking this way, but not leaving the urinal even though he'd clearly finished his business. Kyle looked his way and brought one hand up to stroke his strong stubbled chin, then licked provocatively at a single finger, and nodded towards the row of roomy cubicles on the other side of the airport bathroom. Jadon hesitated but as soon as he started moving, cock still out and resting over the elastic of his waistband, the younger lad followed him in.
In the cubicle, Kyle had him up against the cistern, clutching at the top of it with his t-shirt rolled halfway up his back, and his bright red CKs down at his ankles with his Three Lions sweatpants; Kyle had one finger inserted into his twitching ring, frigging him in rapid little pokes, sniggering as he did it and enjoying Jadon's frantic breaths and moaned We should stop' and Shit, that feels...' Kyle was pleasantly surprised when he put a second finger and the younger player coped with it, spreading his legs a little and bending more. Still, when he began muttering You want daddy's cock?' and You ready for more, you little United slut?', he was quite shocked when his Manchester rival nodded fervently and began to beg for it. Please,' Sancho whispered to him. Please fuck me... sir.'
The submissive tone and respectful term made Kyle's cock leak pre-cum and he wasted no time. He'd really only meant to tease the London rudeboy, hardly expecting to get as far as fingering his arsehole in the public bathroom; now he was spitting heavily on the veiny shaft of his own tool and rubbing the head between Jadon's pert smooth cheeks. Someone else must have de-flowered the nervy fucker, he concluded, remembering just how anxious and conflicted the otherwise cocky forward had been when Kyle toyed with him a couple of times before, experimenting with a finger and a tongue on his ringpiece.
Now he fucked him hard but quiet in the toilet cubicle, finding it hard to push his thick dick into the tight young arse, and holding a hand over Jadon's mouth when he squealed out in pleasure. He struggled to hold in his own yowls of delight, feeling those tight muscles around him. It didn't last long, it couldn't really, but it was intense and brilliant. A quick quiet fuck over the toilet, wondering if Jadon maybe was still a virgin after all; the Camberwell kid came in mere minutes, his load splattering into the bowl of the toilet, and Kyle felt unfair trying to fuck him after that. He withdrew his cock and wanked it over that arse instead, slapping it against both cheeks and eventually spunking over them and the base of the lad's spine, icing his rump with a fine salty drizzle. Kyle's gasps of breath became hypocritically loud at that point and any fella entering the bathroom would have heard it.
In a moment of top tenderness, Walker yanked a handful of toilet roll and used it to clean the cum off the young bloke's arse and back, sniggering as he did and then giving one cheek a good smack before pushing his privates away and unlocking the cubicle. `Beautiful hole,' was all he slurred smugly at his brief playmate before they parted, washing their hands in silence and leaving the bathroom a careful minute apart.
And now the two of them sniggered and chortled over their separate adventures: there were no real secrets between J & K, not at this stage, and neither of the City defenders had felt any need for discretion or deception over their horny antics in the first stage of their World Cup journey. Kyle spent minutes now giving John a good description of just how tight and quivering the younger player's bottom had felt in front of him, whilst John speculated lazily at whether their new teammate at City would be open to anything more devious than a helping hand under the showers, as they groped at each other in bed and built up to some more serious action of their own.
Beside them, the TV played on, having been shifted to a music channel, but the low-volume dance beats were ignored by the men in the bed, as sweatpants and sweaty underpants were kicked aside, and socks tossed against the wall. Spotless white sheets folded and rumpled beneath the grinding of two strong bodies, Kyle and John locking lips and grasping greedily at the thick limbs and torsos of each other's body, a playful contest for some dominance. Cocks got harder and harder, rubbed together as they flipped positions, climbing atop the other only to be pushed back and pinned down.
John was happy to lazily take his time, in no rush to climax, just enjoying the taste and smell of his burly man against him, and even pretty whimsical and unbothered about whether they took it any further than this frotting. Well, mainly unbothered: when one of his hands found Kyle's big round arse and gave it a good rub and pinch, he knew that he really wanted to bury himself in that furry crack between them.
Kissing and biting at Kyle's neck and shoulder, he pushed the other man face-down into the bed and slid atop him, making his intentions clear, and for once Walker didn't resist or make a fuss, as he often did when sober, but instead just relaxed beneath him and sighed `Fuck yes, mate', whilst John massaged at his shoulders for a bit and began to knead those strong fingers down either side of his spine. Stones took a big buttock in each hand and rubbed them in circles, spreading them and spitting into the hairy furrow between, enjoying Walker's deep sigh, then lying down atop of him, still taking it slow - holding and cuddling him from above and letting his hard-on just rub aimlessly up and down the crack for a while, working up to anything more serious.
Fuckkkk,' Kyle began to moan impatiently, just put it in me, man...!'
John sniggered at this and teased him deliberately in spite of his own lust, pressing him down by the upper arms and lifting his own hips so that his hard cock draped between those cheeks and hung against his crack, the head rolling over the hole but never anything more. Their strong bodies both shook against the bed with laughter and they twisted their faces to an angle where they could kiss, and then mid-snog, John did push his long stiff member down and find the knotty entrance to Kyle, still always grateful to push inside this brash muscular alpha, who usually preferred to be the giver. Nobody else would ever be able to fuck this hole, John thought eagerly, and he relished that ideas as he thrust downwards, fucking Kyle into the bed with wet slaps and letting their rugged manly breathing mingle rhythmically.
Stones got quicker and then slowed again, partly to prolong the pleasure, and partly because he really was just tired, they both were; he slid to one side and it became a real lazy humping, hugging sideways at Kyle's thickly muscled body and pressing his cock into him in long slow strokes, loving the feel of those huge cheeks as he did. Love you,' he panted in his ear. Love you, you big bastard.'
Ugh, don't ruin it,' joked Kyle stupidly to him, just talk dirty and make me your bitch, haha!'
Fucking cunt,' rallied John, fucking him a bit harder, and nipping at his ear. I love you, you daft bitch, I fucking LOVE YOU, okay... mmm...' As if to prove his point, he thrust a bit harder and found himself getting really close, and before he knew it he was emptying his balls inside that amazing arse, clamping his arms about Kyle's body and pressing him into the bedding as he did it, sweat pooling about his neck and between his pecs. I love you,' he insisted in a breathy moan, and Kyle muttered vulnerably back, I love you too, you big dope, mmm...'
Their bodies parted and Kyle fell on his back. John fought the urge to collapse against him and use his tattooed pecs as a pillow. Instead, he kissed down his abs and took his cock in his mouth to suck him off, loving the taste of it and giving it a slow wet service for the few minutes it took for Walker to jizz on his lips and chin, and then just settling down where he lay, with his head dozing at the other man's waistline, and one of Kyle's sweaty hands stroking and tickling at his hair and his neck, sighing contentedly and repeating his quiet declaration of love. `You're amazing,' the older defender sighed happily, and John smiled to himself, cum drying on his lips and jawline, cuddling down against the other body, and grinning even more when he felt his boyfriend begin to pull the covers over him protectively, and wriggle about until they were properly side by side, settling down for the night - and settling down for the tournament as a whole.
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