Part fifty: Valentine's Day
Luke Shaw woke to the ugly buzz of a vibrating phone alarm against the bedside unit, and immediately felt the extra couple of glasses of red wine he had accepted before bed. He scrunched his eyes together, groaned, and reached out to dismiss the alarm as fast as his sleepy fingers could manage before disappearing again into the nest of his warm covers. From the neighbouring bed in their shared room, he heard James Garner's general grunt of disgust at the prospect of getting out of bed, and the pair let out lazy, hungover laughs into their pillows.
Luke thought back on last night. It had been a strange dinner, the gaffer relaxing drinking rules to reward them for their exertions over the week, the 20-man squad indulging in a little too much sangria and wine before the evening was out. At the same time, good old Ole had announced a few cuts to the morning regime, an easier final session at the Marbella fitness camp before their time here was up. Thank god. But still... time to get up.
He decided to be kind to Garner, his roommate for the week, and got up first, traipsing into their en suite to shower and freshen up. Dressed only in a pair of loose-fitting boxer shorts, the 24-year-old stared himself down in the mirror, a little puffy-eyed and washed out looking with tinges of reddish sunburn on his cheeks and nose. First Dubai, and then Marbella; he'd been really pushing himself to up his fitness this winter break. You could see it in his muscle tone, he noted a little vainly, guiltily proud of his efforts. If only you were really doing it for United, he told his reflection bitterly, and not wasting your time trying to impress Harry.
Harry Maguire. That man.
Luke sighed to himself, knocked on the shower, and took a piss. Every time he thought he knew where things might be going with that bloke, it got... Stranger. In the shower, Luke washed his hair and body slowly, enjoying the soothing heat, and thinking about how things had gone yesterday afternoon. It had been... heavy. He couldn't get his head around it: the number of them involved, the intensity of it, the submission of Scott McTominay, the mixed feelings of each dirty bloke involved. He wasn't sure he would be able to make eye contact with some of them at breakfast again, not without picturing their rapturous cum-faces, anyway.
Out of the shower, a towel about his waist, Luke crossed the room to his bed, and picked up his phone, and... aha. A simple text from the girl he'd been dating lately, with an attached bed-head selfie at her dressing table. `Happy valentine's, baby boi xxx'. He stared glumly at what should be a really attractive pic and struggled to care. Sure, she was hot, and interested, and fucking her had felt good, but... He wavered over the reply button, and then dismissed the notification. She could wait. He wasn't in the mood for loved up baby talk at this time in the morning.
A little while later, Shaw picked his way disinterestedly through the hotel's breakfast buffet. For the fifth or sixth time that morning, he found himself blushing awkwardly at memories of yesterday when he reached for the silvery tongs and clashed with Mason Greenwood reaching for the last sausage in the salver. The 24-year-old defender looked at his younger teammate with an awkward expression, thinking about the experiences they had previously shared even before yesterday's innocent. The teenager's cheeks coloured, and he immediately abandoned the buffet with his half-full plate. Luke silently watched him drift over to the corner of one table where he joined little Brandon for a quiet breakfast apart from the main group.
Not for the first time, Luke wondered what if anything was happening with those two. Brandon had confided in him about their fumbles in Williams' bedroom, but he didn't know if that had been a one-off or not. At least Greenwood seemed to have forgiven the local lad for his cruel racism scheme against their Captain. Harry was an untrustworthy prick of an alpha male, Luke mused, but he didn't deserve THAT.
Speaking of which...
`Mornin',' grunted Maguire, filing up behind him along the buffet table. The big man looked worse for wear, his dark hair a tufty mess and bags under his eyes. How much had he swilled away last night over dinner?
Luke gave him a polite but slightly distant smile. Hey.' He looked back at the lone sausage, jabbed it with the tongs, and put it on the bigger guy's plate for him. You should have that, right? Since, you know, every sausage here is yours to play with as you please, right?' Luke gave him a thin-lipped smile, and moved on down the table.
Harry followed him slowly, jabbing at a few other greasy items to add to his plate as they went. They'd been banned from the fry-up end of the buffet all week, but again, rules were relaxed as an end-of-week treat. Luke watched the 6'4 brute pile up his breakfast plate and suppressed a little grin of affection at the giant appetite.
Luke, don't be funny with me,' Maguire mumbled sheepishly. Yesterday was...'
Let's not,' Luke told him gently. He really couldn't be fucked with it. He just didn't have the energy, not today, to talk about their erratic sexual encounters, their complicated dynamic, Harry's fucking need to be the dominant bloke of anyone in a ten-mile vicinity. Fuck it. He gave a dismissive smile to the skipper, turned away from him and went in search of an isolated seat where Maguire couldn't follow and join him. He settled down with his breakfast between a bashful, wary looking Nathan Bishop and a cheerily chatting David De Gea, sheltering between the two goalkeepers to avoid having to see and interact with anyone more... complicated. Sure, Bishop was involved in yesterday's little' incident, but he had looked totally freaked out and was now looking everywhere but at Shaw.
The guys around this table were discussing Valentine's Day and their various Friday night plans to spoil their other halves. Luke listened in, poking at his breakfast, and decided to bite the bullet. He slid out his phone, send his cliché response, and checked if she was still free for the champagne dinner he'd booked them in a fancy rooftop restaurant in Manchester. Of course she would be. This girl was well into him, he was sure, though he wasn't naïve enough to miss why: she had WAG ambition all over her HD brows and lip fillers. Not that Luke had minded any of this on their first few dates.
When David De Gea got up to go and get changed into kit for the training session, so did a couple of others at the table, and suddenly Luke was left in a more solitary position next to the young newbie. He gave Nathan a looking over, appreciating his fresh-faced good looks, and surprisingly full muscles bulging beneath his tshirt. He seemed a nice kid.
You okay, Nathan?' he asked quietly. Bishop gave him a nervous look. Don't panic. Just checking.'
Bishop chewed on a mouthful of toast for a few moments. Er,' he said slowly, is shit like that quite, er, common around here...?'
Luke made a wry smile, shrugged one shoulder, and downed his orange juice. More common than you might have thought,' he said dryly, then leaned in and gave the lad's thick shoulder a slight rub. But don't fret. You can keep away from that sorta nonsense if you want, leave it to the dickheads. If anyone gives you trouble about it, let me know.'
Nathan nodded hesitantly. Luke wasn't sure if the conflicted look on the lad's big open face was because he was deciding whether or not to trust him, or if because the 20-year-old wasn't actually regretting his involved in showering McTominay in their juices. Regardless, Luke left him to his thoughts, wanting to make a call to his family before things got going this morning. As he strode through the hotel's dining hall, he spotted Maguire again, getting second helpings: as he brushed close to him, he realised he wasn't alone, but hunched slightly, talking in a strangely confidential-looking manner with Jesse Lingard. Luke couldn't help but eye them suspiciously as he passed. He had been a little alarmed by jokey Jesse's banter and encouragement this week, though he suspected that Lingard had never expected his playful punishment to take place. Luke could clearly picture the manic surprise on the 27-year-old's face when Scott actually got to his knees in front of Harry's might package...
The two men immediately silent as Shaw passed, and he frowned in half-hidden curiosity at their guilty faces, then walked on. Once out of their sight, he let his torn emotions show on his face, and fought back an outburst of frustration. He avoided chat with the next few tables he passed and made his way out into the gardens by the hotel foyer, letting out a few rushed breaths of hurt once out of earshot of his teammates. For fuck's sake: if he so much as ignored Harry for ten minutes, the big fucker was working his way on another random lad, the first bit of muscle he bumped into... What was wrong with him?!
Luke had to lean against the wall for several minutes to control himself and not to give in to his wavering emotions of late. He could NOT get upset by this. Harry Maguire was an engaged man, and it didn't matter what had gone on between them before, it had to end sooner or later. Once calm enough, he rang his mum, and distracted himself in a fifteen-minute catch-up, listening to family gossip and only saying the vaguest of things about how training had been out here. It seemed hard to comment on it without confiding in her how fucked up his life at United now felt. Yet again, he found himself idly considering his career future as he eventually walked back into the hotel and took the lift upstairs to go put his phone on charge. Should he be considering a transfer in the summer to get away from this lot?
At the end of the second-floor corridor where he and James Garner had been roomed, he stopped in alarm as a familiar but unexpected figure emerged from their shared room. You again,' he mumbled, totally bewildered to find Lingard stepping out of his own bedroom with a shifty look on his face. Can I help you, mate?'
Jesse turned and gave him an oddly bright smile. `Hey! What? No, no...'
Er...' Luke nodded to the hotel room door. Mate...?'
Oh!' The other lad burst out laughing, shrugged his shoulders and tapped his head as if to indicate his silly confusion. Was just looking for Garner, buddy – gaffer wanted to speak to him before training, is all. A few notes from yesterday.'
Shaw stared suspiciously at him, totally unconvinced but unsure what to say. `Er, right,' he responded very slowly and carefully, trying to relax his hostile attitude since he had no idea what he was even suspecting the shifty bloke of doing. He cleared his throat, tried to read Jesse's fixed, distracted expression, and gave up.
`Some mad shit going down yesterday, huh?' Lingard asked bluntly.
`Yup,' Luke agreed a bit dismissively.
`Kinda fun, though, right?' A sly little wink from Lingard.
Luke ignored this question, gave him a slightly impatient expression, and muscled his way past him to get to his door. Lingard chirped his goodbyes and moved on down the corridor, and Luke watched him go curiously, partly at the oddness of finding him here, and partly in fascination that the bloke had been left so sexually curious by yesterday's goings on. He found himself wondering if Scott had been so... awakened, although Luke was finding it hard to think of either Lingard, the instigator, or McTominay, the slut, without a huge pinch of resentment. But that was silly: why couldn't he admit to himself that the real problem in this dynamic was Maguire himself?
He let himself into the room, and looked quietly about it: it looked totally the same, undisturbed. What the fuck had Lingard been doing in here, since Garner was clearly nowhere to be seen? He rested his back against the door, stared about the room until he felt he was going mad looking for some sign of disturbance, and shook off the wary paranoia that had been settling on him all morning long. Time to relax and enjoy the morning's football.
The morning passed uneventfully. The training session was light and relaxed, as much time spent goofing around and posing for media photos as kicking a ball. Luke found himself relaxing into it. As long as he avoided much contact with Maguire or any of the guys from yesterday, he could ease himself back into the focused mood he'd found earlier in the break, in Dubai and here. At the lazy lunch that followed, he ended up sat in a quiet corner next to young Brandon, who felt protective of since their secretive fumble that time. He resisted the urge to quietly quiz him on his friendship with Mason, and instead let him talk on about his actual girlfriend, suppressing a few smirks at the unmentioned competition she clearly faced.
And then was the long, dozy coach ride to the airport in Marbella itself. No banter on that journey, just a stale, warm atmosphere of exhaustion and lingering hangover. Energy being conserved for the various romantic or family plans lined up for that night or the weekend. They would all be back in training by Saturday afternoon, with the Chelsea game coming Monday, and the battle to near the Top 4.
At the airport, Luke idled along quietly, heavy bag strap on one shoulder, headphones on, not really paying much heed to anything, since they were herded through these travel situations like children rather than skilled professionals. It came as a shock to him when he started fumbling through the side pocket of his kit bag that his passport was nowhere to be found. He stared down into the empty compartment, pushed his hand around it again, and then gawped. He found he was being stared at by the Spanish border guard behind the counter, and by Juan Mata, ahead of him in the queue. The lady in uniform barked a few quick questions in Spanish, which went over Luke's head, but Mata translated.
`Your passport, Luke?'
It was in here,' Shaw murmured. It was definitely in here...' He heard Mata translate or mediate something to the guard, then look back doubtfully at him. He just stared at his bag, lost. He dumped it on the counter and started searching through its other pockets, while the female guard glared impatiently at him. Mata said a few more things in Spanish, presumably apologising or explaining, then hurried on down the process. In his place game the gaffer, followed and loomed over by Harry Maguire now. Luke stared at them, baffled. My passport,' he said apologetically, I can't see it fucking anywhere in here... I swear it was...'
A hasty conference took place. More impatient Spanish and a few half-hearted English phrases from the guard, who was joined now by two more members of airport security. A few annoyed comments from Solskjaer about the flight time and the need to get everyone checked in ASAP. Maguire, brusque and a bit hostile, `helped' Luke by shoving him aside a bit and rifling through his bag as if not trusting him to search his own possessions. Luke hung back sulkily, losing patience with the situation, and knowing with wilting confidence that he had DEFINITELY left his passport in THAT compartment, all through the trip...
Right,' Harry barked officiously, this isn't happening, is it...' He gave Luke a weird, stern look, then ignored him and turned back to the gaffer. Here's a plan,' Luke heard him announce in that authoritative way he had, we'll just have to get Shaw here back to the hotel. He must have left his fuckin' passport somewhere there. I'll stay with him. You guys just get on with checking in. Yeah, yeah... I know. We won't make this flight, not at this rate. But Shaw and I can just get a later time out... No, I don't mind, I really don't. I'm captain, I should stay with him. Okay.' And as this largely one-sided conversation drew to a close, Ole gave an annoyed look at Luke, agreed to the scheme, and shook Maguire's hand gratefully, then disappeared down the set of counters to follow the others. Shaw stared after him, fuming and confused. He didn't know what the fuck was going on, and he hated how much Harry had just overruled and ignored him in this exchange, like he was some idiot tagging along with them, untrusted and unreliable. To stir things more, the Spanish guards gave them a frosty look and asked them in suddenly competent English to please back away from the passport check if they were not able to travel.
The pair of them drifted away, bags over shoulders, and Luke muttered to himself, thinking through his every action this week and trying to place the missing passport. Once they were halfway across the big, glossy terminal, Harry slowed down beside him, silent. Luke slowed his steps and turned to look back at him crossly and watched as the United captain reached into one baggy pocket of his jogger bottoms and removed the little maroon rectangle of identification. Not one passport in his hand, but two.
Luke stared at him, jaw dropping a little. `Harry...?'
`Lingard robbed it for me earlier,' the tall Yorkshireman said in a low, almost bashful voice, like a child in trouble, not quite meeting Luke's accusing eyes.
I knew he was up to something!' Shaw snapped, leaning forward and quickly snatching his passport out of Harry's big fingers. It was crossing his mind that if they hurried now they could get past those smug guards, check in and make it onto the organised flight after all, and be back in Manchester in a couple of hours, and... Another line of thinking shoved this one out of the way, and he stood there in front of his taller, older teammate, his beloved and sometimes-loathed captain. You kept me grounded here deliberately,' he said slowly, a penny dropping.
Harry nodded his big head, a stern and awkward smile spreading on his features. Yes,' he confirmed in a simple grunt, yes... I did.' Their eyes met properly, and Luke matched his half-smile.
The airport hotel at the other side of the car park was a flimsy warren of ugly wallpaper and faded local photography in rickety frames, a world away from the slick luxury of the resort the United team had been checked in for the duration of the week. Luke barely gave any of this décor a second look as he hurried up the staircase and down the passage, his bag bouncing at his back on its taut strap. In front of him, Harry stared at the door number on the key in his hand, and counted them down the hallway: 10, 11... 12.
Maguire turned and gave him an oddly jolly look, then shoved key in lock, and barged open the thin door to this last room with one shoulder. He shrugged off his bag and tossed it through the doorway, then reached out his other arm, grabbed the collar of Luke's thin tshirt, and pulled him forward and through the threshold in one lunge. Luke gasped as he was pulled in then shoved with as thud to the thin wall, Harry pressing close to him and pushing lips to lips. Luke swallowed his gasp and responded with his own soft lips, shivering to the rough touch and feeling strong fingers cross his shoulders and neck. He realised the door was still swinging open on its rusty hinges and shoved it closed behind them with a nervous yelp of laughter.
Harry, so reckless,' he murmured weakly, pulling away and quickly surveying the basic room, its cheap-looking double bed taking up more of it than was comfortable to navigate, the thin doorless archway into the cupboard-sized bathroom' off it. It was an ugly little box, nothing like the spacious white chambers they'd been occupying up at the complex...
Harry grabbed at him again, throwing long muscled arms about his torso and pulling him into a gentler cuddle away from the doorway, reaching down to kiss him on the brow. `Harry,' was all he could get out aloud, totally overwhelmed, as he had been since they left the airport behind thirty minutes ago. Hardly daring to open his eyes, he rested his face into the curve of Harry's neck and chest and clung to the fabric of his red polo shirt.
Tenderness quickly gave way to lust as he felt those firm muscles beneath the fabric. Luke tugged roughly at it upwards and Harry parted his arms obligingly: up and off went the polo shirt, and Luke leaned in to kiss at the pale muscle, freckly from sunbathing this week, and found tight little nipples with his lips, making Maguire giggle and squirm and kiss him more on the brow and scalp. One of Harry's hands was grabbing at his hair and the other was pulling up his tshirt from behind. Luke parted from the man's body, reluctantly, to allow his own top up off, so they were both shirtless as they kissed again and rubbed muscular flesh.
`You've really been working out,' Maguire grunted in a voice so dazed and detached that it sounded more casual observation than lusty compliment; but the big roaming hands were compliment enough as they traced Luke's swelling biceps and ran down the smooth toned skin of his back. Harry's lips and tongue hit his neck and Shaw threw his head back with a long groan. And then the strong hands were holding him more firmly and, fuck, throwing him roughly aside... the bed squeaked dangerously as Luke's body hit it, and he couldn't hold in his laughter of excitement. It creaked and strained more as Harry leapt on atop him, bearing down on him like a sexy predator with more hot kisses and groping touches.
'Oh god,' Luke groaned to the ceiling, which when he opened his eyes, he saw was ugly and peeling and stained with damp. This hotel and this room were manky as fuck, but... what did any of THAT matter? Right now he was in the lap of heaven. `Oh god, Harry,' he whined, as one big hand pushed down the front of his joggers and the other cradled the side of his neck. He reached up and down Harry's muscled flanks and cried out his name over and over.
Be as loud as you want,' Maguire grunted provocatively. Who fucking cares?!'
`Oh shit,' moaned Shaw at this, feeling unleashed. He tingled as his cock was pulled from his boxers, and began reaching desperately down to try and reciprocate, pushing and fingering at the tight waistband of the other man's jogger bottoms and underpants below. The bed creaked and groaned beneath their shifting wait as two different shades of grey jogging pants were pushed and pulled down their furry legs and kicked away from socked ankles. Harry rose up on his knees more, pulled at Luke's young body like a toy and dragged him further up the bedding towards the mass of pillows for his comfort before bearing down again with fresh kissing.
Luke stared at the ceiling again, and then twisted round to look his lover in the face, trying to focus his eyes and mind. You... you had this planned?' he stammered between hot breaths, feeling his cock squeezed and pulled inside his black boxer briefs with agonising intensity. You... booked this place...?'
Harry looked suddenly less aggressive, more bashful, but he gave a scoffing lass and planted a rough kiss against Luke's lips before muttering his answer. `Yeh... for fuck's sake... of course I did... Happy Valentine's Day, lad...' And then he was kissing at Luke's throat, running his thick tongue over his Adam's apple and almost biting him on the sharp jawline, tickling against his beard.
But,' Luke murmured, trying to get his head around it all, I thought...'
Stop fucking thinking,' begged Maguire roughly. Stop TALKING... just... enjoy.' And with that, Harry moved down, his agility surprising for his height and weight, as he disappeared downwards, kissing and licking at Luke's mostly smooth chest, navigating the little patch of thin hair and winding down past his naval. Luke looked down, as surprised as he had been last time that this beast of a man brought his mouth anywhere near a cock: Luke's thick erection sprung free from his pants and went straight into Harry's mouth. Oh dear god...
Harry's big head bobbed hungrily and he hunched there halfway down the bed, his back muscles tensed and visible as he leant in to nosh slowly on Luke's prick. Shaw reached down for his neck and shoulders and stroked the back of his head, grinding his own head back into the pillows and whining his pleasure as that big clumsy mouth worked about his dick. He could feel clumsy teeth brush his shaft every other moment, so unused to sucking was Maguire, but it didn't matter... that rough tongue on his bell-end, and the slurping sound of Harry's hungry gob going down his meat... wow. Fuck. This was... unreal...
Oh god, Harry,' he panted loudly, that is... Oh, man...'
And Maguire went down further, the strain obvious on his inexperienced face. His big hands stretched their way up Luke's front as his face buried in his crotch. My turn,' Shaw cried out, my turn... let me suck you... Harry, your big big dick...'
Harry rose up with a gasp of breath. No,' he snapped, this IS your turn, baby...' And back down he went, and Luke just stared in shock as the previously selfish brute took his lips and tongue to his throbbing cock. Oh god, this was so new and... special. Yesterday was forgotten. That dark and dangerous night of Harry's beating and mugging, forgotten. None of it mattered. Dan, Mason, Brandon... NONE of it mattered. Luke held the big head between his parted thighs and just groaned out noises rather than words.
Eventually, Maguire rose up, drooling from his bottom lip and gasping for air. He smirked across the space at the younger player, and reached down to pull slowly on Luke's saliva-slicked member whilst licking his big tongue out across his upper lip and letting out a dirty chuckle. Now,' Harry instructed confidently, now you can have your taste...' And with that he rolled onto his side and began to push down at his white trunks until his mighty erection swung out against the bedding. Luke scrambled over the duvet for it, pulling his body alongside the bigger guy's, and pushing his face upside down into that well-endowed crotch. He parted his lips greedily and took in as much as he could, too much, almost choking on its girth as he plunged onto it and heard Maguire's instant growls of approval.
Luke lost himself in this for minute after minute, holding on to the big hairy thighs above and below his face and pulling his lips back and forth in quick circling motions, enjoying the length and girth of that monster cock, still the biggest he had seen, never mind tasted. As he did so, he felt Harry, lying oppositely parallel, rubbing at his front and down to his thighs and pawing at his cock and balls, and then reaching around to prise at his arse cheeks. Luke willingly lifted and parted his legs more to allow this as he blew him.
But then he really jolted in surprise: Harry's mouth had gone down not back to his cock or even his loaded balls, but to his gooch, pressing right between his thighs and making him squeal in shock at the wet sensation down there on his taint. He could barely maintain his sucking motion for the surprise of it and he pulled away from Maguire's quivering meat, holding tightly to his thighs, and feeling his buttocks pulled open and that tongue going... Whoa! Where the fuck had Harry seen THIS done? Bloody fucking hell... As the tongue ran into his crack, Luke contorted his sturdy frame in newfound ecstasy, a totally new sensation and pleasure gripping him. It was only after several minutes more of this furtive tonguing that he could control himself enough to lean in and carry on sucking Harry off. And so it went for sweaty minute after sweaty minute: curled together in this 69, Shaw sucking cock as much as he could, and Harry seeming to really bury his face in between plump downy cheeks.
When it stopped, Luke just gasped and whimpered, weak with pleasure and unable to suck any more, so breathless with it. Again he felt hands roughly all over him and he was tugged back around and shoved across the creaking, buckling surface of this cheap hotel bed, onto his back once more, and his thick thighs pushed up and apart so that Harry's face could dart down between them and... OH FUCK,' he screamed, feeling the tongue against his crack again, but against his HOLE now, prodding and pushing at it... Oh fuck, fuck,' he moaned and panted. `Fuck me Harry, FUCK ME... Please... I'm begging...' He clawed at the bedsheets and felt his untouched cock ache. Harry's fingers pushed further at his spread cheeks and the tongue flicked in and out. OH MY GOD... Was he screaming this out loud or just in his head now? Impossible to say...
Only when Luke's twitching hole was wet and loose did Harry pull away from it and take his own rod in hand, and press forward. Soon, Harry's big muscular bulk was hanging right over him and thrusting forward, his thick bell-end being pressed between Luke's reddened butt cheeks. Shaw braced himself, knowing he'd just about taken this once, remembering the pain and the struggle, but... this felt different already... he was so relaxed, so lubed up... And Harry was being more careful, gentle. The big man pushed his cock very slowly and surely forward and, as he did, he leaned in to kiss Luke's chest just below the nipples. Their hands found each other and fingers interlocked, and Maguire's lips made their way up over soft pecs and to the neck and then to the lips and... Just as their mouths connected, a twist of Harry's hips pushed that thick veiny dick inside Luke's arsehole to begin fucking him.
`Oh fuckkk...'
`Take it, baby... take it...'
`OH HARRY...'
`LUKE...'
Inch after inch pushed inside. Luke could feel himself open to it. This was insane. Until now he had been vaguely and surprisingly aware that he had experienced fucking, but... that rough attempt in the Christmas frost, that had been awful and abortive... and the slippery sweaty fun on date night', well... he had just felt so hot and sore and confused... but THIS... Oh sweet baby jesus,' was all he could cry out, the full muscular bulk of the other man bearing down on him, and more of that meat sliding into his hole. He threw his arms about Harry's broad back now, clinging to him and surrendering his body. And with that, Maguire between to fuck him, really FUCK him, thrusting forward over and over. Each shoving movement was firmer and heavier than the last. Luke could barely hold in his screams of it, even as Harry bit at his lip and snarled mouth to mouth.
As Harry pressed his full length into Luke's tight passage, the bed finally gave up its fight with gravity. The splitting of cheap plywood, the snapping of metal springs, the muffled crushing noise of mattress... They ignored it all as the bed snapped beneath them and Harry Maguire pounded the beautiful defender into the floor beneath with a steady rhythm of dominant power. Both men's grunts got louder and rougher and more garbled, until Harry roared out his impending orgasm: `Fuck, fuck... I'm gonna... Oh Luke... I wanna shoot in you...'
DO IT,' begged Shaw, please do it...'
`OH Luke...'
`Yes, Harry, yess...'
`Luke, I... I LOVE YOU... Ohhhh...'
And Luke felt the hot squirt inside him and the sustained force of Harry's final thrust, pressing him into the messy squash of mattress and bedframe beneath. He let out a long shaky breath, pulled Harry's sweaty back to him with both arms, and enjoyed the wet heat inside him. The big man's words echoed inside his head and his eyes rolled in ecstasy. Harry was slowly pulling out of him, but even as he did, he was reaching for and wanking his own still-hard dick. Luke could hardly believe how much physical pleasure was being allowed him: his ring tingled with the slow retreat of Maguire's erection even as his dick was beat furiously at the front.
He opened his eyes, looked down into Maguire's face, saw the wild need to please. And so he took control, and slid his fingers into Harry's rough dark hair, and pushed that big face downwards. Come on,' he urged in a slurring pant, you can... taste it...' Harry's lips closed about his nob once more, and it only took a few more strokes. Harry was wanking him at the base and swirling his tongue about the tip all at once, and in seconds, Luke came. He stared intensely down his own body as he shot inside that hungry gob, seeing how new and scary this was for Maguire, but how he went for it anyway, swallowing each drop and only slurping upwards once he was sure it was over.
They hugged their bodies together and rolled over a little. Around the shattered bedframe groaned and snapped some more, and the mattress fully slumped to the floor of the poky, run-down bedroom. Luke let his eyes flutter open once more to look at the hideous ceiling, the peeling wallpaper, the half-open curtains, the cracked mirror over the tiny dressing table... And he burst out laughing at it all, a happy, triumphant laugh.
Harry,' he giggled hysterically, what the fuck...?'
Soon after this, they must have napped, simultaneously sliding into satisfied mid-afternoon sleep, and waking more or less at the same time. Not quite the same time: Luke woke to find Harry, whose chest he was resting heavily against, their bodies intertwined in the smashed up bed, staring thoughtfully down at him from the propped pillows.
Hey,' he gurgled sleepily. I think we might have been a bit rough there, big man.'
I dunno what you mean,' smirked Maguire. He shifted his body a little to hold Luke more tenderly in the tangled duvet and creased droop of mattress. I'm as gentle as a spring breeze, me.' Another dirty little laugh, from both of them. `How do you feel, Luke...?'
Shaw suppressed another laugh, keeping his voice low and intimate. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't sore,' he said, and saw the note of concern in Harry's eyes, but... I feel fucking great, Harry. I do. This was...'
`Insane?'
`Beautiful.'
They lay there quietly awhile longer. Through the single-glazed windows of the Spanish hotel room, the noises of the airport brought a disappointing stain of reality to the scene: the dull roar of a plane taking off, the honks and growls of traffic in the car park, the shouting of a family somewhere beneath this first-floor window. Luke thought it through: he was supposed to be landing in Manchester soon and in a matter of hours, meeting his date for dinner. What the fuck was HARRY meant to be doing at that time, with his fiancée...?
`Are we staying the night?' he dared to ask in a voice that betrayed his nervousness. There was no immediate answer and he rolled onto his side so they could look at each other while they spoke. He ran his fingers back and forth over one of Harry's pecs.
I can't, Luke,' Maguire muttered. I'm sorry. I just can't...'
`Your fiancée...'
My daughter,' the other man pointed out. I need to be home to them, Luke. I'm so sorry.'
Of course it wasn't the answer the 24-year-old wanted to hear right now, lying here, but the tone of it... he could hear the hurt and conflict in the man's voice, could hear what he wanted. And that, for now, was enough. He stopped his stray stroking fingers and nodded understandingly.
Of course,' he said. So... do you have our flights booked too...?'
Oh, yeh. Sorted it all out before we'd even left Manchester Airport, buddy. It was... Well. It was all gonna be a surprise. Which, er, I guess it still was, so...' A bashful laugh and expression that was just far too fucking cute on this brash giant next to Luke. I hope it was worth it,' Maguire said in a voice of dangerous hope.
Luke squeezed his leg that lay over Harry's and leaned in a little closer. Are you kidding?' he murmured to him. It's... It's everything I've wanted, for months. I was so angry at you, yesterday,' he added, regretfully. `I was a prick.'
`No, you weren't...'
I do think I get it,' Luke thought aloud. You just have to... I mean, you need to... dominate. And you had to do your captain thing, there. I get it. I just... I couldn't see it, couldn't bear it.' He let out the emotional truth as sincerely as he could bear. `I wish I could have you all to myself,' he said hotly.
You think I've fucked another guy?' Harry whispered. You think I've sucked another guy?' He leaned his head over and kissed Luke's cheek very softly. You DO have me, Luke. You really do. And you... You're... mine. Right?' Luke nodded a little. That... that girl from your Instagram...'
`She means nothing.'
`Good.'
Luke met his eyes and they lay there in more silence, bodies clammy and stale. None of this quite made sense, he knew. So, he wasn't allowed to date this girl, and have anything to do with her, because he was... Harry's? And yet Harry needed to go back to his beautiful fiancée and his baby daughter, and that was okay, but... None of it made sense, but did he really care? He could still feel yesterday's bitter sting of envy, and he knew he would lie in bed tonight raging at the thought of this beautiful beast sleeping next to another, and yet, still... This was a love more passionate than he'd ever imagined, and it didn't need to make sense. Not yet.
`So what time is our flight?' he asked, not wanting any more serious talk now.
`Er... not for another couple of hours... baby.'
`Right. Hmm. Well... do you think we can go another round... baby?'
Harry smirked at him, and Luke smiled with pure pleasure, and they both giggled. Luke reached up and plucked a single kiss before whispering his next question. `What will we break this time...?'
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!