Part thirty-three: Playing Away
`Can you believe the abuse I'm getting on here?'
John Stones looked across to his left, taking a break from picking unexcitedly at his dinner of pasta to see the messages in question. Next to him, Kyle Walker laughed gruffly and scrolled down the group chat with his local, Sheffield-based family, who were bombarding him with gifs and abusive banter. Manchester City had just spanked Sheffield United away and there was an air of casual celebration in the hotel refectory as the lads tucked into a late supper.
Stones forced out a chuckle, not really in the mood for it, shoving an elbow loosely at his roommate and neighbour at the dinner table. Well, it's just what you deserve, you traitor,' he said playfully, prodding his fork back at his dinner. Just messing... I get the same shit whenever we play Burnley. Don't worry.'
Ain't worried,' laughed Walker. Just fuckin' surreal, isn't it. Hah.' Seeming to enjoy the conflict being levied at him, the 29-year-old tucked ferociously back into his food. Well, it made sense for him to have the appetite: he'd just had a 90 minute run-around with his usual aggressive energy on the pitch, helping to secure the win. John had spent the night sat not even on the bench, cradling an injured ankle and reading negative rumours about himself online. The internet was abuzz with things their manager had supposedly said about his failure to impress this season.
He cracked a smile and did his best to feel part of the celebratory mood, but it was hard at the minute. It was a team of lauded stars, and he was finding it hard not being one of them. Tonight's 1-0 was a minor achievement in recent weeks, and there was a growing sense that if anyone could topple Liverpool, it might be these guys – but not John Stones. He could tell his reputation was changing from tough central defender to flaky and injury-prone. He'd gotten more attention lately for buying an expensive new car than for his efforts on the training ground. It was all a bit frustrating for the 6'2 Barnsley lad.
Kyle leaned in suddenly, noisily chewing a mouthful of his dinner. `Cheer up lad, it might never happen,' the older defender muttered at him.
`I'm grand,' John told him defensively, and unconvincingly.
Aye, well, tell your face that,' Kyle said, but not harshly. He was still distracted by his phone. Load of my slutty exes hitting me up, too,' he whispered confidentially. `All standard behaviour for a visit back to Sheff, heh.'
Well,' John mumbled back, that's what away games are for, right...' He sniggered weakly.
Kyle slipped him a wink and swiped through a few conversations on his phone. Ain't it just, pal. Ain't it just.' He locked his phone and put it back down on the table. What the missus don't know cannot really hurt here, hehe...'
Stones laughed at this, but with a hollow lack of connection. He wasn't sure he'd be taking any risks if he was all set up like his Sheffield-born teammate, with a beautiful partner and a couple of sweet kids. But each to their own. He'd fucked up a bit in his own love life in the past couple of years, and he still regretted ending things with his childhood sweetheart and the mother of his kid, things now pretty rocky with the woman he'd left her for.
He felt Kyle's hand slide over under the table and give his leg a friendly squeeze. Mate, get a beer or something, you need to chill,' Walker told him in an unusually tender voice. You're too wound up.'
Stones gave him a half-smile. `Easier to say when you're not the one with their career stalling and...'
Oh fuck off, it's a blip,' Kyle told him bluntly. You're playing for one of the biggest clubs in the country and you're an England star. Cheer the fuck up and get us some drinks, eh.' He slapped John on the thigh under the table and picked up his phone again. John sighed. Typical no-worries Kyle Walker, for whom life was apparently made up of just football matches, infidelity and drinking sessions: simples.
But he got up and headed for the bar all the same. Walker was kinda right. He needed to just relax and go with the flow. He had a few medicals booked in this coming week and might be near fitness again if not for the weekend then by February. And the lads were allowed a three-drink limit tonight as a treat for their string of successes. He muscled in next to De Bruyne and Aguero at the bar, and tried to zone into their conversation, tuning in to their slightly broken English. John ordered himself a bottle of beer and lingered, but he realised the pair were comparing some new sponsorship endorsements they had been offered lately by big international brands. Stones hovered for a moment beside the Argentinian and Belgian blokes, then realised they weren't going to pause to include him, and backed off as if he hadn't really noticed they were there, sipping gratefully from his beer and silently cursing the shift in his status.
He intended to weave back through the bar-restaurant area of his milling teammates and colleagues, back to his seat, but when he looked over, Walker at had vanished – probably either on the phone to his mocking family for his treachery to Sheffield, or chirpsing one of his local ex-shags to sort out some seedy hook-up. John scoffed inwardly, sipped his beer again, and circled the room awkwardly, suddenly feeling really out of place. Kyle was rough and teasing but he did seem to understand John's worries, and they had developed a good bond over the years.
Stones,' interrupted a voice, and he half-turned. Facing him was their manager, a frown on his face, and a beer in his own hand. Should you be drinking that beer, Stones?' the handsome 49-year-old Spaniard asked in a quiet but firm drink.
John paused awkwardly, glanced from his own drink to the identical bottle in his gaffer's hand, a little puzzled. `But...'
`I am not supposed to be a working athlete,' Pep Guardiolo said a little curtly.
`But I thought,' began John.
Your teammates just won.' Pep leaned in with a heavy expression. They are not battling for fitness. Hmm?' He gave a meaningful nod. He was a tough guy, Pep, but someone John had always liked and respected. But right now he felt like some naughty schoolkid getting told off, not a professional 25-year-old who'd played for his national side. There was a gratingly patronising look to the Spanish legend's expression now, dark eyes a little narrowed.
`Right,' Stones said limply.
Gently, Pep took the bottle from him, and broke into a smile. `Right,' he agreed.
`Perhaps I'll just get an early night, then,' John murmured, trying not to sound as sulky and petulant as he felt right now. Guardiola barely reacted, so either he had suppressed his mood well, or the manager just wasn't very interested. Hiding a look of dismay, John stepped back and away, and disappeared out of the busy bar area before the ashamed flush rushing up his cheeks could be visible to anyone else.
Upstairs, the lanky Englishman stared himself down in the bathroom mirror, overcome with gloom. This low was out of character for him. He'd always been labelled a cheeky chappy off the pitch, and a tough fighter on it. So where the fuck had that spirit gone? But it was a relief to be up here away from the throng of players, away from the victory he felt no claim on. He scowled at the handsome face in the mirror and backed away from his own reflection into the shared bedroom beyond, not bothering to switch on a light.
He pulled off his Adidas sweatshirt and dumped it at the foot of his double bed, then put one leg up after another to yank down his white socks. Up and off came his pale blue polo shirt, exposing the tight-packed muscle of his torso, and down went the tracksuit bottoms, until Stones was just in his simple black briefs, and climbing into bed for an early night.
He stared moodily up at the ceiling of the hotel room and made silent resolutions in his head: how hard he was going to work in the gym this week, how he would impress Guardiola with his work ethic and his hunger to make the team. After a long span of these silent minutes in the dark, he shifted about restlessly in bed, head to the pillow, and traced his fingers idly up and down his six pack. For a moment, he wondered where Walker had got to: would he even see the older bloke tonight, or would he be sneaking off to get his dick wet somewhere in Sheffield?
The thought of his pal's more frantic sex life gave him an idea on how to cool his mood and encourage a restful sleep, and one hand slid lower against the toned muscle of his tummy to find his package in the briefs. He gave himself a few slow rubs, then just let out a grunt of frustration. Was even his sex drive on a low at the moment? No response from that heavy bulge down there, although he hadn't blown a load in DAYS.
Determined to find some fun in his isolation, he reached inside the warmth of his black briefs, then pushed them down a bit, hooking the elastic beneath his big balls so his cock was out, then gave it a few abortive pulls... fuck's sake. Nothing. No reaction at all. He curled his would-be wanking hand into a fist and smacked it irritably off the mattress by his tattooed thigh, then rested his head back further into the soft pillows. Fuck it.
Although it felt like he had lain there overthinking for endless hours, sleep must eventually have come, because the next thing Stones knew, he was waking up, eyes darting open at the dull thump of the hotel bedroom door being forced shut. And then, in the pitch black of the hotel room, muted giggles and whispered voices, but those drunken whispers that are all hoarse and breathy but without the desired drop in volume.
`Shh, you slammed it...!'
`Sorry, sorry... I'm just bit overexcited babes...'
`Course you are, course you are...'
`Will it be ok with him here?'
`Aye, aye, he'll sleep through owt, that one...'
`Hehe... ok if you're sure...'
John lay there on his back, eyes only half-open, letting his senses find themselves. That was Kyle's voice, and some bird's, but... oh bugger, had he really brought some local tart back here to work on? Walker sure liked to take risks. A lot of the married blokes at City were quite moralistic, and not everyone would be so casually dismissive of the Yorkshireman's attitude to monogamy. John hoped Kyle had been at least careful or discrete getting her up here... He cringed a bit at the wet gasps of the kissing couple but, in spite of this, twisted his head gently against the pillow and squinted into the slowly clarifying shadow until he could just about make out two figures interlocked in the limited space between the room's twin beds.
He should cough or sneeze or fart or do SOMETHING to remind them of his presence, or just fully admit he was awake, surely? But the thought of it felt so awkward and invasive, for some reason. He imagined himself in Walker's position, interrupted at the start of the job, and pictured his own mortification at such a scenario... Although Kyle was pretty fucking shameless! But with every moment that passed, John realised, announcing his alertness would just be more uncomfortable, surely? He could make them out more clearly now – a petite, curvy lass cradled in Kyle's bulging arms, his shaved head leaning down to kiss her roughly. He could just about make out the form of Kyle's hand squeezing at the girl's arse, which was ample and appealing.
John squeezed his eyes shut, then rolled the other way in bed with a squeak of springs and a rustle of fabric. There was another burst of suppressed giggling, and the same clumsy drunk whispers of voice.
`Is he awake??'
`Fuck, no, he's just...'
`What if he...'
`Forget him, baby, forget him...'
`Hmmm, Kyle... that's...'
`That's good is it? Forget that cunt, come on...'
John lay with his back to them as he heard the squeaking of the couple taking to the other bed, more giggles and gasps and wet hungry kissing sounds. It was too late to interrupt now, definitely. This was far too uncomfortably intimate already. He lay on his side, body tensed, and then realised just how jealous he actually was: his briefs were still down at the front, curled under the weight of his bollocks, and his loose cock was beginning to press firmly at the bedding as it rose. Oh right, NOW he could spring an erection, when there was nothing he could do about it!
He listened to each sound with an alertness induced by darkness, boredom and arousal... was that the click of a bra strap or a button fly... that must be the slap of a belt coming off, right... and that groan, was that him or her now, it was hard to tell... The 25-year-old lad lay there, gripped with an erection he couldn't address, and an irritable envy of his ever-confident teammate working his magic on whatever slag he'd summoned here. The thought of turning around to watch hovered at the edge of his mind. Firstly, he dismissed it because it was risky and noisy and he didn't want to embarrass them, and then, secondly, he asked himself why the hell he would even want to see more. But she had looked pretty hot, hadn't she?
He did it as carefully as possible, trying not to make any bed against the cheap fabric of his duvet, or arousing much noise from the loose springs of an over-used hotel bed. In fact, it didn't matter, because the indiscreet pair were making so much noise themselves that they would hardly have noticed as Stones rolled carefully over in a weak pretence of sleep and squinted into the dark.
A big round behind was up in the air about three foot from his bed, and he'd already gingerly squeezed his own boner for a moment or two before he began to doubt his eyes and realise that wasn't HER arse, but... Kyle's. He slowly clocked that it was the firm buttocks of an athlete, hugged by dark navy trackies, gently rising and falling, and he stopped massaging his prick in a moment of secret embarrassment at the mistake. But he shifted his head a bit further up the pillow and let his eyes adjust so he could enjoy a fuller view... Kyle was bent over the edge of the other bed with his arse in the air because he was leaning in forward... and John could slowly make out the parted, lifted forms of the girl's bare legs, ending ridiculously in her high heels that waved up in the air as Walker went down on her. John could make out the outline of that skinhead bobbing about between her legs, and her moans were slowly rising and intensifying. John grabbed himself beneath the covers, thinking about that wet cunt his mate was dining on, and began carefully playing with himself.
The girl's groans came and went, interspersed with cheeky giggles, and some grunted dirty talk from Kyle, his head lifting from her fanny now and then. John bit his lip excitedly and pulled back and forth on the taut skin of his sizeable boner, partly relieved at the return of his sex drive and partly ashamed at the context in which he was exercising it.
And then Kyle's slut, whoever she actually was, let out a much clearer yelp of his name, and the stocky footballer seemed to remember the risk of waking John, and climbed on top of her to silence her with kisses. John watched their writhing indistinct bodies, a tangle of legs facing him, and a brief glimpse of her wet gash. He saw one of Kyle's hand slide down there to please her whilst they kissed, oh fuck yes, this was like the best porn ever... And then the tangled bodies were twisting about in search of a new position and more intense fun, and John caught glimpses of Walker's muscular brown torso, tattoos faint in the darkness, before he realised the risk of their looking his way.
He clamped his eyes shut and slowed the strokes on his nob, listening to the breathy chuckles and wet kisses. Various items of clothing were heard discarded, he felt the tiny rustle of breeze their flight caused as they landed between the beds.
He lay still and let his breathing fall into a loudly sleepy rhythm, but he couldn't take his hand off his cock. He pulled with frustrating gentleness at it, not wanting his hand movements to be visible through the duvet. The girl was making open whines of pleasure that drove him wild, and by the sound of it, Kyle was no longer so worried about silencing her. The noises were irresistible, and John just had to open one eye to see. It took a slow moment for his eye to adjust, but when it did, he was greeted with a dim naked profile of two horizontal bodies... he could see her thigh, a great side view of her flopping heavy tit, and her face contorted in pleasure... Kyle was fingering her again, he could see, lying atop her. The biceps on Walker's arm twitched as he did his work, and his heavy 5'10 frame propped above her, the big curve of his backside silhouetted against pale walls – no wonder John had mistaken it for hers, he concluded, catching sight of the curved booty rising up and down, and forgiving his own error... He realised then that her pleasured face was twisted fully towards him, though her eyes were shut tight, but she could easily see him watching if she opened them, so he shut his eye again and tried to resist pulling on his swollen member, but it was tough.
The next loud groan from the lass in the other bed was unmistakeable in meaning. It was not Walker's big fingers going into her opening now, but his tool. John pressed his face into his pillow to resist seeking visual confirmation of this fact, and just listened to her pitchy gurgles and Kyle's heavy, wolfish grunts. John squeezed fingers against his responsive cock and tried to keep his breathing shallow in fear he would let his own moans out to mingle with theirs.
And now some heavy squeaking from the bed, or a change in the rhythm of its noises – moving bodies, a change of position... John opened one eye and then the next, and he couldn't hold in his excited gasp this time. Kyle was going for it doggy style, and beyond his vague form, the girl was on her hands and knees taking it. John could just about make out the swinging globes of her tits behind her tensed arm. Oh god... His eyes strayed back to the broad, muscled back of Kyle Walker, and his quivering rump as he pounded his extramarital cunt with all his strength. Shit, John thought, that boy has got some power and moves... The pair were making so much noise in their doggy style fuck that Stones could pull happily on his dick and let out his own ragged breaths of horny eagerness as he observed. But the pair were restless, and soon switching positions. He left one eye open for as long as he dared, but they were moving this way, her on her back, great view of those big baps, and Kyle mounting her – for a second, it seemed as if the powerful Yorkshireman might have caught him watching, but no, on they went... John pulled his head back a fraction and squeezed his eyes shut and left his cock alone, no way could he wank now without it being obvious.
And so he lay there perfectly still, listening to the rhythmic grunts, the squeak of the bed, her rising orgasm, once, then twice, then again... John's whole body ached with impotent desire. His cock felt ready to explode. It seemed to go on forever, but it was hard to know in the intense darkness if that was credit to Walker's stamina and appetite, or just the dragging of the midnight minutes. But eventually John had the dubious treat of hearing chunky rough Kyle find his own climax. He groaned deeply, smacked his lips, then let out a dirty snigger of relief. The girl was crying out too, but it was then muffled, as if by Kyle's lips. The groans quietened, and there was just the slapping murmurs of sweaty kissing for the next stretch of agonising minutes.
When dull footsteps indicated the lovers were up and off the bed, John was still lying perfectly still, his long body outstretched and his cock trembling between his strong thighs. He listened awkwardly to the flirty chatter between Kyle and his fling, in genuine whispers now that were hard to really make out. The rustle of clothing, at least one of them dressing, and then steps away to the door. The clicks of a lock, the firm sound of it being shut once more. John was just wondering how long it would take his shagged out teammate to fall asleep now, when he heard Kyle loudly clear his throat and take a few steps back across the small hotel room.
Well,' Walker said in a languid groan, did you enjoy that, pal?'
Stones lay there silently, freaked out. If he just lay here and didn't react, then surely he would be mistaken for fully asleep, and-
Oi,' Kyle said. Asked you a question mate. I saw you peepin', dirty lad!'
John let his eyes slide open, and he stared through the gloom. Kyle was stood between the bed, hands on hips, still totally naked, his pecs rising and falling with his recovering breaths. His face was leering and had a sheen of sweat to it.
`I wasn't peeping, I was just...'
Kyle chuckled at John, and as he laughed, his naked body shook a bit more, and John's eyes were pulled south by the gentle bounce of his privates. His cock was on its way down from full mast, a thick semi that hung glistening from his neatly shaved pubes, wet with his juices or hers, or both. John pulled his eyes away from it and coughed awkwardly, and then picked up the warmth in Kyle's teasing laughs.
Chill, bro,' Walker told him. You better finish yourself off now, though.'
John looked from hulking Kyle to the bedding over him, and the clear tent at its centre, where his rock-hard prick was poking straight upwards. Had it been that obvious all along?! He gripped at it self-consciously and tried to work out if his mate was kidding or not. He supposed he could go to the bathroom, and... But Kyle was taking another step closer down the passage between the beds, still wheezing with a dirty laugh.
Here,' he said, this will help bring you off...' And he knelt down, the musty after-sex smell lifting off his body as he approached the side of John's bed, and shoving a hand in front of his face. It was two of his fingers, still damp with her orgasm, pressed beneath Stones' flared nostrils. `Sniff that buddy, and go on... finish what you started, you dirty bugger...'
John eyed him anxiously but could see he was serious. With his mate so awkwardly close, it felt mad to now grip and pull on his cock, but he'd been lying there in need of it for so long listening to those two fuck, so... He tugged furiously on himself and breathed deeply from the filthy fingers, and let Kyle's rough laugh wash over him. Oh yes...
Go for it, lad,' Walker grunted in surreal encouragement. Aye, sniff it up, go on...'
Kyle pressed the fingers closer, not just at John's nose, but onto his pursed lips, taking his whole chin in hand with a firm grip. John let his lips part in a gasp of pleasure, feeling himself get close to cumming. His eyes met Kyle's and there was an intense moment of connection. He felt the two dirty fingers slide between his lips and he sucked gently on his buddy's digits, and then... oh, here it was... He held in the scream of satisfaction that welled up in him and just sucked gently on Kyle's fingers and blew his load, spattering the underside of the duvet with burst after burst of hot cum until he was spent. The fingers were slowly pulled form his mouth and he felt Kyle's presence drift away from his bedside.
There,' he heard Walker grunt. We pretty much shared her, hah. Well done, dirty lad.'
`Mate,' was all John could gasp back, running his tongue gently over his bottom lip and panting desperately for breath. He could feel his own cum quickly cooling on his tight thigh muscles. He could feel sleep coming back over his spent body, as if this was all just some delirious dream interruption to his sulky night... maybe it was, maybe it wasn't even real...?
Kyle had clambered into bed, and let out a little whistle of breath. `Been a while since I had such an appreciative audience,' he remarked into the darkness.
`I wasn't watching,' John lied quietly.
`Aye. Aye. Whatever you say, kid.'
Long moments of silence.
`You know you're still part of this team, mate,' Kyle said eventually.
`Hmm?'
Even when you're injured, buddy. You're one of us. You helped build this success.' John silently absorbed this reassurance. And if you got sold off to some shit championship side, then... Well. I wouldn't be half as fucking happy here without ya, kid.'
John wanted to express his gratitude for these words but he was exhausted and overwhelmed. Thanks,' he said quietly and vaguely, unable to find the better words he wanted. Thanks, mate...' But there was no further comment, just deep, sleepy breaths from the other bloke, a few feet away in the parallel bed. And soon both blokes were snoring, worn out and satisfied.
*APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY IN NEW STORIES! PEOPLE HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR A VISIT TO THE OTHER SIDE OF MANCHESTER FOR A WHILE, SO HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS PAIRING!