Part sixty-two: Dier Straits
Eric Dier let the office door fall shut behind him and stood still in the corridor for a moment to recover himself from the meeting.
He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. The tall 26-year-old footballer stood there relaxing his big shoulder muscles for a moment more before taking another step. All things considered, it hadn't been too bad a dressing down after last night's antics, but it had a strong feel of unfinished business to it. There had been an ominous tone to the final comments of the long discussion in there, and Dier knew there would be more to be said on the matter: he was mentally calculating how many games he might be forced to miss, or what other measures the board might take to publicly condemn his aggressive behaviour in the stadium.
Last night, he'd seen red: seeing his younger bro almost in a fight in the stands had been too much for him after the turbulent loss to Norwich. Eric rarely let his temper burn like that, especially with such an audience, but he'd been unable to stop himself. He was just glad it had gone no further. What if he'd actually the smacked the stupid `fan' shouting abuse at his poor younger brother...? It had come close to blows, and only the guy's sycophantic panic and flaky change of attitude had prevented fists getting involved. 6'2 muscular Eric bursting off the pitch and up to his face had been enough to shut up the abusive prick.
In the meeting room, faced with not only Mourinho and his assistant manager, but the Chairman and the club's PR manager, he had felt like a naughty schoolkid who'd been in a fight in the playground. He'd sensed their level of empathy and he knew José had made some public comments in his defence, but still... There had been much quoting from the `code of conduct' in his contract, much talk of the club's high reputation, and so on... And that's without taking into account the England national team, Dier suddenly thought to himself, wondering how this little blow-up might affect his standing at that level too... Oh, fuck.
`Eric...'
He hadn't realised he wasn't alone out here in the broad waiting room passage between the highest offices of the Tottenham Hotspur hub of management. No expense seemed to have been spared on this suite of offices in the depths of the club's luxurious new stadium. To Eric's right, a curve of plush waiting chairs were angled, and in the centre of this row, his young Irish colleague was waiting to be seen.
A little dazed from the intense grilling he had just undergone, Dier looked his way in mild surprise, and gave him a gentle nod. Troy,' he said, didn't see you there, pal.' He rubbed a big hand over his face and sighed. `How goes it?'
The tall 18-year-old got up from his seat to join him. He was in a glossy black tracksuit and fiddling anxiously with the zip, his chiselled young features lined by his short dark stubble. There was a very concerned look on the lad's face and it took Dier a minute to realise it was partly for him. He nodded vaguely back towards the office door behind him, and shrugged.
Was it okay?' Troy asked quietly. Are you in much trouble?'
Parrott had looked as shocked as anybody else last night, Eric reflected, shocked and worried to see a more violent and heated version of himself burst out at the most unfortunate and public of moments. Dier felt a twinge of shame, hating that younger teammates like this lad would see him in that light. He prided himself on a level head and a friendly manner, a total professional and not your average footballing yob. Well, he dreaded to think how the newspapers were characterising him today!
Oh, I dunno,' he told Troy. It was... intense.' He gave him a grateful smile. `It was what I deserved. I let myself go last night, and I'm... yeah, I'm ashamed of it. Sorry you had to see that, kid.'
Troy frowned, and Eric thought it was at the patronising epithet for a second, but then saw the flash of anger in the lad's eyes. Nah,' Troy said firmly, you did right. That cunt should not have been chatting shit in the stands. I'm glad you confronted him!'
Eric wavered. Er, well, yeah maybe, but – I was out of order, mate.' He reached and patted a hand on the shoulder of Troy's tracksuit top. I'm meant to keep a level head in this brick up here, kid. Seriously, I was a dick. I should have let it be dealt with in a proper way, not... Who did I think I was?' He shrugged his big shoulders and sighed. `What are you doing in here, anyway? No training today, you muppet.'
Troy's eyes flitted from him to the office door. `Er, I have a meeting too,' he admitted.
Eric started at this. `Oh, what about?'
The Irishman grimaced. `Can only assume about me fucking up the whole game...'
What?!' Dier demanded and almost laughed. He patted and squeezed that shoulder again. Troy, mate, you only came on in the 96th minute, so...'
`You might have been starting fights, but at least you scored your penalty,' Parrott muttered awkwardly, lowering his gaze. Behind them, the office door opened once more, and Mourinho's deputy poked his head around the doorframe. Eric followed Troy's eyes over to the old Portuguese bloke beckoning him over. The guy vanished back inside to await Parrott's arrival and the youngster began walking over with a world-weary sigh and a look of dread on his face.
Hey,' Eric said firmly, barring his path for a second. If they give you any shit, tell them where to go,' he urged. `You came out and you did your best, you didn't have much to work with! And so what if you missed a penalty... penalties is penalties!'
You NEVER miss yours,' Troy pointed out with a hint of envy. I ruined my FA cup appearance there, Eric, I know I did.' Dier could see just how worried the teen was, and remembered his own early days in his teens, when every game seemed a precious chance to prove something. His soft spot (and occasionally hard spot) for the Dublin kid pushed him on and he swung his arm round to give him a very brief hug.
Parrott, go in there and see what they want, but don't go in looking guilty and sick. You are a fucking little legend. Didn't you hear the fans when he pulled you on in the end? They're gagging to see your talents. Last night was just the beginning. You hear me...?' Troy nodded, unconvinced. Now get in there. Give them your Irish charm and see what's happening.'
The teen looked scared but grateful, and Eric gave him a firm, optimistic smile then patted him on the back as he headed in. Dier watched him go, tutted, and adjusted his own baggy open hoody over his tight tshirt. Stripped of Troy's brief company, his thoughts turned inevitably back to his own intense meeting and the matter at hand. Family, it had always been his weak spot. He and his siblings were very close, and he'd been unable to bear seeing his brother getting verbally abused on his behalf. Jesus, what were people coming to?!
Eric left the unnerving space of the waiting room behind, its rich carpet and display cabinets, where the trophies might go at another club. It was a frustrating space of corporate sheen, the sort of branding he knew he'd jeopardised with his behaviour last night. He stomped his trainers down the hallway and down to the next passage, where wall-length windows looked down into the stadium below. He traipsed along the length of these, looking glumly out into the bright early spring sunshine filling the grounds. He spied the very spot where he'd burst over the barriers and sped up the sloping terrace to intervene... Regret wasn't QUITE the right word, to be honest. He knew that given the same chance, he'd probably do the same. Family first. But still... Now came the consequences.
A little buzz in the baggy side pocket of his open hoody caught his attention.
Text from Harry, of course... "How did it go, babe? Xxx"
The cheesy language and three kisses sent the usual thrill of comfort through him. He loved how gradually expressive and affectionate messages had become between them, even though in person there was still something so reserved and wooden about the England captain. It was always the eyes that betrayed the emotion in that face, Eric knew now. But still, the texts helped.
"Dunno H... they were nice enough... kno Im in trouble, but dunno how much"
And then, after a pause, "Miss u".
The repy was fast. "Miss u 2. Lots. Few days now xxx"
Three again. The charmer. Eric let out a quiet chuckle to himself. He thought about the early days, when it had been rough and sporadic. Those first fumbles in the Russian summer heat had been so surprising, and ironic, against a backdrop of Putin-led homophobia. Neither of them had really known what was going on, although Dier had been more gradually conscious of his bisexuality before making his first moves on Harry... certainly more conscious than Harry himself, that was. Kane still looked surprised now, sometimes, when they woke up together after a rare overnight. Eric would slowly slide into consciousness and find his big beautiful man staring timidly at him across the bed, as if unable to believe what they were up to.
It was a relationship, that was for sure, but it was hard to label or define. Part of Eric always felt it was doomed. After all, Kane was married, and the notion that he might ever leave his wife had never once come up between them; Dier wouldn't dare. And yet as the months continued to roll by, the closeness and passion of their meetings just climbed and climbed. Eric was always waiting for the dulling of it, the sudden lapse in their desire for one another. But nope. Even their recent spat had simmered with mutual lust and affection: he'd never been 100% faithful to Kane, if he was honest, he felt justified by the existing of Mrs fucking Kane, after all. But he'd always been very careful... what Big Harry didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?
Delle fucking Alle. One of Eric's best mates, and they'd had a couple of fumbles long before that fateful summer when he connected with Kane. In truth, Dier had thought Dele was just drunk when things happened years ago, so it had been a head-turning shock to find his pal still held a torch for him now! OF COURSE he'd given in to it... He was only human. But Kane finding out, seeing them, well... He'd never felt so awful and guilty in all his life. Things were fixed now, though. More or less.
Thanks to... Eric turned his head slowly to the left just as the other player rounded the corner and joined him on this broad, sunlit passage with its glorious view. Troy was strolling along with a surprised look on his face, scratching at his stubble and staring at his feet. Eric stared at him and thought about that near-miss in his bedroom: his silly recruitment of his gorgeous youngster and then the way he had helped to bring Kane back into Eric's arms. What a sweet young guy.
`So?' Dier demanded, alerting Troy to his presence.
Raised thick eyebrows. `Oh, hey. You waited for me?'
Er, well, not deliberately, but... `Of course – was bit worried about you. What did they say?'
Parrott whistled out his surprise. `They wanted to thank me for stepping up at short notice. Can you believe that? I well thought I was in trouble, and... Well, they were just saying nice things and kinda implying I might come on in the next game, even, so...' He tailed off and seemed to remember Eric's own predicament, and his awkwardness was as charming as his usual confidence. Eric chuckled and patted him on the arm.
`Good stuff, kid.'
Sorry,' Troy said. Didn't mean to go on. I know you've got it tough today, man.'
I'll be okay,' Eric assured him. I've been in scrapes before. I just need to keep my head down, let it blow over.' He thought about the ominous vagueness with which his meeting had ended, but pushed this dread down; partly for Troy's benefit, but mainly for his own survival. See, I told you they wouldn't be criticising you for ONE penalty,' he added, and gave a playful punch to the slender striker's arm. Come on, let's get out of here.'
`Oh – er, where are we going?'
They sat opposite each other in the booth of the hipster diner five minutes from Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, and the teenager slurped with stereotypical volume on his chocolate milkshake. Eric smiled to watch him, lips curled about his paper straw, seeing the frothy tache forming in the dark Irish stubble above Troy's lip. This one could be too fucking cute when he wanted to be. A slight stirring in the faded denim of Eric's jeans, but he suppressed it like his career worries: he HAD to be a good boy now, he'd PROMISED. No more little secrets, no more fussing about, no more...
Harry still had a fucking Mrs Kane though, didn't he? The voice at the back of his mind was unhelpful to say the least. It also decided to point out how nice Parrott smelled this morning, some obscure aftershave washing off him in the dull shabby chic interior of the little diner.
`What?' Troy asked him uncomfortably.
`Oh, just...' He leaned over, pushed a thumb across the upper lip, and wiped some choco froth from the 18-year-old footballer's facial hair. He sat back, smiled, and licked his own thumb clean, so that Troy let out a gruff little laugh at his faux flirtation. (Definitely faux.)
`Thanks! Ha ha. So, er, where did you say Kane was at the minute...?' There was that telltale knowing look on the Irish lad's face when he said the name, as usual. A sort of clumsy attempt to sound casual and hide his secret knowledge, whilst subconsciously signalling his eager complicity to anyone who could read a bit of body language. Troy's enthusiasm for life was so attractive to be around, Eric thought wistfully. He was hardly an old man, but 18 seemed forever ago!
Family trip,' Dier said in a bored tone that revealed his private resentment. Down on south coast, somewhere. Well, he can only slave away in physio so many hours... Makes sense. Family man, huh.'
Troy leaned in slightly, bunching his shoulders, and winked. `Wasn't such a family man when we were spit-roasting him on your bed, was he?' he said with a sleaze that was all the filthier and funnier coming from his boyish face. The teen leaned away, sniggering to himself, and Eric laughed deeply, shaking his head.
Behave,' he said with playful warning. Another little stirring in his jeans. Troy took another slurp, and left a big chocolatey smear on his upper lip (was it deliberate, the little slut?). Eric had to look away, shaking his head, and make some serious mental admonishments to himself. As if to control his own behaviour, he sat back in the creaking baby-blue leather of the seat and took out his phone to re-read the last message from Kane. "Well treat urself this afternoon, look after urself – don't let them get u down baby xxx" – his boyfriend's image of him treating himself' perhaps didn't include hanging out with a handsome young stud who had shared their bed, but here he was.
Sorry,' Parrott said then with contrived sincerity. Don't mean to disrespect him.'
Dier just chuckled at this. `You can say what you like, you little sleaze-bag,' he said warmly.
`Do you think I'm sleazy?!' hissed Troy with a tiny speck of blush in each cheek.
Well,' Dier mused, you were quick to whip your nob out when things got tense. Do you reckon every situation can be fixed by getting your tool out...?' He watched the colour rise in the teen's face, and smirked back at him. `Mind, it is YOUR tool we're talking about, so...'
Troy looked about the quiet diner with a nervous titter, leaning forward a bit again and taking more chocolate milk in. `Your, er, good friend seemed to like it, anyway!' he jibed hesitantly. He blushed more at his own joke, as if he'd gone too far.
Dier smiled, enjoying the banter and the lad's discomfort. He did, actually. He's mentioned it a couple of times.' He could see the mixed egotism and alarm this provoked. Yeh, I'm not kidding... enough to make a bloke jealous, actually! Haha. Jokes. About the jealousy, not the mentions...'
`Seriously? God, that's weird.'
`Why?'
`Dunno. Just... is.'
Eric smirked, leaned over with one arm, and again wiped sweet froth from the lad's lip and licked it clean. He paused self-consciously and realised how this might look, but the place really was quiet and nobody was looking to their corner booth at all. He laughed at his own caution and rested the thumb and fist against his blocky chin, watching Troy squirm a little in his seat, quietly finishing his milkshake and apparently dropping his sleazy line of questioning.
It was frustrating, having Kane fifty miles away or whatever at some seaside town, wife, child and extended family in tow. It had been days since any action between them. No wonder he'd been so fired up last night at any provocation! And after the intense meeting today, a little cuddle with his big man would have been fucking ideal... It was strange how much he actually needed him now, in moments like this. He couldn't even really ring him very easily, since he was probably never alone at any point.
`You must be missing him,' remarked his company for the day, as if reading his mind.
His turn to be a bit bashful and sensitive. He had enjoyed Troy's access to their secret, on many levels, but still... As exciting as it was to finally have his secret love witnessed, Eric didn't really have the language to express his feelings for Harry, least of all to a smirking teenager who he was trying not to picture without his tracksuit on right now. Compelled by guilt, he thumbed in a quick message to Kane: "actually hanging out with Troy at moment... lol... hope that ok x"
Troy had started to talk about something else, sensing he'd touched a nerve, and Eric only half-listened. He was a little apprehensive at what his lover might say to this near-innocent message. The ridiculousness of it struck him for the umpteenth time: of course Harry would be fucking Mrs Kane's brains out tonight, they were on holiday! And yet he was supposed to lie in wait, tossing and turning in a lonely bed?
"oh right" was the first message, signalling blatant jealousy, but then 30 seconds later: "say hi from me lol... big dicked bastard" A string of little facial emojis followed. Eric smiled, and he sensed Troy pausing in his monologue about the stresses of penalty-taking in a big stadium. `Er, Kane says hi,' he chuckled to the attentive teen. "don't remind me! Lol x" he sent to Kane at the same time.
`Oh, hah, hi to him too,' Troy said vaguely. It was obvious from his face he was briefly remembering the bedroom encounter, the way he'd had to face-fuck Kane to avoid a more awkward confrontation of what had been going on.
"just don't let him finger u this time!!!" came Harry's next message.
"but can I finger him??? Lol xx" – Eric looked up after sending this cheeky message and saw how intently Troy was looking at him over the table now. The two professional footballers let their eyes meet for a long moment and the teen sharply darted his gaze away first, pushing away his empty milkshake cup and rubbing his mouth on the back of his hand. In his hand, Dier's phone buzzed, and he looked at the reply: "if he'll let u lol... not like u dnt deserve sum fun babe xxx" He stared at the screen, then back up at Troy, who was taking sudden interest in some of the place's tacky wall art, rather than looking Eric's way. Jesus, Eric thought, was this free license to misbehave?!
He gave the striker a measured look, chewed on his lip, then looked back at his phone. "u serious lol?" ... "why not... I kno ur all mine really x" ... "I miss u so much xx" ...Phone locked.
It is frustrating,' Dier pointed out. You know, not having Harry here to er, calm me down, after last night.' He forced out a really grumpy sigh. `They did go hard on me in there this morning, pal. But... I'll be fine. I really appreciate you hanging out with me.'
`Well, you bought the food,' Troy said gratefully.
`Yeah but... you're good company. Really good.'
`Er, thanks.'
Hey,' Eric said then, lowering his voice, how much fun was that time in the saunas?'
Troy's face looked conflicted. It was a bit wild, yeh.' A return of the scarlet in his cheeks. Seems a long, long time ago now, man!'
It does.' He let one of his legs reach forward a bit, so his denim-clad calf rubbed Troy's shin through nylon; he slid it forward and pressed a little more. You were a lot of fun to suck, you know. And I hardly ever do that.' He could see the mixture of delighted pride and nervous prudishness compete for space on Parrott's face. `Only when the mood really takes me.'
`Right.' The lanky teenager shifted a little in his seat, changing positions a couple of times in a struggle to get comfortable. Their legs touched more firmly and Eric's foot, slid noiselessly from his designer trainer, slid its way up the inside of one leg then back down after nearing the pit of his knee. The teen cleared his throat.
`Hey, Troy, didn't you say the family you stay with is only a few streets from here?'
Oh, um, yeah – I mean, like five mins, really, but... Eric, pal, what about-
He's chill with it, mate.' Eric lifted his leg carefully and dextrously and pressed his socked toes over the leather and into the space between Troy's legs until his tiptoes brushed what they sought and the lad flushed bright red and laughed nervously. So... five mins, you say...?'
It was a stereotypical teenage bedroom, really. A mixture of Tottenham and Ireland football paraphernalia blazed at Eric from every angle, and he couldn't hold in a smile of affection as Troy hurriedly kicked and picked at some of the dirty laundry strewn about the floor and limited furniture on their way in. Eric had checked his phone fifteen times on the way here, reading and re-reading those little messages from Harry, reassuring himself he had a pass for this. And now they were up here, in the empty family home and its guest bedroom that Troy had been occupying since he moved over, and...
Mate,' Eric said gently, as Parrott started to pick stuff up off the floor in front of him, dirty underpants and inside-out skinny jeans, and some discarded packaging from junk food that definitely didn't fit on the Spurs club nutrition guidelines... Mate,' he repeated, taking hold of Troy's elbow and stalling him. `Relax. I'm not here for your interior design.'
Parrott flashed him a nervous smirk. `Sorry man, I'm just – this feels weird. You even being here. Hah. Mate, I'm just...'
Dier held up a silencing finger to his own lips, and pulled off his hoody and then tshirt, baring the broad pale muscle of his torso and the very light dusting of dark blond hair on his pecs and around his naval. He liked the hints of admiration playing on Troy's lips and eyes, knowing how his bulky body must look to this developing younger lad, so tall but lean. He pushed Troy's jerky fingers away and undid the zip of his tracksuit top, then guided it back over those broad shoulders. Then he pulled on the fabric of the black tshirt beneath, and up it came. They were both shirtless now.
`On the bed,' he instructed quietly.
And so he did. Troy climbed onto the single bed and Eric followed, pulling himself up onto the mattress and pushing aside a heap of clothes. He rested his hands on the teen's knees and guided him further up the bed, then began pulling on the slippery nylon of the trackies; Troy helped, pushing down at the waistband, and soon they were coming down, over sturdy dark-haired thighs and over knees and down bruised shins... Off they go,' Dier chuckled eagerly, come on...'
He pulled his hands up and down the beautiful exposed legs, enjoying the tight strength of the striker's thighs and calves, the surprising thickness of that dark Irish hair... and then only eventually bringing his hands close to the fabric of the striped boxer shorts. He leant in and nuzzled Troy's big, quickly swelling package with pursed lips and faintly bearded chin. Little moans and nervous sniggers. `Lie back, relax... think of your girlfriend, if you want... hah...'
`Or your boyfriend?' teased Troy with surprising confidence.
Eric smirked up the length of his torso at him and cupped the tip of that big bulge in his lips, then ran his hands up the lad's six pack very slowly. You smug prick,' he sniggered. Well, you'll have to let me know how my skills compare to his...' He let his fingertips near just a couple of inches below the bullet like nipples and their corona of dark hair, then slid them back down, and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Troy's boxer shorts. Aha,' he breathed, as they slid down, and the thick length of meat was exposed, as beautiful as he remembered it. Yum.'
For the first time that day, Dier could really put aside the memory of his own misconduct. He took it slow, avoiding the prick itself, and pushing his firm tongue against the sagging bollocks beneath, rolling them against his mouth and nudging Troy's semi from side to side until it was lifting up on its own and then he kissed the exposed tip. Shuddering sighs came from the sensitive and inexperienced young stud, and Dier really felt himself getting taken over by lust. Yes, he'd been with a few different lads in secret clinches, but nobody other than Kane had ever filled him with this hunger... and nobody had ever given him such desire to PLEASE.
The normally dominant top took as much of the dick into his mouth as he could and sucked gently on the length, letting his strong hands massage Troy's inner thighs, working the boxer shorts further down, and spread those legs so gently. He worked his mouth at an angle, gently wanking the girthy base and sliding Troy's wet bell end against the inside of his cheek. He could hear the moans grow and grow, the teen writhing on the bedding. He paused, just teasing the edge of Troy's foreskin with his tongue, and gripping the dick in one hand. How is it?' he asked in a slow, deep purr. How's it compare to your girlfriend, eh...?'
`Oh fuck... so much better...' the sexy Irish accent answered instantly.
`And what about to my boyfriend?'
`You're so good at it,' Troy said, his voice almost a pleading whimper.
Am I?' Dier sniggered. It's not even my top skill...'
`What is?!'
`Oh... you want me to show you?'
`Yes... mmm, yes...'
Dier grinned a filthy grin and licked the boner again, but slid one hand around the curve of thigh and tickled two fingers just beneath the lad's balls. Troy moaned and twisted. Eric lifted the fingers up and spat at them, then pushed them down against the Irishman's furry gooch. Ohhh,' moaned Troy softly, a note of concern in his pleasured cry. Eric pushed the two fingers forward until they were pressing at the base of the crack, teasing the line where tensed buttocks met. Eric,' murmured Troy's voice uncertainly.
`You said you wanted me to show you...?'
`Yeah, but...'
It won't hurt,' he promised. You'll like it.'
He pushed at the firm legs then, spreading them a bit more so the space beneath opened up. He slid a single finger forward, pushing his thick digit into the surprisingly hairy canyon of Troy's arse. As he did so, he resumed his talented sucking, knowing it would relax and calm the nervous virgin. He used his elbows to part and lift his legs a bit more and ran his finger more fully up the crack and back down it. More concerned but distracted groans from Parrott at that. Eric found the tight muscled hole and circled it sensitively. This lad was clearly a total top in the making, he mused, and that made the thought of playing with his hole even more enticing.
`I'm not sure I can do this...'
Yeah you can,' Eric whispered urgently, it'll be great...'
`Mmm... Eric, just... mmm, be careful...'
`Definitely, buddy, definitely...'
Remembering just how slowly you had to go, Dier eased his bubbling fantasy of four-fingered frigging of this tight hairy lad-cunt... one finger might be enough. As he popped its top into the ring, he saw Troy's whole body curve and tense. Wow, he'd forgotten how exciting this first cherry popping was... His own cock ached and leaked in the prison of his jeans. He timed each gentle prod of his finger with a fresh tonguing of the lad's quivering dick.
`Oh shit,' Troy murmured.
`Yeah buddy, how's that?'
`It... it's sore, but... ohhhh...'
In it went. God this lad's arse was like a vice! Eric took it slow but he used force. In it went, and back, and in... he began to slide the first half of his finger in and out of that tight entrance and saw and felt Troy's intense reaction at each poke. He was careful but he was greedy, and he started pressing his second finger to the hole way too quickly. He saw the fear and tension in his young play-thing but he was gripped suddenly by the same animal energy that had drove him into last night's confrontation. Come on,' he growled, you can take it...' He forced two fingers into that super-tight hole and his own cock throbbed at the wolfish yowl it prompted from the Dublin youth.
FUCK,' Troy gasped, fuck fuck... oh shit...'
Eric wrapped his lips immediately around the lad's dick to soothe him, realising how hasty he'd been. He pushed the two thick fingers in and out and worked the big Irish meat with lips and tongue, and... ohhhh, there it was... Troy's almost yelling pleasure and the splash of cum on his tongue and tastebuds. Oh buddy,' cried Troy, writhing. Ohhh...' Eric lapped up as much of the thick load as he greedily could and when he pulled his lips away, he kissed each bollock once, and only then slowly retreated his forceful fingers from the twitching hole.
The teenage football sensation lay there, moaning and shivering, spent. Eric, though, knew it was his turn. He reached down and undid his belt roughly and began shoving both his jeans and tight Calvin Kleins down over his arse and thighs. At the same time, he slid his bigger body up the bed until he was alongside Troy's naked form.
`Toss me off,' he grunted.
`Mm, okay...'
`Go on... grab it buddy...'
As the teen tentatively took hold of his throbbing, precum-soaked erection, he wrapped an arm about his chest and hugged him, needing to feel the masculine heat and firm muscle; in spite of his lust and the naughtiness, he wished powerfully it was Harry Kane after all. Partly because he wanted to push his dick into something, and he knew Troy was nowhere near ready for THAT; mostly, he just wanted the man he loved. But, as they said, love the one you're with. He tensed up, shocked at how close to orgasm he already was, as the clumsy handjob powered on.
`Yes lad, mmm yes...' he grunted.
Troy picked up some pace, tugging on him with more gusto as his orgasmic glow faded. Eric held him close as he did, stroking his chest and thumbing his nipples. He wanted to kiss him but he held back, and just played his lips and facial hair over the back and side of his neck a little instead. And then he knew it was almost time to finish.
Get up,' he panted, get on your knees...'
What? Eric, I'm not-
I don't want to fuck you,' Dier said roughly, just do it...'
`Okay, okay...'
And so Troy rolled onto his front and pressed knees to the bed, lifting the tight curve of his buttocks into the air, framed in fluffy dark hair. Eric rose up on his own knees, kneeling into the bunched up mound of his jeans, and he rested his hand on one of Troy's downy cheeks. Of course he wanted to fuck this gorgeous young thing, but he couldn't: he'd have Parrott in tears of pain, and he would really be betraying Kane. No. That was not happening. But...
With a series of rough yelps, Eric blew his load all over the gorgeous backside. His cum splattered over each cheek and droplets hit the fur of that dark crack. He heard the little moan of surprise from him, but what an insanely beautiful sight. Even in the throes of cumming, he felt a sudden burst of inspiration, and scrabbled down with his free hand to find the phone bulging in his jeans pocket. He knew who else would want to see this sight. He took the quick snap and sent it straight to Harry.
Then he leaned forward, wrapped a muscular arm about Troy's midriff, and pulled the naked player into a tight cuddle that made him giggle embarrassedly and wriggle away a little at the intimacy. Eric could still not tell if the sexy striker was too young and confused to really embrace this male affection, or if he was genuinely straight. He thought about their first near encounter, catching Troy spy a little on his powerful fucking of Kane in the store cupboard... the curiosity had been there, for sure. He laughed gently and released his muscular grip on the awkward youth, rolling away himself and staring up at the cracked ceiling.
`My arse is so sore,' Troy burst out, after a few minutes' silence between them.
Aww,' Eric cooed half-mockingly, and he reached over to where Troy lay on his front, and spanked the sticky flesh gently. Poor Trojan Horse. Didn't you like it?'
`It was... intense.'
`You preferred my other skills?'
`I... I think I did. Hah.' They turned their heads to look at each other over the ruffled pillows. Eric smiled gratefully at the teenager and Troy returned this with a nervous flicker of his lips. For a moment, Eric felt his head lean forward and his shoulders tense up; he could feel himself leaning in to brush those reddish lips with his own, and then he stopped himself. No. Stay loyal.
`What?' laughed Troy, seeing the intensity in his eyes.
I was just thinking how much my fingers hurt too,' quipped Dier playfully, and he rubbed the two hole-dirty digits against the other footballer's chest. You aren't the only one, haha. You've got an arse like a... fuck, I dunno. Tightest thing I've ever felt. If you ever did get fucked...'
That isn't happening,' Troy said, authoritatively but too quickly. I'm not... I mean. Sorry. I have a girlfriend.' He said this with such sincerity that Eric could have burst out laughing, their naked bodies side by side in the narrow single bed, the taste of spunk still in Dier's mouth. His own load drying on Troy's bare buttocks, sticking to the sheets. He let it go and just grinned affectionately at this younger rogue. We don't have long,' Troy said then, I only have the house until myself til about 1pm, pal, so...' Something in his tone or face said he was lying, but Eric could hardly be offended. Either the lad just wanted space, or slightly regretted his latest homoerotic foray, and either way, Dier respected that.
He climbed off the bed and, again, enjoying the exhibitionist sense of Parrott's curious eyes exploring his muscular physique for a few moments before it was covered up. Trunks, jeans, tshirt, hoody. He picked up his phone from where it had slid, and looked down at the still bollock naked teenager in the bed. God had been at his artistic best when he made this one.
You look after yourself,' Dier grunted. And no more thoughts about penalties. You're gonna be a star, Troy Parrott. See you at training.'
He listened to Troy's mumbled goodbyes on the way out, leaving through the deserted house and out into the terraced North London street. His cock ached in his pants from the fury of his brief wank, and his muscles were still tired from last night's defeat. But the worry of his behaviour and its consequences was, at least temporarily, faded. Thank god for a bit of cock and arsehole to distract him from that!
He walked down the road back towards the Tottenham car park where he'd left his motor, and opened up his mobile phone, keen to see what Kane had replied to the dirty photograph of his antics. Hmm, nothing. He stared at the messaging thread. Something was wrong. The last message in the conversation was as it had been before: his own simple and soppy response to Kane's permission, "I miss u so much x". No picture message. What the fuck? He exited his chat to Kane, and looked at his outbox, and stopped dead in his tracks.
He'd sent that picture, that detailed but rather anonymous view of a cum-streaked hairy backside, yes, and to a Harry, but not HIS Harry... it had gone to the next name down in his contacts, a name with a little lion emoji next to it to represent their England national teammate status. He stared in complete horror at the line in his outbox, the little paperclip of file attachment, and the contact name beside it: Harry Maguire.