Part 330: Spare Parts
As the Monday training window drew to an early evening close, the 24-year-old felt the familiar dull certainty: the gaffer would almost certainly be playing it `safe', and sticking with his default Number 1 for tomorrow night's Wales clash to decide their qualification for the next round, and Ramsdale and Pope would languish on the bench with any number of other unused substitutes in the large national squad.
The 24-year-old Arsenal player wasn't naive or stupid, and plenty of friends and colleagues had stepped in to temper his hopes for the tournament, but still... to be out here, in Qatar, able to taste the footballing glory on the air, and to not step foot on a pitch... It was a slightly grim prospect, and he imagined how it might feel to fly back to the UK even as World Cup winners, if he and the NUFC goalie hadn't stopped a single shot-on-target, or more exciting and terrifying, knockout penalty. Aaron supposed that there were plenty of support keepers out there who had done just that, ghosts in the background, but it was not a role that his current run at Arsenal was encouraging him to accept.
People liked to knock Jordan Pickford, but the Everton Mackem had been on fire all through today, and though neither Ramsdale or Pope had let themselves down, nor had they done anything to attract the gaffer's attention their way, or to inch ahead of Pickers in the squad selection for Tuesday night; their progression out of the group stages was almost a sure thing already, he thought in a sulky moment, and so surely Gareth Southgate could take a pint on one of them...! But a heavy loss against the Welsh sheep-shaggers could halt the whole campaign, perhaps, and he had to grudgingly accept that the England coach knew what he was doing.
Ahead of him, Nick Pope was ending his shift in goal for the final shooting practice of the evening, and the youngest of the squad's three goalies could take his place, clapping his gloves against his thighs and hollering into the queue of infield players who would be trying to get one past him. Slipping into action mode, Aaron could easily let go of his quiet resentment, because he was naturally a team player, and he just focused on hyping up and bantering with the gaggle of players who would be shooting at him - and if the gaffer happened to notice his enthusiasm and team spirit, well that wouldn't hurt, would it...?
The big blond Stoke lad threw himself about in the box, managing to fend off strikes from Raheem Sterling and Callum Wilson, only to miss out on the powerful shot from Harry Kane, and then another from Jack Grealish. He was hardly going to make the Tuesday squad if he couldn't fend off more than 50% of the shots from his own teammates, annoyingly, but best to just laugh along and enjoy it - don't be a sulk, don't be a drain.
Defensive players were lining up to take their shots too, after the forwards and midfielders, and he punched the air and whooped victoriously as he caught the misjudged ball from Luke Shaw, and then another from his lofty United ally, Harry Maguire; but Conor Coady and Eric Dier proceeded to put balls past him, and he ended up arse-over-tit trying to stop a powerful blast from the boot of Kyle Walker. Once this was over, Aaron was jogging across to them with the last ball under his arm, wanting to shake hands with the City beast and cover his own embarrassment by praising the power of the goal.
As he joined them, jostling shoulder-to-shoulder with the defensive blokes of the Three Lions, he became more conscious that one of their number were missing, and the 6ft2 Englishman blushed slightly with guilty annoyance, then tried to tune back in to what Walker and Stones were chatting at him. You really gonna stick around at shitty Arsenal?' one of the two rugged Yorkshiremen was demanding playfully. Happy to finish 2nd, are ya...? Just sign for City and join us real blokes, will ya...?'
Ramsdale was laughing off this typical transfer banter that rippled regularly through the squad in this unusual mid-season tournament, but the topic made him even more conscious of the gap in their crowd - a certain member of the defensive line-up, another spare part of Southgate's fringe squad, should be here to back him up in some quick comebacks about Arsenal's stellar season and their long-awaited chance to reclaim the title. As it was, Ramsdale just paused in his laughter, unable to come up with a line for the lads, and he found himself casting his eyes across the gathering to see where Saka had ended up, the only other Gunner in their ranks who might join him in laughing off the top four rivalries with any panache.
But it was as if all of the sweaty kitted lads about him, now making slow progress towards the edge of the training ground and the low fiery sunset, could read his mind, because someone suddenly asked: `Is Whitey alright, then? Do you think he'll be back in training tomorrow, or...?'
It took the goalkeeper a moment or two to twig that the question was actually directed at him, and not just rhetorical. He shrugged the broad bulk of his shoulders and squinted across at Kieran Trippier, the stocky little Manc fella giving him an inquisitive frown as they fell into step together. What you reckon, Rambo?' the Newcastle player pushed thoughtfully. Is he actually pretty ill, or...?'
Ramsdale hesitated for a few too many seconds, and John Stones was shooting cheekily across from his other side: It's typical of these Gunners, y'know, right bunch of skivers, the lof em... hehe... Ain't that right, Saka?!' And with that the big muscular centre-back was loping off, and Aaron turned back to find Kieran still staring expectantly his way, sucking on his water bottle.
I don't know,' the 24-year-old said hollowly. He defo weren't right this morning, er, so I guess I'll just have to see how he is when we get back...'
I'm sure he'll be okay,' mused Dier, swinging his bare muscular arms at his sides a little way behind them. Sometimes you just got to rest and stay out of it for a day or so, we've all been there.' He smiled through his blond scruff of beard, catching Ramsdale's eye. `You're not worried about him, are you...?'
Aaron supposed his guilty expression must have looked more like friendly concern, and he immediately gurned back at the other tall blond player, then burst into throaty laughter and shook his head. No chance,' he asserted. He's just a bit peaky. I tried to shake him out of it this morning but he were having none of it, fellas. Stonesy's right - bit of a skiver, heh.'
I dunno,' Trippier was thinking aloud. He seems a hard worker and he was fucking determined he'd get a shot on the pitch tomorrow night - weird for him to miss all of today, so he must be feeling like crap...'
Ramsdale felt suddenly desperate to be out of this speculative conversation, distracting himself with unstrapping his thick goalie gloves and dropping the football from under-arm so he could dribble it along to the edge of the pitch and the waiting line-up of players and coaching staff who were all eager to relax back at the hotel. Southgate was shouting out a few plaudits for people who had shone in the day's sessions, and confirming that he wouldn't confirm the Wales line-up until breakfast tomorrow; the formalities gave a good cover to silence the discussion of 25-year-old Ben White's striking absence. It had gone largely unmentioned for the majority of Monday, but now suddenly seemed to be on the mind of all these other teammates, to Ramsdale's mild annoyance.
He shoved his gloves into the kitbag with his initials on before hoisting it over one broad shoulder, watching thoughtfully as the guys began to file indoors and through the few air-conditioned corridors to the car park where coaches would ferry them back to the hotel to refresh and prepare for dinner. He paused midway to the bus, his body clenching, less than keen to be back at base and have to climb guiltily back up to their room, to face Ben's ominous mood, and the consequences of his own prank - fuck, he'd gone a bit far hadn't he? And if he'd thought everything would revert to rosy in the heat of another Qatar morning, he'd been very wrong. Fuck's sake.
Other players had gone elsewhere for their Sunday evening downtime, the sanctioned meet-ups with visiting family from their docked cruiser; but White and his Arsenal roommate had been pretty clear and honest about their priorities, and come up with their own arrangements closer to `home'.
Right now, Benjamin and his recent fiancee were reclining by the outdoor pool, enjoying mocktails and saying very little; their bodies were electric with expectation, his own richly-tanned torso and limbs sizzling under the Doha sun, and his partner looking poronographically hot in her stringy bikini, enough to get her arrested on the streets of this frigid city.
Lounging back and trying to just enjoy the relaxation, the Poole-born football player couldn't held but lift up his wrist and check the time on his weighty premium watch - according to the ticking hands on the face, his roomie had another ten minutes, and then it would be time to swap over. White huffed an overheated breath out and lay back, lowering his arms to his side, and resting his head back against the upper ends of the gently curving lounge chair. At his left side, his hand brushed against hers, and the engaged young couple of English hotties played their fingers gently at each other, locking pinkies, until even this low-key physical contact began to make him strain at his dark red swimming shorts and sweat profusely, and he had to break contact with her, rubbing the rocks of the engagement ring gently before doing so.
She said nothing, and presumably understood: it had been too long since the pair had enjoyed one another, and this light weekend was the only real opportunity any of the England squad to spend `meaningful' time with partners or family beyond the brief exciting reunions in each Al-Whatever stadium. Benjamin could hardly believe that so many of the fellas had gone to shitty water parks or fancy cocktail bars on the beach, and weren't just doing the same thing as he and Rambo upstairs: conjugal visits.
The 25-year-old looked at his watch a dozen more times before the turn of the hour, and then he immediately patted Milly's arm and then lowered his CK sunglasses to give her a lewd wink. `Off we go,' he said coolly, rolling the other way and hopping up onto his feet. The sun-burned tiles scorched his soles until he shoved his feet into striped Adidas sliders and stood there adjusting his red shorts, his varnish-coloured body all on show until his thin shirt was thrust at him by the fiancee. She had pulled the light maxi-dress over her bikini look and was giving him a stare that could only be described as both hungry and thirsty.
They passed each other in the foyer at the bottom of the stairwell, Ramsdale and partner coming down in an almost dazed swagger, the goalie tilting towards his shorter partner in a romantic cuddle as they walked, kissing at her mussed hair. The girls greeted each other with quite saccharine affection whilst the two unused England players shared a knowing look and couldn't suppress the dirty little grins that lip their faces - Rambo in deep satisfaction, by the look of it, and White with the delicious air of anticipation.
`All good?' Ben called to his pal, keeping his voice low and casual.
`Sound,' came Aaron's almost slurred response, his tone and eyes very sleepy.
Glad to hear it,' he murmured back through a big schoolboy smirk, lowering one hand and fist-bumping the other player as they passed each other on the bottom step. He was prodded roughly from the other side and Milly hissed Don't be such dorks', but he and Aaron were just laughing gently.
`Everything's ready for you up there!' Rambo called to him from behind, as he and Milly mounted the stairs, and White glanced briefly over his shoulder, watching with faint friendly admiration as big hefty Aaron steered petite Georgina out through an archway towards the same poolside oasis that he and his bird had occupied for the past hour. He wanted to do a little fist-pump and shout something more cross at his Arsenal buddy, some crude innuendo or footballing pun, but he knew he'd just earn a slap from his princess, and arouse unwanted attention from the observant hotel staff.
Instead, he just hooked his arm about the girl's waist, and led her through the cool hotel interior to the room he and the goalie shared on the second floor. He thought about Aaron's words, `Everything's ready', and hoped the room was as chill and tidy as he imagined, that those two love-birds hadn't somehow made a mess of the place in their hour of privacy. But how much chaos could that big softie really cause, haha?
He let them into the room and felt some relief. They'd fastidiously tidied up the laddish clutter of a week's occupancy, and the place was still fresh, the big balcony windows re-opened to air... well, the sex smells that Whitey didn't want to think about, feeling no need to imagine the private performance of his Arsenal bestie! They were close, but... Actually, it smelled like Rambo or Georgina had sprayed a fragrance on their way out, a special sweetness in the air of the suite. A slight yelp of disapproval from the adjoining bathroom alarmed him, but when he looked that way, Milly was just fussing over a dropped towel and a slight mess about the bathroom sink, referring to them as `A pair of total pigs' - Benjamin chuckled and shook his head, pleased that the room was spotless and welcoming enough for that to be the only thing getting her annoyed. Both he and Ramsdale were prone to the stereotypical slobbishness of their profession, lads who went straight from molecoddling mums to prissy WAGs.
She was emerging from the bathroom, and unhooking the strappy shoulders of her dress. He grinned at her and began to unbutton his light loose shirt, parting it from the firm lean muscle of his chest and tummy, and sliding it gradually away from his tattooed body, backing towards his bed as she followed him, biting her lip. Her dress dropped to the floor and she was exposed in the bikin again, as beautiful and tantalising as she'd been by the pool, where he'd wanted to drag her into the water and finger her there and then, struggling to wait for the turn of the hour and his allocated time in the suite.
The engaged couple kissed and grabbed at each other, and fell onto his bed in just their swimming costumes, two gorgeous Love Island bodies grinding and writhing on the fresh sheets, until- He felt it first, his elbow knocking into something oddly unyielding amongst the softness of the bedding, but he didn't think much of it - it was her, reaching a hand to claw across his tanned shoulder, and then cradling at his firm neck, then feeling it for herself, and tugging some duvet aside to remove it from the crease beneath the pillows.
The sexy giggle died in her throat, her body still straddling his, her curved bottom rubbing delightfully against the tent in his swimmers, but- `What the hell?' she said, her voice becoming a sardonic laugh.
Benjamin blinked and looked from her bosom to her face to the thing in her hands, flinching slightly at the weapon-like silhouette of the thing that she was wielding over him. He looked from it to her stunned ambiguous features, and then swore loudly. Fucking prick!' he barked, holding her by her slim hips and wanting to tear the bikini scraps off her body. That'll be Rambo thinking he's fucking funny... Where the hell did he get THAT? Jesus, what a joker, just...' He reached to bat the thing away from her grip, a little distressed by the huge synthetic cock that she was holding over him like a spear.
Wait,' she exclaimed suddenly, yanking her hand back, inexplicably defending the absurd item from his swiping paw, -wait!' He frowned and tensed and for a moment thought that she was going to make those mad suggestions again, even after the long boundary discussions in early summer, but... No, she looked more angry than horny, and... Wait,' she growled again, sounding serious. What the fuck does he know? What have you been telling him, Benji? For fuck's sake...' She railed over his protests, his voice coming out mumbled and unsure. `You telling him all about our fucking sex life, are you? Oh how funny, silly Milly and her mad ideas - jesus christ, Benjamin!' He began barking out more half-formed sentences at her but she took one furious look at him and wielded his weapon, and the next moment the Arsenal centre-back was being slapped heavily across the face by a 9-inch silicone phallus. Thwack.
The plan had been for the two friendly couples to go for an early dinner somewhere, but after the spat between one pair, both young women ended up sharing a taxi back across the city to the harbour, and now Aaron Ramsdale was trying to console and placate the other footballer up in the suite, listening to his friend rant on about how he'd probably receive the engagement ring in an envelope before breakfast tomorrow - and spiralling so much in his boyish panic that he was conflating the sudden relationship drama with his failure to catch Southgate's eye. Stuck out here,' Whitey fumed from the balcony, not even looking at him, and just fucking everything up, shoulda just stayed in Blighty. England career: dead, relationship status: DEAD. For fuck's sake, mate.' This last exclamation was more of a sigh, and Ramsdale could hear the defeated self-pity in the other lad's voice that was probably the first precursor to forgiveness and then normality.
The goalie got up from the seat between the beds and stomped out to join the other lad on their sheltered little balcony, thick arms folded across his chest. Here,' he muttered, your career ain't dead, and I'm pretty sure yer relationship ain't either, pal.' He risked patting one large hand against the shoulder of Ben's shirt, but it was shrugged away and the tall slim fella turned and glared fiercely at him, not ready for forgiving and forgetting.
`You've fucked it, mate,' Whitey snapped simply at him.
Rambo could do nothing but frown apologetically at the slightly older lad, arms still foded, big head hanging slightly and face all puppy-dog apology. I'm so sorry,' he said with heavy over-earnestness. Look, it were just a prank, mate, just a little joke - she'll understand that, when she thinks about it, and-'
Did you not see her face?' his friend muttered. Ben's voice was small and dark and he sounded really fucking worried. Aaron kinda wanted to hug the lad, but he felt that might earn him a push over the edge of their balcony and he didn't think the swimming pool was deep enough to save him. He just frowned repentantly at him and hesitated over his next words. She flies off the handle like that,' he tried, and just earned a scathing look for this treacherous comment - okay, so putting some of the blame on Milly was NOT going to work here, right...
It's not the prank,' Ben pointed out coldly. It's... She's fuming that I told you any of that shit. Properly angry, Rambo. She...' He gestured at the slight swelling on one side of his face, the puffy redness about one socket that foreshadowed tomorrow's black eye. `I've never seen her so pissed off. I don't know how this is gonna go, mate, and it's not like I can easily just spend the night with her and wear it down, is it? I'm not gonna see her now til late Tuesday night and she's gonna be raging with me all that time, isn't she? Fuck!'
Aaron gritted his teeth and paused. Yep, this sounded a bit shit, but still... She'll soften,' he mumbled. She's not that mad, she loves ya and-' He sucked in his breath and huffed it out heavily. `Y'know what you two are like with these little spats, matey, it'll all be right and rosy by Tuesday when you make your World Cup debut, so...'
Whitey scoffed at that, abandoning him on the sliver of balcony and returning to the room, so he had to follow. Sure,' the defender muttered cynically. You reckon someone's gonna clock Southgate round the head with a dildo too, and he'll wake up from his coma deciding to give the likes of you and me a World Cup start, yeh?' Ben glowered at him, a little red-faced with his irritation. `Spare parts, that's all we are, as long as he's got his fucking bum-boy favourites in the camp, the same lazy fuckers who start every game - the prick harldy wants to play FODEN, and you think he's gonna chance you or I instead of-?'
Aaron couldn't help but laugh, as much as he was now in trouble - it was Ben's hot red face and the angry-old-man tenor of his sprawling rants. The good-looking poser looked ridiculously getting all moody and riled, like he did with stupid sports interviewers, and the pair of them were just too close for him to take it quite seriously. He put a fist to his mouth to stifle the chuckle but couldn't help it - and for a moment the 25-year-old lad stared furiously at him, jaw hanging open, but then Ben was laughing too, cackling briefly and dragging both hands down his face miserably.
The 24-year-old keeper just needed to capitalise on this moment of levity. Come here, bud,' he growled, and he walked over and grabbed the slightly shorter and slimmer fella in his arms for a brief macho embrace, then gave him a shake. Pull it together ,buddy,' he said more gently. `She'll get over it and it'll be good. I'm so sorry, mate, I never thought it'd trigger any bullshit like this, I just thought it'd be a good laugh, that's all...'
Ben was groaning unhappily as he pulled away, still rubbing at his face and scratching at his tufty goatee of darker hair. Oh yeah, ha ha ha,' he grumbled, kicking his way across the room and then pausing at a spot between the beds and the bathroom door - Aaron looked his way and found that the offending item lay at his bare feet, dropped there in the argument between the engaged couple. Ben, adding to the ridiculousness of it all, poked at the fallen monster with bare toes, and then let out another mad laugh. Where the fuck did you even get this, you weirdo...?!'
Aaron chuckled and grimaced, sitting himself down on the foot of the nearest bed, and still giving the big wide apology face to the scowling defender. `What, do you reckon I packed it in my bags back in the UK...? Nah, I passed this hilarious sex shop in the mall bit when I went out for a Starbucks with Popey the other morning... been hiding it in the bottom of my case all weekend, thinking it'd be the funniest joke ever, but...' He spread his hands and looked appealingly at the other young England hopeful.
`You're a twat,' Whitey informed him bluntly.
For sure,' Ramsdale agreed, but you love me for it, right?' He twisted his face into a big goofy grin, and was disappointed when the other player didn't match that and laugh any more - Whitey just glared at him and kicked the stupid thing across the smooth floor towards him, and Aaron stooped down and grabbed it up, wielding it in the aggressive way he imagined Milly did before thumping it over his mate's face. He shook it in the air and put on a pompous look of seriousness, saluting with it against his brow. Come on bud,' he appealed, you can see the funny side, right? You know I wasn't starting nothing, just having a little joke, nowt more...'
Oh, shove it up your arse,' muttered the other Arsenal star with a mixture of burning resentment and what sounded like faint, softening amusement - and then he was chuckling roughly, turning away and kicking at a wobbly floor lamp by the door to the bathroom, almost knocking it over. Aaron joined him, laughing and giving the stupid thing a wobble, then throwing it roughly at his roommate, who turned and scrabbled awkwardly to first catch it and then toss it aside. Oi, watch it!' Whitey yelped, shaking his head. `You're pushing it...'
`Ah, come on,' jibed Aaron quite frustratedly, getting up off the bed and reaching down to grab the thing off the floor again - stupid fucking toy had cost him near £100 quid from the dodgy store where he'd grabbed it, presumably not totally halal on the commercial streets of Doha, and imported from wherever. He'd briefly panicked at the service counter and imagined himself getting arrested in the act, Nick Pope sweating awkwardly at the exit door. And a waste of cash, now, since the joke had backfired so disastrously...
`Maybe I will, if that'll cheer your arsey face up,' he thought aloud, tossing the rubbery thing from hand to hand, and staring confrontationally across at his roomie.
What?' Ben asked sharply, in the middle of going to find and pick up his phone from where it was charging on the bedside table. What are you on about now, dick-head?'
Aaron was thinking about the throwaway comment, the bitter muttering from his pal even as Ben blatantly calmed down and realised that the conflict was between him and his mardy missus, and not their close friendship. Before,' the goalie grunted, you said I should... shove it up my arse, haha. Will that make you smile, you moody prick...?'
Apparently, just the mention of it would: Ben, once he'd finished frowning at his phone and presumably a lack of contact from his fiancee, was chuckling at this and shaking his head, and giving him an amused look. I'd like to see you try,' he muttered provokingly, tutting. All talk, you. Is that why you really bought it, big lad, nowt to do with pranking me or my missus...?'
Ramsdale wanted to roll his eyes at that generic comeback but he was glad to see a smirk of enjoyment on the other lad's face and he held back from projecting the phallic missile back towards his centre-back teammate - instead, he slapped it against one large palm and then tossed it back over the bed, spinning his position a bit to sit facing this way, and stare charmingly at his roomie. Oh, it was all about giving you and that lass a giggle,' he assured him, but now...' He laughed heartily and leaned back casually, resting on his elbows. `What, you don't think I could give it a go, haha? You calling me soft?'
Nah,' retracted Whitey in a frustrated voice. Just... straight? Ha ha. Come on mate, leave it out. I'm sick of us having to talk about that shit. You were a good mate when I was stressed about it, but...' He was fussing distractedly with his personal possessions on the bedside table, but he paused and looked this way. I really shouldn't have told you any of that,' he said in a fairly hollow voice, regretful eyes. She's right, isn't she? Shouldn't have gone sharing our business like that...'
As supportive and conciliatory as he wanted to be, the 6ft2 goalkeeper challenged this. `Nah, buddy - you don't think she reports your every little move to her girlfriends? Hell, my missus probably knows more about your shags than you do, fella...! Don't be hard on yerself. This is... this is all my fault, I know that, I was a right massive dick about it.'
Yep,' Ben agreed, but not without a smile, as massive a dick as THAT.' He waved his hand at where the moulded cock lay on the bedsheets, and he heaved a frustrated-sounding sigh. He went to close the sliding windows that barred them from the balcony, and Ramsdale leaned up the bed a bit to snatch back the toy and weigh it one hand.
`Ain't that massive,' he remarked distractedly.
Whitey had turned back this way, framed against the big French windows and the balcony view of the city horizon. He lifted one eyebrow and folded his arms. No?' he asked. Alright then, if it's so tiny, you saying you're bigger? Smug prick...'
Not bigger,' he told the 25-year-old in a thoughtful tone, giving it another weighty grip and then dropping it back to the covers, just... well, as big? I dunno...'
Fuck off,' Whitey was muttering, then, As if you're getting that up your arse, man...! I mean, what we did in the sauna that time, well that was one thing, matey, but...' There was a look of genuine disbelief on the lean handsome features of the sulking centre-back, and Ramsdale couldn't help but leer cheekily at him and relax back on the bedding with a long Hmm...' Ben laughed loudly at him and approached the bed. You're not seriously thinking about it, are you, Rambo?' he asked, and there was less mocking and banter in his voice - a touch of genuine earnest curiosity.
`Dunno - do you think I should give it a go?' the goalkeeper mused in his deep Stokey accent, realising as he said it that he wasn't quite sure how far he was willing to push this envelope - he liked that he was amusing and distracted the other lad, but he'd indulged that before, and it had got the pair of them into hot water with Mikel Arteta, fines paid and training suspensions tolerated. Now he was getting the other bloke in trouble with his bird, and yet here he was, joking that... well, was he joking? Was he?
Ben was staring at him and seemed to read his indecision. He smirked. Course you aren't doing it,' chided the South Coast lad. You're just winding me up again, you nob. Chuck the crappy thing in the bin and forget about it-'
Just you see,' Ramsdale barked boldly at him. I'm not scared. I'm trying it out.'
Ben paused and stared at the other lad, the football best mate who he was trying to stay mad at, but whose easy jovial way was successfully drawing him out of his girlfriend doldrums. He watched that big open face and waited for Aaron to crack up and roll over in laughter, but instead the slightly younger footballer was just giving him a lopsided grin and thoughtful eyes, and drumming his fingers on the moulded shaft. Benjamin laughed and shook his head at him, and went back to check his phone for the fiftieth time. `Hilarious,' he said critically, deciding to ignore Rambo and just focus on his real problems - he should give her another ring now, maybe she'd pick up this time, and...
`You got anything I can use as lube?' the other England sub was asking.
Still not buying it, White chuckled and shrugged, not looking back at him. `Erm, I think I have some Vaseline that I use on my lips, you could use that,' he mumbled ironically, flaring with excitement as he saw new messages waiting for him on the device - but nope, it was just a lads group chat from his hometown, with some of his old schoolmates bantering that he needed to nosh Southgate off to get himself a spot in the Wales match. Cunts. He locked the phone and put it back to charge and turned around - and found that Aaron was right by him, riffling through his toilet bag on the bed and retrieving the little round tine of Vaseline.
The two men paused in close quarters and Benjamin blinked slowly at his friend, who was just giving him an earnest look and lifting up the tin of moisturising jelly. `Okay if I nab it for a bit then, Whitey?'
He didn't know quite what to say. Ramsdale was really pushing the boundaries of the joke now, dropping the toilet bag of expensive gear back to the bed, and shuffling back over to his own bed; gracelessly, the 6ft2 lad was undoing the front of his cargo shorts and then dropping them away down his legs, baring more of the thick blond fluff on his thighs, an the tight fit of his black boxer briefs below.
Right...' the 25-year-old defender said very slowly. I'll go ring Milly then, and leave you to it, Rambo...'
`Oh. You not gonna stay and be referee? I'm only fuckin' doing this to prove you wrong...'
Fucking hell,' he said in a nervous laugh, why would I want to see...?'
`Suit yourself,' grunted the other player, lounging sideways on the bed in his print t-shirt and the clingy black boxers, gym socks still covering his feet and ankles. He was twisting the lid off the little tin and sniffing the aloe vera-scented contents, much thumbed by Ben and used to keep his pouty lips soft and kissable for Milly.
Benjamin stood there and watched him, knowing that going out on the balcony or out into the corridor was the sensible move to call Aaron out on his shite joke - but also that wasting his time leaving more missed calls and voice messages for his fiancee was prolonging the aggro, she probably just needed to stew and then be wooed afresh in the morning. She was difficult but predictable. He found he'd been staring a little too closely at his mate's bare legs and thoughtful face, and he glanced away, scratching at his chin and the back of his neck.
In his strangely casual way, Rambo asked, `You reckon this stuff will work?'
Well,' coughed White awkwardly, people use it for that, don't they?'
`Dunno, really.'
`Me neither! Fuck. I'm no expert...'
`Nope, even when your missus gave it a go, haha.'
`Oh, come on. Let's not bring that up.'
It had been oddly bonding though, in a way - not just the stupidity of their experimenting in the sauna and the trouble from the Arsenal gaffer, but the several calls and chats between them after Ben got home one evening and found a bunch of kinky toys lined up. It had been his fault, really... He'd made a couple of unsubtle suggestions about trying the finger again, after the time in the sauna had reassured his masculine ego, and she'd misread his wobbly curiosity, and invested heavily. A few fiery little rows later and a bin bag of naughty items rapidly disposed of, the couple had awkwardly put it behind them and returned to the safe vanilla wholesomeness of before. Aaron had been great, he thought, a really supportive listener, someone he could confide in over the ridiculous little episode - he'd never quite found a way of thanking him without sounding entirely cringey.
Well, now was hardly the moment, but...
I reckon it'll work fine,' he coughed hesitantly. It's defo lubricant. Erm.'
Yeah,' sighed Aaron from the bed, and I don't think we've got anything better.'
No...' He moved about, finding himself hovering uncomfortably, not sure where to place himself, or whether he now ought to actually leave the room - lots of the other guys would be floating about downstairs, perhaps done with their rare family time, or just hosting their partners or relatives here for a bit, so... He pulled uncomfortably at the colour of his shirt, then Rambo barked at him: Oh sit down, mate, you're making the place look untidy!'
And so he did, where he was: at the foot of Aaron's bed. But even as he sat there and rested one hand against the sheets, it occurred to him that Rambo and his bird had fucked here not so long ago, making much better use of the suite for an hour than he'd managed with his Milly, where the only action had been a thump to his face from a sex toy, and a brief screaming match before she slammed the door on him.
I'm just gonna get this t-shirt off,' Aaron was announcing. Don't wanna get any of your lube on my nice t-shirt, y'know?' Rambo was grinning at him in between the act of wrestling out of it then tossing the garment away, reduced to undies and socks, and leering this way - Ben blinked at him a few times then forced a laugh and retorted, `It ain't lube, it's my lip balm, you kinky twat. Don't make this sound like my fault, you bought the massive dildo...'
`Ah, relax, your bird isn't here to attack you with it...' chuckled the other lad, shaking the thing in the air in one hand as he got into a more comfortable position - building a little nest of pillows behind his back muscles and relaxing there with his thick legs apart, right up the bed from where Benjamin now awkwardly sat, holding one knee to his chest.
`It bloody hurt,' the 25-year-old murmured, mainly to himself, watching with nervous eyes as his friend shuffled about and made a pig's ear of stripping off his boxers; shifting legs and posture hid the awkward view for a moment, as the black garment was pulled down his legs, but Rambo made no effort to cover his dignity or lean to shyness - soon Ben caught a glimpse of his floppy soft cock and the pale grey-blond of his pubes, a little overgrown. And then the black pants were being chucked this way, almost hitting him in the face until he ducked one way, laughing hysterically.
`I guess I better just do a finger first,' Ramsdale philosophised.
`Guess so,' White murmured, staring that way but averting his eyes from his friend's crotch - staring instead at the broad strength of his chest, the little fluffy patch between them, the dark roundness of his large nipples... okay, that was just as weird, he looked properly away, staring to the wall instead.
`Feels alright,' Rambo told him, and he didn't look to confirm his understanding that his friend was now daubing a finger in the lip balm and poking it down where the sun don't shine. No, he shouldn't look - he shouldn't even be sat on the bed! He pushed his hands down against the covers and stared fixedly at the wall, except... oh. A mirror. He was actually staring at the mirrored doors of the wardrobe and he could see a side-view of Aaron's big legs and lounging torso, and one of his arms shoved down between those legs... he could see the frown of concentration on his mate's face, tongue jutting out a little between his lips like he was doing a tough spelling test.
`You ever done that since?' he asked, and heard the croaky nervousness of his dry voice.
What, since the sauna?' Rambo retorted through a couple of uncomfortable grunts. Nah, never thought to - was hardly gonna suggest it to my missus, Whitey, she's not as wild as yours...! Haha. But... I dunno, it didn't feel bad, I mean, it doesn't feel bad now. Erm...' A real strained tone of concentration, then another little grunt. `But yeah... I guess a finger feels this weird on the ringpiece, then maybe that thing IS kinda massive... hah!'
Cheeks flushing and heart racing, Benjamin sniggered and turned awkwardly that way to face him as he spoke - `Aw mate, this is mad, you don't need to prove anything...' - but he stumbled to a pause, looking between the spread legs, and seeing Rambo's hand shoved firmly beneath the weight of his cock and balls, buried out of sight and doing the business. He stared from the hand and the weighty privates atop it, up Aaron's torso and to his flushed, frowning face - fuck, fuck, he's really trying this...!
Aaron's large muscular cheeks clenched against the invasion, despite him now muttering `Relax' to himself; he remembered the vice-like clamping of it against his fingertip, remembered feeling that alien pressure on himself in a surprising place... but he also remembered the tickling thrill of it, the thrill of the newness or the transgression, perhaps, more than of the physical act itself?
Looking up, he saw the wide-eyed wonder on Whitey's face, and he liked that - well, apart from anything else, he wasn't whinging on about his girlfriend or trying to accuse him of ending his marriage prospects! But aside from that... he quite liked the level of intense attention from his friend, who had been accusing him of bullshit and being too conventional, and was now just agog with... what, shock and horror, or curious interest, or...?
`You'll have to try a second finger,' Whitey said to him abruptly, his voice low and a bit shaky, and then shifting to a silly yelping laugh.
Oh right, aye,' Ramsdale agreed, nodding. He pulled the finger away from the greased furry ring between his cheeks, and he reached for the tin again, smearing two fingertips through its warming contents instead. He caught Benj staring and laughed. I'll buy you a fucking tub of it for your lips, pretty boy.' He jabbed the two lubed fingers against his hole now and found that this was a very different thing. One finger found its way in with just a bit of will-power, but now... well, two of his fingers just pushed stupidly between his cheeks, as if there wasn't even a hole there...!
That's it,' mumbled Whitey though, his voice oddly encouraging. Just rub a bit, take it slow.'
Er, thanks,' he laughed hoarsely, but was glad of the comments, and even a little bit glad that his friend was shuffling up the bed a bit and rising on his knees, hands laid atop of his shorts and thighs. He smiled awkwardly at his mate and then shifted his weight, making it easier to prod himself down there, and run the greasy fingers around his crack and then back at the tight hole, opening himself up a little more... a little more... would they go in? Could they go in...? Uh... Go on, mate,' Ben urged in a fierce little yelp that sounded like a snatch of mid-game encouragement at the defensive end of the Emirates.
`Yeh,' Rambo muttered, and he could almost feel the fingertips going in, but it hurt, a kinda tight fiery sensation, not the ticklish thrill of a single teasing digit...
`Is it okay?'
`It's a bit much, mate.'
You can get em in.' Whitey sounded fucking thrilled. That was odd, but then... he felt the excitement of the experiment himself. It had been like this in the sauna, hadn't it? Laughing along and pushing each other to try it, a joke made into real action, and the pair of them poking their tight straight holes in the sweaty heat, right until they...
As if on cue, his cock twitched and lifted, and if he wasn't starting to get nervous and more tense, it'd probably become rock hard properly. With his free hand, he pulled it out of the way, back against his pubes and waist, and inadvertantly gave his mate more of a view - he could see him staring down between his legs, wide-eyed, and he wasn't sure if that should make him more uncomfortable. Actually, it was kinda encouraging.
`Use a bit more lube?' The centre-back's voice was a tremulous whisper.
Nah,' he grunted, I can... ergh.... Yep...' In they went, his hole parting but clamping about them, the tips of two fingers in his backside, haha. He grimaced and grunted and left them there for a few moments, then tugged them back, letting out a long sigh and a little peal of laughter. Ben was staring at him, looking alarmed, but he reached left and picked up the toy, just as his friend began to ask `Was it too much...?'
Here,' Rambo barked. Lube this up for us, will ya? The tip?' He tossed it directly at Whitey, who was quite close to him now, and saw the almost scampering speed of the other lad's hands, snatching the toy and the tin, and then spreading a thick glob of the vaseline over the sculpted head of the artificial prick, very obedient to the request. He passed it this way like a baton and Ramsdale took it, laughing as he did. I just need to try it,' he grunted. The fingers thing ain't quite working, but... I dunno. Let's try this.' He stared at it and laughed in disbelief, then shared a stunned look with his pal, then pushed the 9-inch thing down below his balls and across his furry gooch.
`How's it feel?' breathed Whitey.
`Alright, hang on, I've not tried it yet,' he laughed back, his voice a nervous rattle.
`Sorry, sorry-'
`Nah, nah, it's cool - just... haha, fuck, I dunno, it feels HUGE...'
`I told you...!'
`Yeah but not huger than ME, haha...' And with that, he lifted and shook his hardening cock, making his point - it wasn't at full mast, but it was a long and thick piece and not dissimilar from the thing he'd purchased, apart from the foreskin starting to pull back. Over the tip of his cock, he could see Ben's eyes widen more, and he joined him in heavy nervous laughter - it's not like they hadn't seen each other hard, though he guessed he'd tried his best not to look too directly at his mate's junk that afternoon.
True, true,' Ben was chuckling at him in a giddy fashion, kneeling a bit too close to him, so close that one of Aaron's twitching thick legs brushed against the side of his, feeling his body heat on his calf. He grimaced and smirked and rubbed the tip of the thing a bit more firmly down his crack, against the magic spot, and shuddering at the girthy feel of its tip there, where his one finger had slid in kinda easy, but two had been... a challenge. He hunched forward, working it and twisting it, and laughing some more. Fuck,' he snapped irritably, `this is harder than you'd imagine.'
`And so are you,' Ben muttered, and he just grinned proudly at this, wrapping his fist about his big hard-on - it had been buried deep in his missus, trying hard not to spunk and get her up the duff, only two hours ago. He was surprised he still had the spunk in his balls to get this rock-hard now, but then this was all so new and weird...!
`Don't mind, do ya?' he muttered at his staring pal, giving his own dick a stroke.
`What? No - er, you do what you want, haha - do you want me to go, or...'
I weren't asking your permission to wank,' he laughed heartily, pushing one arm forward and pointing the greasy-tipped weapon towards his mate. I mean - do you mind? Like... I can't get the angle, you know, just to get the tip in? Will you...?' He stared down his arm, down the rubbery length of it, and met Ben's wide eyes, his awkward face, the slight hunched lean of his body this way, kneeling there in the centre of the bed, up against one of his furry legs...
`Will I...?'
`Fuck's sake, if you're creeped out, let's l-'
No, I'll do it,' gasped Whitey, nodding, and taking the baton from him. I'll go real easy.'
`Oh fuck off, I'm not made of glass, haha, just push it in me, yeh?' He said this, grinning broadly and slapping one of his thighs with the greasy-fingered hand, but his heart hammered and his buttocks clenched, and he felt like he'd started something he couldn't really finish here - but he'd suggested it now, sure that this would distract and amuse the moody prick, and make things alright, somehow... What the hell were they both playing at here, haha?
Benjamin White pushed the tip of the toy between the firm globes of the bum cheeks, his mate leaning further back and shifting his posture back a bit - thighs lifted and parted more, big hard cock flapping back onto his lower six-pack. This was madness, but he had it in his hand now, this stupid weapon that had thwacked his face and left his eye throbbing. Throbbing like his cock, he thought, getting stiff and awkward in the front of his swim shorts, which pinned it down and prevented it from being too obvious to the other lad.
That's it,' growled Rambo's voice, just shove it in mate, I'll be grand?'
He stared, mouth hanging open, at the big bare lad, bare but for the socks on his feet, which were now up in the air either side of him, legs held high and spread wider. Shivering, Ben looked down his tattooed arm to the tool he held, pushed into the firm cheeks, pushing further in, pushing there, tip rolling up and down a fraction, then... yeh, he could feel it, feel the soft give of it, and he could see from Aaron's wide round face that he'd got it right, that he was breaking in. He watched as Aaron's mouth opened too, a wide `O' like his own, and he pressed forward with his arm muscles. In went the tip. In went some more.
`FUCK,' growled Ramsdale.
Is that okay?' he panted. Is that feeling okay?'
He paused, but he didn't pull it back, his bicep tensed and his other hand reaching instinctively to hold one of Rambo's thick calves. He gulped, staring eye to eye with his mate, whose face looked pained and now glossy with sweat. Their eyes met and they both panted out breath but neither said anything. It's okay,' heaved Rambo after a long moment, I can take it.' Fuck, was he just trying to prove he was tough and unafraid?! Ben already thought his mate was one of the toughest fuckers he knew, so...
`Just push it in, mate,' came Ramsdale's throaty voice, and he did, gripping the base of the thing and angling it forward, edging it in but then pushing a bit too hard, and seeing the convulsive jolt it shot through the spread legs, and into the gurning uncertainty of the goalkeepers' broad face.
Wank yer cock,' Ben hissed nervously, it might make it easier?' Why did he think that was true? It just seemed the right thing to say, and kinda something he wanted to do to himself, but he daren't reach down and touch himself through his shorts, not yet - his cock was hard in there, hard against the mesh constraint and the dark red waterproof outer layer. As hard as Aaron's cock, held tightly in one fist, and pumped up and down, even as White began to push the tool in further, deeper, stretching open the man's hole for him - he'd struggled to put two fingers up himself, but now...!
`FUUUUCK,' came Rambo's groan again - it was ambiguous, pleasure and pain, and Ben just stared wildly at him, unsure if he should pull back or go deeper... he did both. He pulled back an then forward, matching the rhythm of the othe rman's hand pumping up and down on his meat. The balls below bounced, and Ben found them a whisker's breadth form his own fingers where they clutched the rubbery shaft.
That's it,' he purred, leaning in closer, feeling his mate's socked ankles brush at his outer arms, his shoulders. He pressed it in a bit more then pulled back, then forward, then back, then... He gritted his teeth, sweat pricking at his hot red face, and his eyes locked on Aaron's, seeing the strange enjoyment that twisted his features. FUCK,' growled his friend again, such excitement and energy in his voice, making Ben White's whole 6ft1 body prickle with tension and taboo, and then... `FUCK,' barked the Arsenal goalie one more time, and White misunderstood, or underestimated it - the noise, the growling pleasure, the agonised mask of his face - he pushed the toy in deeper, getting inches of its thick synthetic body inside those parted cheeks, stretching the pink muscle of the whole, and then- Aaagh!
Immediately Whitey was reeling back from him, squealing out like that, but a hazy mist had occluded the real world for Ramsdale for a moment - his body shook with surprising pleasure and he gripped the shaft of his cock very tightly, angling it unintentionally forward as he did, his balls quivering and the veins in his shaft throbbing against his hand. He let out another few gurgling cries of `Fuck, fuck, fuck' and stretched out his full body against the bedding, amazed that he'd climaxed again so soon after bedding the fiancee.
But then the world was coming int focus, and he could see Whitey on his knees on the bed in front of him, hunched over between his legs, a hand clutched to his face, squealing still - `You prick!' Ben was saying, oddly, and Aaron blinked sleepy eyes at him, trembling still with the high and comedown of orgasm, feeling dribbles of cum on his own fingers.
His focus grew and his mind cleared - and now Ben was scrambling off the bed and calling him a Total wanker' and dashing for the bathroom. And now it was making sense. He hadn't just spunked, he'd spunked at his mate, hadn't he? Shot his load right at him. Swaying a bit, the 6ft2 Stoke lad clambered off the bed and almost tripped over the folds of duvet. He steadied himself and followed Whitey to the bathroom door. Mate!' he yelped.
`It stings,' shouted the centre-back.
`It'll be alright, just wash it out, just wash it out-'
`You came in my fucking eye...!'
`Mate, relax, just let me...'
`Get off me, get the fuck off me.'
`Here, you need some soapy water, mate-'
`You spunked in my fucking eye, you dick-head! A dildo smashing one and your cum in the other, you... fuck... fuck... FUCK...!'
And that was pretty much how it had ended, really, because Aaron had been forced out of the bathroom with the door locked in his face, leaving him to slouch on his own, naked but for his socks, his arse-hole stinging terribly and his cock limp between his thighs. He'd listened to strings of curses in Ben's voice through the bathroom door, and stood staring at the greasy marks on his bedcovers, the dildo itself lying at the centre, a threateningly large and glistening imitation of his own big prick. As if it's been in me, he thought dully, staring it it for a while, then getting a handful of tissues and tossing it in a bin. Owch, his arse really did hurt, that had all been a bit too much...
And it hurt all through the evening, sat in his sweatpants at their al fresco dinner, unable to join in much with the banter of the others, and making only quiet excuses for the fact that White was staying in the room all evening. Ramsdale went to bed early, eschewing the late hang-out in the hotel games room, and creeping nervously back to their suite, only to find his roommate curled up in bed and barely making a sound with his breathing. He wasn't a lot more responsive in the morning, and Rambo left him like that, silent and resentful, catching only a brief glimpse of his distressed face before exiting the room: one shiner of a black eye, and the other bloodshot with pinkeye.
Ben was sat on the balcony reading the same page of his Dean Koontz novel over and over when he heard the room door go. Night was falling over Doha and a few bugs were buzzing about the bright lamp next to his lounge chair. He felt himself tense, listening to the footsteps and breathing from within - the little thud of a dropped kitbag, the squeak of springs as someone sat on a bed, the big sigh of a guy who wanted to start a conversation but was too scared. For a while, Benjamin sat there, holding the novel open in the lap of his tracksuit pants, and staring awkwardly over the edge of the balcony, at the view of the Qatari city. He heard Aaron clear his throat awkwardly inside the room, and he let out a long uncomfortable sigh of his own.
`Whitey?' came the goalie's shaky voice.
He got up, holding the book, and went inside, pulling the door shut after him. Ramsdale was staring this way with a guilty look on his charming face, and White just sagged on his feet, feeling pathetic and distressed. It had been a long day of sick-rest in the room, unwilling to show his face to any member of the coaching or medical team who had knocked on the door a dozen times since breakfast. He supposed he ought to thank Rambo for covering for him, but that was a bit tough, after the prank and the... other thing.
`You okay?' mumbled the bigger lad.
Look at my face,' White grumbled. What d'you think?'
`It doesn't look as red as this morning,' his friend informed him quietly.
`Oh, great. Great. Really great. Fucking hell, pal.'
`Mate... I'm so sorry...!'
`Ah, buddy, can we not do this? I feel like shit. I don't need to hear your apologies. We both... lost control a bit, yeah? Just... leave it, mate.' He didn't have the heart to rant at his buddy, couldn't bring himself to shout at him or point out how horrible his day had been, the pain in both of his eyes. He was mortified and ashamed and he felt trapped in this suite, unable to face even their FA handlers. He was on his first World Cup but all he wanted was to request a flight back to London Heathrow. Fuck it all.
Aaron broke into his thoughts in a small, nervous voice, one that was strangely irresistible in his affable charm. You want me to get our dinners form the restaurant early, and see if we can eat them up here?' He blinked his big eyes and stared apologetically this way. I mean, if you want the company, mate. But if you just wanna be alone, then...'
Benjamin sighed heavily and rubbed gingerly at the less physically sore of his two eyes, the one that only stung a little now but was still an ugly red when he looked at his pretty boy features in the mirror. Yeah,' he muttered. Er... that would be good. Thanks.' There was no point in spiting Aaron's offer and prolonging his lonely misery; all of this, he thought, was Rambo's fault, but he needed a friend, and he knew he'd lost control of himself yesterday, knew that he'd put himself in this position in his own stupid ways. He looked pitifully at the other guy, and Ramsdale got up immediately, walking over and throwing his big goalie's arms about him in that matey hug of his. And Ben shivered into his friend's hold, glad of the warm comforting strength after a day of bathing his sore eyes and hiding from the world, too `ill' to join training or be up for selection in tomorrow's game - and Rambo patted him gently on the back, and apologised over and over.
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