Part 345: Warming Up In Mainz
He lugged his bag at his side and tossed it forward so that it landed with a satisfying thud on the covers of the bed, the one at the further side of the slightly cramped room, nearest to the large old-fashioned radiator that seemed to service their suite on its own. Outside, the Rhineland was blanketed under frost and sub-zero temperatures, and so far the interior of the team's hotel was simply not as cosy or plush as any of the men might have anticipated. There was nothing dodgy as such about the Mainz accommodation that they had checked into tonight, but it wasn't quite at the usual slick corporate standard of hotel that their Bundesliga football club would ordinarily arrange across the major cities of Germany - if anything, it took the tall teenager back to his early playing days back home in Birmingham, life before he became a top-flight player and an international sensation. But right now all he could think about was the disappointingly lukewarm temperature, and journey past the bed to stand over the radiator and its ominous groans, testing to see just how much heat it might offer them through the chilly January night.
Huh,' Jude Bellingham remarked grimly. It'll do.'
He turned away from the heater but kept close to it, mirroring the behaviour of the other lad in beginning to strip off the outer layers that they'd retained in the draughty reception below whilst the bosses got them checked in and organised. Off came the Nike snood and the thin gloves, designer coats shucked and dumped on the backs of chairs, but Jude was slow to unzip the fleece top over his other layers, and he noticed that his Borussia Dortmund teammate wasn't rushing either. They shared a grim look and then both laughed, Bellingham shaking his head.
`It isn't so bad,' he muttered, and then leant back, pressing the arse of his skinny-fit trackies against the heated metal, and rubbing the palms of his hands over the top of it, before pushing away and doing a small lap of the room, inspecting its chintzy decor and wondering what had gone wrong with logistics for them to drop a couple of stars in accommodation on this midweek away trip.
`Have we stayed in worse?' the other player commented challengingly, but he didn't seem too worried, smirking behind the red-tinged fur of his beard, and opening up his small travel case to start removing a few personal things at the side of his bed. Salih Ozcan was a generally upbeat bloke and Jude supposed that was why he'd befriended the Cologne-born Turk more closely than many of his Dortmund colleagues this season; he enjoyed the 25-year-old's mindset and outlook, and the two had become regular roommates in the last few months, after Jude had spent a period feeling a bit lost when his former big bros Jadon Sancho and then Erling Haaland made the move to Manchester. And now that Jude's own Premiership return seemed so inevitable and obvious, he couldn't help but feel that certain Dortmund players had actually began to snub and ignore him, even though there seemed little chance that a transfer deal would be struck before this month closed. Yes, he was almost certainly on his way out in the summer, but Bellingham saw himself contributing a lot more to Dortmund before that rolled around, and it pissed him off that some of the native German players had begun to distance themselves from him since the World Cup.
The 6ft1 teen went through into their bathroom, amused that it was almost the same size as the main bedroom, and pissed noisily on the seat of their shared toilet, a standard youth who'd spent too long away from the rules and stewardship of his parents. He nervously tested that the sink could spurt out some hot water before skipping back through into the main suite, and yanking off his bright fresh trainers to throw his body onto Ozcan's bed, where he lounged imperiously next to the slightly older man sorting out his stuff.
Oi,' Salih chuckled warmly, you've got your own.'
Jude smiled but ignored the comment, too lazy to cross between them, and reaching to the small wooden table between the beds to retrieve a TV remote. Whilst Salih fished through his limited belongings for a phone charger and other things, the British teenager switched on the disappointingly small wall-mounted TV and flicked aimlessly through a small selection of channels. His German was progressing, but still fairly rudimentary, and he roved through the channels with the same faint irritation that had shrouded his cultural experience of Dortmund life since moving to the continent. But then he found a sports channel, where he found that language barriers tended to melt, because the stats and emotions spoke for themselves, and he settled comfortably against the pillows of the wrong bed, almost defiant in his relaxed posture and waiting for the other midfielder to complain.
Ozcan, though, just shook his head and got on with his routines, disappearing into the bathroom himself and swearing in German at his teenage friend for soiling their toilet seat yet again. Bellingham ignored him casually and watched the mixed sports coverage on the screen, whilst tapping the tip of the remote repeatedly on his sharp chin.
`You savage,' his teammate grumbled amicably on his way back in, an electric toothbrush buzzing in his mouth.
Jude didn't respond to this ambivalent accusation. Something on the sports round-up had caught his attention and lifted him out of the chilly German hotel room. A still image of the English striker dominated the screen, celebrating a goal in the recent London derby, and the sight of the Three Lions captain transported the teen immediately back to the oppressive warmth of Qatar... to the sun-warmed relaxation of the hotel camp, to the air-conditioned football stadiums and the banter with other English lads, and... to fucking Harry Kane in the face by the pool and in the sauna, claiming his own national captain as the first man to suck on his meaty teenage cock.
Come on,' muttered the Turkish national player, waving a hand at him whilst still brushing his teeth and drooling a little toothpaste into his beard. Get off my bed, you pissy prick.'
Jude paused, his attention divided, and Ozcan had to shout a bit more firmly at him before he would drag himself off the comfort and lunge across onto his own, getting out of his roomie's way. And then he turned his attention sharply back to the screen, where a couple of German pundits were discussing fresh claims that Man Utd and others were circling for the prominent striker, but that Kane was being inexplicably loyal to perennial losers Tottenham Hotspurs in North London. Jude found himself uninterested in the transfer talk, even though every big Premiership move this January seemed to factor interestingly into his own undecided future; he just found himself staring quite nostalgically at the striker on the screen, and thinking back to the winter heat of the World Cup, and all of its revelations.
Nostalgia. That's what he felt, mainly, even though it was less than two months since the English team bowed out of the huge tournament and watched Messi's Argentina rise to the top. It was obvious enough that a rising player like Jude would find league football a bit dull and domestic after that epic experience, but... he knew well that the sight of Kane on-screen there was rousing more specific sensations and longings than the glory and excitement of representing his country on that stage. Huh. Lots of big memories made in Qatar `22, but who'd have thought the main ones might be so... freaky?
The thoughts frustrated him and made him shift for a more comfortable position on the bed and its cool soft sheets, starting to adjust to the disappointingly low temperature of their suite. He unzipped his chunky fleece and fiddled with the neckline of the muscle-fit training top below, pushing himself up to seated rather than lounging, and then staring distractedly over at Salih who was returning from the bathroom again.
`What news?' the more experienced midfielder demanded.
Jude found the question a bit ridiculous, given that his German-speaking friend knew well enough how little he could follow TV here, and yet he supposed the headlines would be obvious if there were any. He just shrugged and tossed the remote irritably over to the other bed, hugging his long lean arms about his knees and resting back against the old-fashioned wooden headboard. The TV show had moved away from Premiership news and back to local German concerns, highlighting a couple of key rumours including men in their own 6th-place team.
He let out a long huffy breath, suddenly restless where he had been relaxed. It had been a good day's training back at their base, and the late evening journey here had all been very smooth and chill. With the game scheduled for early evening, they even had a pretty slow start ahead of them tomorrow, and their hosts were a pretty unthreatening prospect. All was good, and yet the 19-year-old now felt agitated and out of place, and he didn't want to address how much he wanted to be back in the Middle East and kitted out in the kit of his country, Three Lions on his broad young chest.
What?' demanded Salih, interrupting his thoughts. The 25-year-old was down on his bed now, finally done fussing around with his belongings, and he was thumbing back through the TV channels in search of some entertainment, but he'd obviously noticed Jude's frown, or his big grumpy sigh. He smiled vaguely, a look of mild concern in his eyes. Are you that bothered about the room?' the other lad demanded in his crisp slow English.
`Uh - no, no, it's cool. I'm just- Uh, never mind.' He pouted sulkily and shrugged his shoulders and shivered slightly, pulling the fleece closed again over his body. He stared accusingly at the radiator, annoyed to feel cold in the German night but also a bit hot under the collar because of his wondering imagination.
Pftt, it's not so cold - and I have Turkish blood, you pussy!' At that, Ozcan hopped up and proceeded to strip, tugging away his heavy jumper and down to a simple t-shirt, then shedding the sweatpants so he was just in his simple black boxers, before crawling under his bedding and getting comfortable, then resuming his mindless scroll of their limited channel options on the TV. We will be fine,' the cheery bearded man insisted, and Jude just grunted his response, unsure why his own mood had turned quite so sour. He was annoyed at his own longings, urges that he'd been carefully suppressing from the moment he parted from the England crew.
He remained sitting moodily on his bedding, hugging his knees, and saying nothing to answer the idle chatter of his friend, who slipped unconsciously from English back to German as he commented on how boring the TV options were. It was late enough, really, and the pair of them should be bedding down for sleep, as per the gaffer's instructions, but they both knew that the morning schedule was fairly relaxed, so it wasn't urgent. Jude got up to strip away the fleece and dump it on top of his bag at the foot of the bed, rubbing at his arms and sides in the slinky long-sleeved runner top below.
Oh, stop it,' chided the Turk in the other bed. You aren't that cold.'
Jude grimaced then grinned at the mocking tone, shrugged. I am a bit - aren't you? Fucking freezing in here,' the young Brummie moaned back. He slid his hands inside the waist of his tracky pants, leaving them there against his underpants and skin, and enjoying his own body heat for the comfort it brought. What is this shit-hole, seriously? This isn't normal.'
Relaxing in bed, Ozcan shrugged. `It is not so bad.'
It's shite,' Bellingham insisted simply. It's not the usual.' He hovered there, rocking on his heels, and staring thoughtfully at the other player, and then glancing at the TV, which was now at least occupied by a cheesy American movie where he could follow the dialogue and ignore the German subtitles. Some rom-com. Come on,' he muttered, staring back at Salih. Are you not freezing your bollocks off, man?'
A gentle snigger from the German player. `Such lovely phrases in England.'
Fuck,' Jude mumbled, and then he just put it out there. Come on, Sal, let me climb in with you for a bit, will ya?' He stared moodily at the mid-20s football player, pouting a little, and unsure exactly what was on his mind - the temperature of the room, or already something else?
Ozcan laughed but he didn't say no. He seemed to think about it and then roll his eyes. Are you serious?' the other Dortmund midfielder demanded. You've got your own, fucker. What are you playing at?'
It's cold,' the Stourbridge-born ace complained simply. He was being brattish and daft, he could hear it in the almost whining tone of his own voice - and yet he was quite taken by the idea now. Whilst his friend looked at him quite critically, Jude shoved down the tracksuit pants in one go, shedding them down the firm brown muscle of his thighs, and exposing the tight black briefs he wore beneath - Aren't you colder?!' the other player was protesting loudly - and then retrieving a pair of bed-shorts from the recess of his bag, stepping clumsily into them in two moves and closing the gap between and up the beds. `Come on,' he insisted, gently, lifting the covers and sliding in next to Salih, who just sighed and shuffled, making a bit more space and giving him an indulgent look.
Okay,' the 6ft footballer said firmly. Now stop whinging and let me watch this movie.' He muttered something to himself in German that sounded like, `What is he like?' But really, the Cologne man seemed relatively unfazed, amused but unbothered by Jude's odd insistence to share a bed for a bit - and to his relief, it WAS warmer in here, sharing the weight of the duvet over the pair of them, closely neighbouring his friend and colleague. Warmer, and maybe kinda comforting, to be so close to someone else - life back here in the German winter had been tinged with an unexpected loneliness after the high camaraderie of his time spent in Doha and then visiting home in the Midlands.
Under the covers, relaxing, Jude couldn't help but slid his hands down the front of his top and inside the waist of the shorts, resting them under the extra layer, and staring thoughtfully down the bed at the screen, trying to place the familiar American comedy and its B-list stars, but then also unconsciously, his hands pushed more firmly inside the comfort of the shorts, in against the bulge of his briefs, where he couldn't help but give his package a little squeeze and adjustment. He pulled at the elastic and the pouch the fabric formed around the weight of his privates, only idle touching, or not as conscious or deliberate as it might be.
Hey,' exclaimed Ozcan abruptly, lying close to the side of him in the bed. What do you think you're doing now?' This time the handsomely bearded man did look a bit cross, leaning this way and gesturing across the bedding at the mound formed by the teen's gently roaming hands. `Stop playing with yourself,' his teammate told him simply, his voice blunt but tinged with amusement, as if he wasn't quite sure what was going on.
Tsk, relax,' Jude quipped quickly back at him after just a moment's embarrassment; he nestled his tall body in against the sheets more firmly and knocked elbows with the lad at his side, keeping his hands firmly at his crotch. Just checking it's all there, big man.'
Salih shook his head with a little noise of frustration, picking up the remote and turning up the volume on the TV, frowning away at the screen whilst Jude gave him a sidelong smirk - an idea was forming in his head, or at least forming clarity and shape, perhaps it had been there the moment he sidled over and lumped in with the other man. Or the moment his eyes had bulged at the screen and he'd allowed himself to speculate over Harry Kane's club future and his own - would their paths cross again soon?
Bellingham let out his own little sigh, shoulders and neck relaxing further into the spare pillow that he'd occupied. But he turned his head gently towards his neighbour, rather than paying any attention to the film; he brushed his elbow against Ozcan's again, nudging him in a way so gentle that at first the 25-year-old player ignored it, shifting his arm gently but seeming to ignore or simply not notice. So he did it again, knocking his arm into the other man's, and then pushing his hands back down to grab his bulge in both - a confused expression on his face, the other Dortmund footballer looked silently at him, a question in his eyes.
`One of way keeping warm, isn't it?' Jude chuckled.
What?' He sounded confused and concerned, making Bellingham hesitate, but he brushed him this time with a foot, rubbing bare calves together under the covers and laughing when the German Turk blushed and frowned and wriggled further away, shaking his head. You're mad,' was the other midfielder's stern appraisal.
The 19-year-old grinned curiously to himself, comfortable in the other man's company - comfortable enough, anyway, to press and hold at the front of his briefs inside the shorts, easing fingers over the outline of his cock, and pretending to turn his attention back to the telly, whilst still watched Sal out of the corner of his eye. The older bloke looked sharply this way and then away, and then let out another heavy sigh.
I'm just so horny,' Bellingham exclaimed simply, cupping his package properly in one hand and then running the other under his top to trace the bumps of his resting six-pack. He bit his lip a little as he turned to stare pointedly at the bed's other occupant. Don't you get that way on nights like this, mate?'
A simple huff of protest from Ozcan, but he didn't actually argue. He shrugged one shoulder and shuffled where he lay, carefully keeping their tall athletic bodies apart. He waved an annoyed hand again. `Why don't you get into your own bed, Jude?' He sounded cross and uncomfortable, and yet Jude saw one fidgety hand slide under the confines of the duvet. They were both ignoring the TV now, the American dialogue a bland soft background noise, whilst Bellingham gave himself a good feel, and Ozcan cleared his throat uncomfortably.
You know the feeling, right?' the Stourbridge teen continued, lowering his voice. That frustration, night before the game, yeah?' He sighed lazily. `I just gotta deal with it. Must be all the hormones still, hey?'
Some of us are grown-ups,' he was informed tartly by his neighbour in the bed, but there was a curious light to Salih's eyes, and his hands had disappeared under the covers. Was he touching himself too? Perhaps. Jude turned his gaze back to the TV, where the lead actress of the film was strutting through a pool party in a bikini. Look at that,' he murmured. `The things we'd do to her, haha.'
A vague, ambivalent noise from Ozcan, but Bellingham ignored him and really squeezed and tugged at the outline of his semi, letting his ankle and calf rub against the other man again, then nudging elbows with him. `Tell me you aren't getting horny too, haha - it's not just me, is it? Pre-match tension...!'
A little grunt from Sal sounded like confirmation. `Something like that.'
Seriously,' Jude said, his confidence swelling like his prick, just feel how hard I'm getting.' And before his teammate could react, he'd taken hold of Salih's hand under the covers and pulled it over, pressing it atop the stiff stretching bulge of his shorts, and laughing quietly as he lay there, angling his prone body slightly towards the other lad. Perhaps Ozcan was just so stunned, but he left his hand there, pressed down against it, and Jude liked the feel of it, a strange hand on his privates again, and he grinned wickedly at the teammate who was six years his senior.
Jesus,' Salih muttered, you weren't joking.'
See,' he chuckled, excitement heightening in his voice and his eyes, just feel that - totally horned up!' He rubbed his hand atop Ozcan's, pressing and pulling the knuckles over his bulge, and licking his lower lip slowly as he enjoyed this unexpected touch - studying the angst in the older lad's eyes, the twitch of his lips between his red-brown beard. But then Salih seemed to remember himself and pull back, tutting and shaking his head, though there'd been enough of a flash of curiosity there to excite and motivate Jude.
`Ridiculous,' the 25-year-old was muttering.
Can't help it,' Bellingham told him, and then he pushed his own boundaries - he reached across the warming space beneath the covers to grab at the front of the man's taut boxer briefs, finding the outline of his erection and laughing as he briefly gripped it, the most contact he'd ever taken with another lad's equipment - but the older player was pushing him away and spluttering his disapproval, commanding him in German to back off and stop it immediately; switching to English, Ozcan bluntly told him Out!' and shoved at him from the side, a redness entering his face and making the sides of his neck scarlet. `Out!'
Jude accepted defeat and slid back, rolling away and out from under, but turning round before collapsing back into his own bed, so that the mound in the front of his bed-shorts was super obvious, and peeling off his training top to expose his tightly toned upper body. Sitting up a little, Sal was frowning deeply at him and his mouth hanging open without the words of approbation. `Just messing,' Jude told the other player reproachfully, before falling into a cooler bed and dragging less body-heated covers over his scantily clad body. He'd pushed it, he'd tried it, but... nah, Ozcan was a traditional kinda lad, good Turkish family, he wouldn't be into this shit like some of those pervy lads in England, the Kanes and Fodens who'd got down on their knees to service him.
For the best, a thin uncertain voice at the back of his mind told him, though his body raged with contrasting sentiments. He'd been craving that taboo for weeks, and he tossed and turned for a comfortable position in bed, listening to the heavy breathing concern of the footballer in the other bed, and the dulled volume of the television. Finally he settled on his side facing the other way, wondering if he ought to mouth a proper apology, but deciding against it - Jude's ego had yet to deflate from the thrills of becoming a World Cup sensation, even in the context of a disinterested Germany.
Dimly, he was aware of the TV turning off and a lamp clicking off too, and he lay there on his side, smirking into the pillow. He didn't feel sorry that he'd teased and challenged Ozcan. There'd been something there, hadn't there? Immediately fatigued and comfortable, he rubbed his tummy and then his bulge, finding the heavy semi where he'd left it, and tempted to just whack it out and play with it properly - but he'd probably get all sorts of disapproval and dismay from the other lad for those antics, so he just lay quite calmly there, softly rubbing himself and wondering how long it would take him to fall asleep. In the dark, he relaxed onto his back, hand still on his bulge, and bare chest rising and falling slowly against the covers - it had been a long day of training and travel and his 6ft1 physique ached for sleep, even if he'd been inappropriately frisky only minutes ago. Left alone, Bellingham could easily have drifted straight into a pretty deep sleep, young and cocky enough to be untroubled by how much he'd just alarmed his roomie.
Except, of course, for the gentle creaking noises of somebody trying not to make any noise at all: the rustle of bedding and the relaxation of a bedspring, the shuffle of socks on carpet, and the audibly controlled little pants of breath moving closer to him across the room. Jude half-opened his sleepy eyes and he smiled up at the vague silhouette in the dark, his vision not quite adjusting enough to make out any detail - but as his brain retreated from the sleepy shutdown it had been considering, he gained enough awareness to nod his long face once, and let out a low breathy chuckle. Then, with one hand, he lifted the edges of his duvet, and in he came: the gently trembling figure of the other man, joining him here in his bed instead, saying nothing as he settled down into a lying position next to him, and placed a trembling hand at his hip.
So, Jude thought, what have I started...?
He could feel the nervous shaking of the other man's body next to him, and he knew it was more than the cold. But he just lay calmly still, refusing to show any tension or excitement of his own, just smirking in the dark, and waiting for the inevitable, which swiftly came... the wandering hand brushing more firmly against his hip, and then roving over the front of the shorts, feeling what they hid. In the dark, he heard Salih's tremorous voice: I don't do this kinda thing.' Quiet and shaky, that tenderness which made him such a likeable lad and a valued friend to Jude. In turn, Jude let out a breathy sigh and just said, All good - give it a good feel, matey.'
They lay there in the second bed in a row, not saying any more, and under the covers, the Turk stroked and prodded at his bulge in the shorts, his clumsy hand exploring the edges, and making Bellingham sigh with happy anticipation. He held back the murmured encouragement, as if saying too much might break a delicate moment, and send the bearded fucker back to his own bed, as prudish and disapproving as he'd clearly pretended to be before. But he did help him out, reaching down and pushing on the waist of the shorts, letting Salih's hand get a proper feel of his hard package, and encouraging him to grip and stroke it more fully. He could hear the deepening rattle of Ozcan's breath at just that, and he smirked more, utterly assured of his own irresistible powers - after all, why should the alpha teen doubt his power, when this latest man seemed to be falling at his feet so easily...? He pictured the Three Lions captain on his knees, those bright glossy eyes and the cum glistening in his beard. And Ozcan's bear was all the fuller.
Next to him, Salih continued to tremble and fail to control his breathing, and the man's hand really explored his waistline and the insides of his thighs and the weighty stiffness within his briefs, before AT LAST, pulling them back, being bolder... and letting it loose, fingers closing about its fat shaft, taking hold of it. Mmmm,' was all Bellingham let out, but he did bring one slow hand up to stroke across the back and shoulders of the other lad, feeling his body heat through his t-shirt, then tickling a bit at his neck. Mmmm,' he moaned again, feeling Salih grip him a little more, and began to pull up and down, too gently.
`I've never done this before,' Salih uttered again, his voice small and distant, even this intimately close; Jude wasn't sure if he did or didn't believe him, but he just moaned in response, and pushed up with his hips a little, encouraging the hand to take fuller control of his full mast black cock, a real handful for the nervous friend.
Is this okay?' came another shaky breath from the 25-year-old, but Jude didn't honour him with words, with reassurances - he felt a selfish pleasure in this, and a truly ego-boosting satisfaction in how easily he had lured Ozcan into helping him out. It hadn't taken much, had it? How long had this handsome prick been eyeing up and thinking about doing this? The prospect of his own attractiveness and sexual dominance flooded and excited Jude just as much as it had in autumn and winter, when he first propositioned Kane and then again when he finally overpowered that generous older man. He thought of the other lads in the sauna after the knockout defeat, when Dier had recruited him to help' their disappointed skipper - Jude's mind had spun and buzzed with that sweaty memory ever since, the knowledge of those other powerful alpha males, all of them delivering their spunk to the greedy slut who led their squad. Amongst his many new fantasies, the 19-year-old saw himself one day wearing that captain's armband - and when he pictured himself leading England to victory, he did not see himself as the one down on his knees in the sauna.
Back in the present, Salih's hand got firmer and more confident, and now lubed with a bit spit, pulling up and down Jude's big cock, jerking it hard and letting the tip rub sensitively against the underside of the duvet. Jude just lay there and moaned, eyes half-closed, and one hand rubbing gently at the other man's tense shoulder muscles, just enough pat and stroke to encourage him and hold him there, but not thanking him or assuring him it was good, just the low drone of `Mmmm' and the occasionally higher sound of pleasure as the pace or angle was perfected.
This, part of him thought, should be enough - this surprising transgression in a lukewarm hotel room, his close Dortmund friend crossing lines for him. Perhaps it really was Ozcan's first time doing something so kinky, he really was shaking like a baby deer. Or perhaps he'd given in before and touched other men like this, other players, it was hard to say. Jude found that he didn't particularly care, and he wasn't ready to settle for this awkward handjob, tingling and exciting but a little hesitant uncomfortable. He needed more. His left hand, resting on the back of Ozcan's neck, began to push and guide, becoming firmer as it met tension and resistance. Come on,' the teenager purred in the dark. It's what plenty of lads have done for me.' Plenty was an exaggeration, but he believed himself as he said it, imagining that all of those burly fuckers in the sauna had bent and noshed him off like their captain: Trippier, Wilson, Grealish, the lot of them!
He pushed down and lifted the covers a bit more and Salih resisted some more, but then gave in, disappearing under the duvet. His mouth was felt first on Bellingham's six pack, kissing down the ridged centre, and then - oh yes - it was on his cock, lips touching his shaft nervously, and those shaky hands roving about his thigh and tummy. Under the covers, he pressed that same imperious hand on the back of his head and pushed his face down into his crotch, making the Turk man inhale his crotch smell, and then open up for the cock, oh yessss. Jude sniggered at the tickle of the man's pretty full beard crossing his skin, but he also shuddered in pleasure, so happy to push his cock into a wet hot mouth again, and to press so firmly down on the back of Sal's head.
Then he threw the covers further back, needing to see it for himself, even in the dim traces of light that remained in their suite. The sounds were enough: the gagging and gobbling, the way he was forcing that inexpert face down against his cock and balls, really filling his mouth and throat, choking him on his manhood. He pushed and pushed and then gave short breaks, letting Ozcan pull back spluttering and catching his breath, and then back down, shoving his cock between those lips and burying it in a mouth that didn't know how to handle it. And Jude groaned more loudly and fully now, the sounds of a man, really taking advantage of Salih's awkward wet gob.
That's it,' he groaned at him, suck it good for me.'
`I've never-'
`Don't care, you're enjoying it now-'
`Mmmph...'
`Fucking choke on it, mate, mmmm, that feels so good!'
At no point did Ozcan quite relax into the task, trembling and tense beside and against him, but Jude was concerned only with his own enjoyment. He thrust up with his hips even as he pressed roughly down on the back of the man's head, fucking his mouth in the darkness, and using his face like a wank-sock. Into his gob he oozed pre-cum and his hard fingers kneaded at the back of his neck, whilst he felt Ozcan's touch rove over his six-pack and up and down his sturdy thighs. Fuck, yes.
No thoughts of the cold now, at least: Jude felt red hot with lust, the insides of his bed ultra-heated by two masculine forms, and fresh sweat beading on his chest and the insides of his legs, and on Salih's neck where he held it in place, thrusting so deep into the back of his mouth that the man really did splutter and choke as he pulled briefly away, gulping down air and almost whimpering until his lips were parted again by that thick veiny monster, Jude's black cock forced into his inexperienced gob. There was only so long this could last: the horny teen had been delaying his climax as best he could, but he lacked such mature willpower, and soon he was convulsing and twitching against his bedding, spilling his load on first the man's tongue, and then over the reddish fur of his beard, and then drops and slicks on his own tummy and the duvet that was falling back into place.
Almost instantly, the heat and presence of Ozcan's body was pulled away from him, and he could just lie there on his sweaty back, limbs spread and lungs sucking in deep bursts of air, his pecs rising and falling even more. A long minute of dizzy gratitude, a spiralling high of orgasm, his cock wet and sensitive and the air rich with his own salty musk; and then he was rolling to the left a little and blinking into the dark to see more. Ozcan was stood between the beds, seemingly with his back to him, and his gulping breaths sounded almost like sobs in the night.
`Fuck's sake,' Jude whispered to himself.
Still dizzy with climax, he got out of the bed, his cock and balls still erect over the lowered waistband of his briefs and shorts, brushing cum-stains against the bum of Salih's boxers as he closed in against him and hugged him from behind. Thanks for that,' he moaned gently, embracing and squeezing the 6ft lad. I needed it.' He squeezed his neck more gently than he had before, giving him a slightly tighter hug. It was good,' he reviewed, sounding dismissive, and then told him, Get into bed, get some sleep. It's all good.' And then, selfish and lazy, the England teenager slid back into his own bed and turned away, riding the wave of his own pleasure into the depths of slumber.
When Salih was quiet and withdrawn the next morning during their slow routines, Bellingham sighed disappointedly to himself and wished all sub men could be as chill and self-accepting as married striker Harry Kane. He himself remained calmly quiet and indifferent, quite happy to pretend that nothing had happened if that was what Salih Ozcan preferred... but it quickly became obvious, passing each other for their showers and ablutions, that the German footballer couldn't even look him in the eyes, and the tall handsome lad kept his head lowered and still had that sami shakiness about him as when he first climbed between their beds and went against his own spoken disapproval.
Bellingham, cocksure and self-satisfied, was having none of this.
Whilst Ozcan was brushing his teeth and staring mournfully into the mirror, clearly full of regret, the youngest Borussia Dortmund hero came in behind him, only half-dressed, and stepped in close. As he had last night in the shadows, he hugged his teammate from behind, slipping a single strong arm about his waist and pressing his big soft package in against his bottom as he hugged him briefly but tightly.
Thanks,' he told him quietly. You're a good friend doing that for me. It was good.'
A stony silence from the other player, their eyes meeting in the mirror.
You don't need to worry,' Jude told him quietly. I won't tell a soul.'
Ozcan spat into the sink, and as he bent down, his strong bottom rubbed a little more against Bellingham's bulge, making him smirk thoughtfully. But as the 6ft man straightened up, he hugged him more tightly from behind, holding him almost like a girl, and nuzzling the tip of his nose in against his neck for a moment. Good boy,' he purred, even though the other midfielder was significantly older than his own teen status, and then he smirked into their reflections. You were good at that, matey. Might let you do it again sometime.' And with that he ruffled his hair from behind and left him silently to it, slipping comfortably back into the room, and telling himself that this was all obvious and inevitable - of course Salih couldn't resist him, couldn't keep his hands off him once invited. He was Jude fucking Bellingham, wasn't he? The future of English football.
'Writer guy' - Premiership Lads on Nifty https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/celebrity/premiership-lads/
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