Chapter Text
It was fucking weird. The whole fucking thing.
Roy didn’t know how to be at a match without being on the pitch. He almost didn’t come, but Jamie and Phoebe pulled a double-puppy-dog-eye thing on him, and he caved.
It’s not that he didn’t want to support Jamie or the rest of the Richmond lads. Or even Beard and Nate. But going to the match was a painful reminder that he actually wasn’t manager because Ruth was dead .
Ruth is dead, and he’s in the fucking owners suite at Nelson Road watching Jamie Tartt (whose dick he had in his mouth last night) dominate by passing the ball.
Fucking weird.
“Come on, Richmond!” Higgin’s wife yells behind him.
So far, the game is tied 1-1. Jamie keeps positioning the ball but Sam and Dani have both missed opportunities to put it in the net. Suddenly, Roy remembers the time when Jamie had given Sam the cruel advice to “get a time machine” as a way to improve his game. He nearly smiles at how much has changed.
Today, after Sam manages to hit the top of the post instead of making a goal, Jamie slings an arm around shoulder and leans in to tell him something. Roy doesn’t know what Jamie says, but he knows it isn’t cruel.
“You alright?” Keeley asks, sitting next to him. “Probably strange, yeah? Being up here instead of down there?”
Rebecca leans over from the other side of Keeley to tell him, “Whenever you’re ready, you have a place down there.”
Roy tries to give what he hopes is a grateful smile and nods because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready, even once things settle down with Phoebe.
His niece has been back at school nearly a month and seeing Dr. Gail twice a week. It seems to be helping, and they’ve settled into something resembling a normal routine. He takes her to school and picks her up on time without fail. He’s programmed all the events and half days into his phone so that he doesn’t fuck anything up.
When she’s at school, Roy spends half his time at the club helping with training or meeting with the other coaches, and he spends the other half of his time still dealing with all of Ruth’s shit. Turns out, it’s a lot of paperwork when someone dies without a will. Even more paperwork when a kid’s involved.
Once all that gets worked out (hopefully by the end of the year according to his lawyer), he’ll have more time. If it was just about Phoebe, he thinks fleetingly, they could probably figure out a way to make it work -- being her full time guardian (he can’t quite let himself call himself a ‘parent’) and being the manager.
But it isn’t just about Phoebe.
With about 10 minutes left in designated time, the crowd groans at another missed opportunity to take the lead, and Roy can’t stand it anymore. He digs out his phone and shoots off a text to Nate.
🖕
Roy told the other coach to silence all other notifications during the game except from him, just in case. He hopes he gets the message and understands what it means. Phoebe distracts him by asking for more popcorn and commenting how the kits look much better than when Roy played for Richmond.
Suddenly, the crowd roars and Roy’s eye snap back to the pitch to see the Prince Prick of All Pricks nutmeg the fuck out of a defender and make a play into the box. The other defenders shift for the obvious pass to an open Richard because Jamie’s passed the entire match.
Except, this time, he takes the shot. It hits the back of the net, and everyone at the dog track loses their goddamn minds.
Roy can’t help but smile. He’s seen Jamie play a lot, but it’s different from this angle. Something warm swells in his chest.
After the match ends, with Richmond securing a win for their season and home opener, Phoebe stays with Keeley and Rebecca while Roy heads down to the locker room. He can hear the loud celebrations from the hallway and enters to find the team cracking up victory beers and chanting, “We’re Richmond till we die!”
True, it’s just the first game of the season. But once again, everyone has them pegged to finish dead last. So, Roy knows the celebration is as much as “ fuck you we belong here ” as anything else. When he enters, Roy forces himself to not automatically seek out Jamie, no matter how much he wants to.
Instead, he heads straight to the coach’s office and shakes Beard’s hand.
“Nicely done.”
“Ah, well, thank you, Coach.”
Roy turns to Nate next and puts his hand out before the other man envelopes in one of his awkward hugs. “Bloody brilliant!” He says excitedly before extracting him. “Good call on setting Jamie loose.”
“Glad you understood the message.”
“Of course,” Nate answers.
“Yo, Coach!” A distinct Mancuian accent calls out. The coaches look back out to the locker room, where a hush has fallen over the players who are now staring at him with excitement. Jamie is standing on the bench next to Issac, giving him a smirk.
“Whatcha think?” Issac asks, and the entire team awaits Roy’s response. He steps out into the locker room with Beard and Nate behind him.
He looks at all of them and lets the silence stretch a moment longer. “That was fucking brilliant,” he finally says, and the team erupts.
Roy forgoes their invitation to go out in favor of getting Phoebe home. As he leaves the locker room, he tries not to be weird. He clasps Jamie on the shoulder like he did the other players, but his hand lingers for half a second longer than probably necessary.
“Have fun tonight,” Roy tells him.
“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jamie says somewhat quietly. Roy doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods.
It’s the first win of the season, so he hopes Jamie doesn’t skip out on celebrating with the team.
Later that night, he’s typing out an email to Beard and Nate that summarizes his thoughts on the match and what they should do in training this week. He tries to make it all sounds like fucking suggestions, even uses the phrase “ if you wanted to .” It’s annoying as fuck.
Then, he gets a text from Keeley.
This isn’t like trending or anything online but def getting some traction. I’m sorry, Roy. Just thought you should know. xoxo
Attached is a link to a tweet from the Sun (cause of fucking course), and it’s two pictures: one is of Keeley, Roy, and Phoebe after the game walking out together hand-in-hand. A second one shows Roy leaning in to give Keeley a peck on the cheek by his car but from the angle it looks like he could be going for her lips. The caption attached reads: BROUGHT BACK TOGETHER BY TRAGEDY.
Fucking Christ.
The papers had mildly covered Ruth’s death and then tied it all together with the announcement of his leave of absence. It was the nicest non-football related shit journalists had ever said about him. Called him a family man . Even with that press, no one has thankfully accosted Phoebe and him while they were out. He hasn’t caught anyone taking photos. He’d fucking break cameras and potentially skulls if he did.
KJPR can release a statement if you want.
Can the statement be to not take fucking pictures of minors? I fucking hate that they clearly got one with Phoebe’s face.
That is fucking shit. Let me draft something. And talk to Rebeca about security for these nosy bastards.
Shit, it’s nice to have Keeley back in his life. Before he can respond, he hears a small cry from the top of the stairs. When he looks up, Phoebe is standing there in her pajamas, clutching her stuffed fox under her arm and tears streaming down her face.
He’s up the stairs quickly — too quickly according to his knee.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling her into his arms.
“I-I don’t know,” she says, as she gulps in big breaths of air and the tears fall. He tries to squash the panic that rises in his chest everytime this happens. Most of the time, Phoebe acted fine, which Dr. Gail said was the problem. She spent so much time acting fine that the emotions bubbled up and spilled over into these major meltdowns.
He holds her at the top of the stairs, snot and tears collecting on his shirt. “Is Jamie coming home tonight?” She hiccups. “Can I sleep with you?”
His heart stutters as she calls this place home. “Of course, you can. Let’s go.”
He picks her up and takes her to his room, grateful he changed the sheets this morning. As they lay down on their sides facing each other, Phoebe asks, “Can you tell me the story about the prank Mummy played on that neighbor boy who was always teasing you?”
“That’s one of my fucking favorites,” he says, reaching out to pat her head.
She smiles, dry tears staining her face, “Me, too.”
Once she’s asleep, Roy slips out of bed and heads back downstairs. It’s not even midnight yet, and he picks up his phone to shoot Jamie a text that Phoebe’s sleeping with him tonight.
Almost immediately, Jamie responds.
she okay? have a breakdown?
She’s fine.
I was just giving you a heads up in case you were coming back here tonight.
You should be celebrating though, not texting me back.
but i like texting you
be even better if we were sexting tho
Jamie, celebrate with your friends.
id rather celebrate on ur dick
Roy shakes his head but feels the spark of arousal in him.
u didn’t fuck me all week
fucking rude
Have fun with your friends tonight. No training tomorrow and Phoebe has a playdate.
I’ll make it up to you.
isaac ordered a bus for all of us, so i dont think i’ll be able to get dropped off at ur place without it causing a fuss ya know? come to mine after you drop phoebe off?
Okay. Be there around 11.
miss you
Again, Roy’s heart does that stutter thing.
You too, you muppet. Have fun.
A few minutes after 11am the next morning, Roy walks into Jamie’s house with the spare key Jamie pressed into his hand a couple months ago, even though they rarely stayed here.
“Jamie?” Roy calls out. He half expects that other man to be waiting naked at the door. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Ya up?”
“In here!” He follows the voice to the living room and finds Jamie sitting on the couch, unsurprisingly naked and wearing a shit-eating grin. Roy freezes at the sight. “Ready to make it up to me?” He asks with a smirk.
Less than five minutes later, Roy has Jamie kneeling on the couch, elbows resting on the back of it, and is slowly pushing inside. As soon as he’s bottomed out, Roy lets out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“ Fucccckkkk .”
“Roy,” Jamie groans. “Fuckin’ move.” The tight heat of Jamie’s body is intoxicating, and he doesn’t want to pull out yet to start properly thrusting. “Fuckin’—please.”
“Like this?” Roy asks, leaning forward, pressing deeper, shifting his hips in the way that he knows hits Jamie’s prostate. He’s rewarded with a debauched moan. From this position, the sunlight streaming in from the window makes Jamie’s skin glow, makes his fucking walnut mist hair shine. “Or like this?” He asks, starting to grind his hips. Jamie gasps, and Roy feels his inner walls clench tightly. “Jesus Christ, you were beautiful on the pitch yesterday.”
Jamie looks over his shoulder, pupils dilated and pink lips open and panting. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Roy says as he locks eyes with Jamie and grips his hips tighter. “Almost as beautiful as when you’re on my cock.” Only then, does he finally pull out and start to thrust into Jamie’s warm body.
It’s over way too quickly. It has been nearly a week since they properly fucked. Being inside him again like this short circuits his fucking brain, and it takes all Roy’s focus to make sure Jamie comes first. He reaches around to grip the other man’s dick, stroking roughly in time with his thrusts.
“Come for me, pretty boy,” Roy growls, and Jamie cries out, clamping down on Roy’s dick, and coming all of the blanket haphazardly thrown over the back of the coach. Only a few thrusts later, Roy spills inside him.
“Fuckin hell,” Jamie gasps. Roy eases out of him, giving him a gentle slap on one arse cheek.
Roy pads over to the adjoining kitchen and washes his hand, using the towel to wipe the rest of the come off his stomach.
“You wanna order some lunch? Thai sounds fucking delicious.” Jamie calls out. Nothing sounds fucking better.
Eating take out in their pants on the couch watching Sky Zone gives Roy a funny feeling. It takes a moment to realize that this was what they used to do before. This is how they spent a lot of the off-seaon before Ruth fucking died.
“Oi, eyebrows,” Jamie tells him, mouth half full of pad Thai. “What’s on your mind?”
It’s unnerving how good Jamie’s gotten at reading his expressions. Sometimes, Roy isn’t sure he likes it. “Nothing.”
Jamie rolls his eyes, “Come on, mate. They say the eyes are the window to the soul but for you it’s your fucking eyebrows.”
The thing is Roy doesn’t know what exactly he’s feeling or why he’s feeling it. Much less how to articulate it.
“Is this about the article talkin’ about you and Keeley?”
It isn’t. But Roy welcomes the opportunity to change the subject. “You saw that?”
“Yeah, man. Had a couple of the lads ask me last night if you two were back together.”
“What did you tell them?”
Jamie shrugs, looking down at his food. “That I wasn’t your keeper or Keeley’s keeper. Was kind of weird, honestly. They all looked so fucking giddy at the idea two of you together again.” Roy grunts, remembering the uproar from the team when they broke up. “Sorry they got that picture of Phoebe. Fucking shit to drag her into it.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do about that. Ruth would hate it.”
There’s an awkward moment of silence, and Jamie won’t look up at him as he says, “I’d get it, ya know? I mean…it’d be easier if you got back with Keeley. Or any woman I guess.”
“What the fuck you talking about?”
Jamie sets his plate on the coffee table but still won’t look him in the eye. “I just—I mean you looked like a proper family, yeah? And I’d get it if that’s something you’d want now that you have Phoebe and—”
“Don’t be a twat,” Roy growls, setting his own food down. Without hesitating, he grabs both Jamie’s arm and hauls him into his lap to straddle his thighs. “I want you. ” He grips the younger man’s neck firmly and brings him in for a kiss.
For some reason, he can’t say the words he wants to say— you’re my family— so he tries to convey it with his lips. He growls again when he feels Jamie melt against him, hands gripping his face.
In the back of his mind, he gets what Jamie’s saying. In some ways, it would be easier. It'd be easier for both of them if they were with women. Then, Jamie grinds down against him, whines against his mouth and thoughts of easy go out the fucking window.
The next time Roy walks into the coach’s office on a day he’s there for training, Beard holds out a coffee for him. As he grabs the styrofoam cup from the shop down the street, Roy notices a distinct black band around the other man’s ring finger.
“Holy fucking shit, did you get married? How did I miss that?”
“It’s an engagement ring,” Beard answers without looking up from his book. “Jane and I are looking at spring for a wedding.”
“Who’s getting married in the spring?” Nate asks as he joins them, hopping up onto his typical spot on the filing cabinet. “Oh my god, did you and Jane get married?” He asks, eyeing the black band as well.
Beard sighs heavily, setting his book down, to address the two of them, “No. We got engaged. Well, first I asked her to marry me, and she said no and broke up with me, but it was all part of her surprise to ask me to marry her.” That sounds fucking terrible, but Beard is genuinly fucking smiling, so Roy tries to keep his face neutral. “She’s romantic like that.”
“Rightttt…,” Roy tells him.
“Well, that’s lovely,” Nate says happily. “What about the ring you got her?”
“She threw it in the Thames,” Beard answers easily, once again picking up his book. Roy and Nate give each other somewhat concerned looks because what the fuck ? He knows Beard spent a small fortune at that ring and spent weeks picking it out. He had to listen in to countless Zoom calls with Ted about the cut and design this past summer.
“I can’t wait to ask Jade to marry me,” Nate announces, which earns him a raised eyebrow look from both coaches. “Well--at some point, I meant not now obviously because--well. We’ve only been going out for nine months, three days, and 19 hours. So it’s ya know--not yet.”
“I wouldn’t stress too much about the timing. When you know, you know,” Beard say. “Don’t you think, Coach?” He asks Roy, and right at that moment, Jamie walks into the locker room with Sam, smiling at something the Nigerian is telling him.
Something weird fucking flutters in Roy’s stomach. He doesn’t like it and just grunts in response before turning the white board to discuss fucking tactics because that’s what they’re fucking here for.
During training that day, news about Beard’s engagement and the surrounding story spreads throughout the team. That night Jamie sits on the counter while Roy cooks dinner and asks him, “Did she really throw his ring in the river?”
Roy shrugs, sauteeing the vegetables and keeping an eye on the boiling pasta. Between Jamie’s nutritional needs during the season and Phoebe’s mildly picky eating habits, he feels like he’s cooking two meals every night. “That’s what he said.”
“Fucking crazy that one.”
“Which one?” Roy snorts. “They’re perfect for each other.”
Jamie laughs, “Yeah, yeah I guess they are.” After a moment, he asks Roy a more surprising question, “You ever buy an engagement ring?”
Roy shoots him a look, “Do I look fucking engaged or married to you?”
“I hope not,” Jamie’s smiling at him. “Although not the first time I’ve been the dirty mistress.”
Rolling his eyes, Roy turns back to the stove. “Why am I not surprised?”
“But for real though, you and Keeley was serious. You never thought--you know about marrying her?”
This feels weird to talk about with anyone but extra weird to talk about with Jamie, who also dated Keeley. Sometimes the whole situation gives him a headache if he thinks too deeply about it all.
“I don’t know,” he answers somewhat honestly, but Jamie doesn’t say anything in response. Just sits and lets the silence stretch until Roy gives in and continues. “I mean not fucking seriously. I didn’t have a ring picked out or anything, but I think in the back of my head, I fucking thought that--at one point, yeah, I guess I thought we’d probably end getting married. If she wanted.”
“Makes sense,” Jamie says.
“Did you ever think about marrying Keeley?”
Jamie laughs, “Fuck no. I mean, I loved her--probably more than I realized at the time, but nah, everything was a game back then, ya know? Marriage never crossed my mind.”
Roy bites his cheek because he wants to ask if it crosses his mind now, but he doesn’t understand why he fucking cares about the answer to that question.
“Ya hear they’re bringing Dr. Sharon back?” Jamie changes the subject, hopping down to get a drink from the refrigerator. “Who’s idea was that?”
“Mine,” Roy answers honestly, taking a pan off the stove and transferring the vegetables to a platter. Higgins asked in a meeting about ways to support the players off the pitch, and Roy couldn’t help but see the benefit of working with a therapist after watching the impact of Dr. Gail on Phoebe. When Jamie doesn’t respond, he looks over his shoulder to find the younger man staring in disbelief. “What’s that fucking face?”
“ You suggested bringing her back? Mr. I-Can’t-Experience-More-Than-One-Feeling-A-Day?”
“Piss off, I can experience more than one emotion a day,” Roy snaps back. “Right now, I’m hungry and annoyed with you.”
Jamie just laughs. “Babe, hunger is not an emotion.”
“Then what the fuck is it?”
“I don’t know, but it isn’t a fucking emotion. Happiness, sadness, those are emotions.” Roy just grunts and thinks that’ll be the end of the conversation, but Jamie steps closer till he’s standing right behind him. He reaches around to pick a mushroom off the plate and pop it into his mouth. “You gonna see? Dr. Sharon, I mean.”
“Why would I go fucking see her?” Roy answers before he can think about it, and Jamie levels him with an unimpressed look. “I talk to Dr. Gail after she meets with Phoebe.”
“You talk with Dr. Gail about Phoebe,” Jamie argues, reaching for another mushroom before Roy slaps his hand away. “I doubt you talk about yourself.”
“What’s there to fucking say?”
Jamie shakes his head with a smile. “Whatever you say, Big Man Roy Kent.” He presses a quick kiss to Roy’s cheek before walking out the kitchen and calling out, “Phoebe! Did you know your uncle thinks ‘hungry’ is an emotion?”
Roy stands unsure of what the fuck just happened, and the pasta water starts to boil over.
The Greyhounds tie the next match at home, and once again Roy watches from the owner box sandwiched between Phoebe and Keeley.
Turns out the only thing harder than watching from the stands at the dog track is watching from his couch on the fucking television. It’s fucking torture.
The next match is an away game in Spain, and Roy obviously can’t go. The custody isn’t finalized yet, so taking Phoebe out of the country is not on the table. Even if he could, he doesn’t think it’s fair to fucking drag her on the road every other week. She needs routine and normalcy.
He and Phoebe order takeaway and set up to watch the game together, but she only lasts through the first half. Phoebe likes football, likes playing it, and gets caught in the excitement of attending matches live. But she loses interest in watching television and wanders off to color.
This is the Greyhound’s first real showing in the Champions league. Roy fucking wishes he could be there because he clearly remembers the overwhelming experience of playing Santiago Bernabéu Stadium for the first time. He had been 22 and didn’t blink — but inside, he had been fucking terrified. Chelsea walked away with a 2-2 tie, and Roy scored one of the goals.
Unfortunately, Richmond AFC looks terrified. They look rattled and uncoordinated from the beginning. Can’t ever get into a flow. Defenders box Jamie in at every turn. Even through the screen, Roy can see the frustration etched clearly on his face.
In the end, they lose 2-nil. Roy turns off the TV before the talking heads can start being dicks. He knows he needs to reach out to Jamie, not as a coach or as a former coach but as a…as a boyfriend. Because Christ, that’s what he is, isn’t he?
But this is unfamiliar territory for Roy. He’s had to comfort girlfriends in the past over different shit, even if he didn’t fully understand what he was comforting them for or why it was such a big deal. This is different though. He knows all too well what Jamie’s feeling.
I’m here if you want to talk.
He gets Phoebe settled in bed -- no tears tonight -- and sits down to email Beard and Nate his thoughts when Jamie finally responds.
what the fuck is there to talk about it was a fuckin shit show
Shit show’s a bit of a stretch. 2-nil against Real Madrid at home isn’t a shit show.
sorry i don’t mean to be a little bitch
Roy pauses at that. Whenever Jamie refers to himself by some type of name, Roy knows that it’s father in his head. And it fucking makes him want to punch a wall.
You’re allowed to be upset after a loss. That’s how you fucking get better.
No one’s calling you a little bitch.
u did
For a second, Roy’s heart stops. Because he doesn’t know how to respond to that. He won’t try to deny it even if he can’t remember it, but while he’s trying to figure out how the fuck to respond, Jamie messages again.
shit sorry i don’t know why i said that
im just tired and that fucking #3 dead legged me in the second half
I saw. Don’t apologize.
I’m sorry, too.
its fine was a long time ago.
Roy wants to argue that it must still live in Jamie’s head if he was able to recall it so quickly, but before he can, Jamie’s texting again.
i can come over tomorrow after we get back?
You fucking better.
When Jamie walks through the door the next night, Roy expects him to be sullen or mopey like he was when Zava first joined the team. But he’s smiling brightly, arms open to Phoebe who runs into them. He kisses Roy quickly and says dinner smells delicious. The night is normal, and Jamie seems to be acting normal.
But something about it is off, and Roy feels unsettled by the whole fucking thing.
After putting Phoebe to bed, he comes back downstairs to Jamie lying across the sofa with one of the Mission Impossible movies on and staring blankly at the screen. He’s wearing black sweats and one of Roy’s Chelsea shirts, which always makes him smile.
“Budge up,” he says, sliding in under Jamie so that the younger man’s head is resting in his lap. Immediately, Roy finds himself running his hand through Jamie’s hair and is rewarded with a deep sigh.
“Where’s your book? Still reading the one about the Las Vegas mob?” Jamie asks
“I don’t need to read right now.”
Jamie turns onto his back so that he’s looking directly up at Roy. “I fucking hate losing.”
Roy nods. “It’s what makes you a good competitor. You’ll get another shot at them. Real Madrid is about as real as it gets in the Champions league. I lost 5-1 there once. Fucking brutal.”
“You scored Chelsea’s only goal in that game.” Roy smiles at Jamie knowing that. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything,” Roy says, and fucking hell, he means it.
Jamie reaches up, runs his thumb along Roy’s lips, strokes his cheek with the back of his. “Make me forget my name.”
Roy’s never heard Jamie ask him for that before, but he knows with no uncertainty what he’s asking for. A spark of arousal floods through him. It’s intoxicating that Jamie trusts him enough to ask him, that he allows himself to fall apart for Roy. Only Roy.
“Jamie…” he starts because as much as he wants , he also has this inkling that they should talk about things. About the game or whatever the fuck Jamie is feeling that’s making him ask for that kind of sex. Christ, he’s been listening to Dr. Gail too much.
“ Please ,” Jamie cuts him off, eyes wide and pleading. And Roy relents. What else can he do?
He stills on Jamie’s hair. “Go upstairs and get undressed,” Roy tells him. “I want you hard and on your back by the time I get up there. Can you do that for me?” Jamie nods eagerly and is jumping up before Roy can say anything else.
Taking a deep breath, Roy stands to turn off all the lights, make sure the door is locked, and grabs a bottle of water. He doesn’t quite understand what happens to Jamie when sex is like this, but he knows that afterwards, Roy is overcome with this deep desire to take care of him. To hold him till he comes fully back to his senses.
Upstairs, Roy enters the bedroom and stops in tracks. He had no doubt that Jamie would follow his instructions but the vision of it is still enough to take his breath away — Jamie laying on his back with his knees up and open, hand lazily stroking his hard cock, and two fingers stretching himself open.
As he shuts the bedroom door, he steps fully into the room and locks eyes with Jamie. “A little eager, aren’t we?”
“Didn’t want to wait,” Jamie admits, both his hands picking up pace. “Want you to fuck me.” Those words go straight to Roy’s dick, which was already pretty interested in the events of the evening.
Roy walks toward the bed, staring at where Jamie’s hand is disappearing into his body. Under his gaze, Jamie’s movements slow. Roy stops at the edge of the bed and makes no move to strip his clothes off or join Jamie.
“Go on then,” Roy tells him. “If you’re so eager, have a wank.”
“What?” Jamie’s face scrunch up in confusion. “But—”
Roy reaches out and quickly grabs Jamie’s ankle, pulling him further down the bed, till everything below the knee hangs off, and Roy steps between his spread legs, looming over him. Jamie lets out a yelp as the pull forces his fingers out of himself.
“Fuckin’ hell!” Jamie curses, expression shifting from confused to annoyed.
“Be a good lad and get yourself off. After that, then I’ll fuck you.”
He sees Jamie’s muscle twitch, watches the battle of whether or not to obey dance across his face. Something akin to pride blooms in Roy’s chest when Jamie makes up his mind and starts stroking his cock again, eyes never leaving Roy’s.
When Jamie starts to bend up a leg and sneak a hand down to slip fingers inside again, Roy grips his wrist.
“Only touch your cock.”
Surprisingly, Jamie doesn’t argue and drops his hand back to the mattress but redoubles his efforts on his dick.
“What are you thinking about?” Roy asks, fighting the urge to reach out and touch Jamie somewhere. He’s so fucking beautiful it makes it hard to look, yet at the same time Roy can’t look away.
“You,” Jamie answers as his breathing picks up. “Fucking always you.”
“Thinking about me sucking your cock?” Roy teases. “I could never imagine sucking another man off before but Christ I fucking love the taste of you in my mouth.”
“ Roy ,” he gasps.
“But knowing how much you love having a cock inside of you, you’re probably thinking about sucking my dick. Right?” Jamie’s hand moves faster, and Roy’s eyes drink in the quick rise and fall of his smooth chest. “Tell me how much you love sucking my cock.”
“I-I—Roy—”
“Tell me, pretty boy. Tell me how much you’re fucking dying to get my cock in your mouth.”
“Please, I-dont’-I need—”
“I know what you need,” Roy says firmly. “But I want to hear you say it. Say you want my cock in your mouth.”
“I-I-I—” Jamie’s gasping for breath, hand stripping his cock at a furious pace.
“ Tell me,” Roy growls.
“I want-want your cock in my mouth.” Jamie’s eyes have gone wide, jaw gone slack, and Roy can’t fucking taking it anymore, unbuttoning his jeans to mostly get some fucking relief for his own erection before an idea strikes him. “Fucking flip around, hang your head off the bed here,” Roy orders, and it has Jamie scrambling up to obey. He tilts his head back so that he’s hanging off the edge of the bed just slightly before he resumes stroking himself -- his cock red and weeping at the tip.
“Open your mouth, pretty boy. I’ll give you what you need because you are so good for me.” Without hesitation, Jamie opens, and Roy’s shoving inside his waiting mouth. He feels Jamie immediately starting to move his tongue and throat to suck, so he puts a hand gently on the striker’s cheek. “None of that, now. Just hold it there.” He can see confusion in the younger man's eyes but his hand hasn’t stopped moving as he strokes faster and faster. “I want you to keep me hard and wet so that as soon as you come, I can just roll you over and fuck you. Would you like that?”
Jamie moans, and Roy can feel the faintest sucking around his cock, like it’s a reflex Jamie can’t help. He had a girlfriend once years ago who really liked to do this, just sit with his cock in her mouth. He fucking loved it. Although he remembers sometimes his attention would wander because she wanted to do it like while they were watching TV or something. He can’t imagine his mind ever wandering when his dick’s in Jamie’s mouth.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful. Fucking beautiful on the pitch,” he tells him which has Jamie whining around his cock. “I can’t take my eyes off you when you play. I never fucking could,” he admits. “And now I can’t take my eyes off you here because you look fucking perfect. Fucking made for this.”
Drool is starting to pool in the corner of Jamie’s mouth, leaking out the side and running down his chin. Roy can feel him force his breath in and out of his nose.
“I love your mouth, almost as much as I love your arse. You probably don’t know which one you’d rather have filled as needy as you are. One day I’ll get a dildo so that both your holes can be properly fucked at the same time. Christ, you’d take it so beautifully.”
There’s a muffled cry around his dick as Jamie’s comes, shooting his load across his stomach. Roy clenches every muscle in his body to stop from thrusting into Jamie’s mouth. After his orgasm passes, Jamie’s breathing heavily through his nose, trying to catch his breath as his chest rapidly rises and falls.
“Run your fingers through your come,” Roy tells him, trying to keep his voice even and unaffected despite feeling himself fraying at the seams. Jamie complies, eye brows barely furrowing at the request. “Now open yourself up for me.” He tells him. “Breathe through your nose, you’re doing amazing, pretty boy. You’re being so good for me.”
Without hesitating, Jamie brings his knees up to his chest and reaches down between his legs with his come-covered fingers. Roy hears the squelch as he pushes two fingers in, wishing he was closer to see. He fucking loves opening Jamie up on his fingers. When he glances back down, Jamie’s eyes are glazed over and his cheeks are completely flushed red.
“Add another finger,” Roy tells him. “You’re always so tight.” He watches Jamie’s hand shift and then the younger man’s back arches off the bed as he shoves three fingers inside himself. “Such a needy little hole. Always fucking desperate for something to stretch it open. Maybe one day, I’ll fuck you with my cock and a dildo at the same time.” It isn’t something he can actually see himself doing because he already has enough anxiety about hurting the younger man, but it has the desired effect and Jamie cries out, the sound muffled by Roy’s dick. “You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you? Take everything I fucking give you.” He sees Jamie’s dick twitch as it makes a valiant effort to get hard again. Fucking 26 year olds.
Roy thinks he might literally burst if he doesn’t get inside Jamie.
“Good boy, good boy,” he murmurs as he eases his dick out of Jamie’s mouth, putting a hand down to rub gently at his jaw. “Gonna fuck you now.”
“ Please,” Jamie all but sobs. Roy strips his shirt off and uses it to wipe the drool off Jamie’s face and maneuver him back on the bed properly.
“You're gonna ride me,” Roy tells him, stepping fully out of his pants and sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Nice and slow.” He watches Jamie’s quivering, strong muscles as he gets up and throws a leg over Roy’s thighs to straddle him. Jamie moves to grab at Roy’s dick, but he stops him. “Wait. Want to check that you’re nice and open for me.” With one hand, he traces Jamie’s hole, rim slick with come and lube from earlier. He pushes two fingers inside and crooks them to find Jamie’s prostrate right away, an angle he knows Jamie can’t really reach on his own.
Jamie grinds back against his finger and throws his head back, eyes clenched tight in the overstimulation. With his other hand, Roy reaches for the lube on the nightstand. He squirts some on his dick, spreads it around. After being surrounded by Jamie’s mouth for so long, he feels on the fucking edge. Part of Roy is tempted to just keep pumping himself to release. But then Jamie gives a delicious clench around his fingers, and Roy’s moving before he can think twice.
Sliding his fingers out. Positioning his dick at Jamie’s opening. Gripping the striker’s hips to lower him down till the head pops through into the tight heat. He holds off his orgasm by willpower alone.
“Nice and slow,” Roy reminds him, lowering Jamie further and further till he’s buried to the hilt. “Fucking Christ. You feel amazing.” Jamie whimpers, hands braced on Roy’s shoulders and eyes still shut. “Jamie, look at me.”
It takes a moment, but the younger man brings his head back facing Roy again, eyes glazed and wide. He’s panting, lips bitten red.
“You are beautiful,” he tells him. “Say it.”
“I’m-I’m--” his voice trails off, so Roy reaches up and takes a tight grip of hair, yanking Jamie’s head to the side slightly.
“Say it,” he growls against Jamie’s exposed neck. “Say ‘I’m beautiful.’”
“I’m beautiful,” Jamie gasps.
“Say, ‘I’m going to ride your dick nice and slow.’” He punctuates the sentence with a sharp, angled thrust to his prostate. Jamie jerks in his arms, dick now fully hard and pressed against Roy’s stomach. “Say it, pretty boy.”
“I’m going to-to ride your dick nice and slow.”
“Now, show me .” Jamie snaps like he’s a puppet and the right strings have been pulled. He starts slowly rising and falling on Roy’s dick, an easy rhythm that has him shaking within minutes. He falls forward slightly, burying his face against Roy’s shoulder. He’s a mumbling mess of oh god and please and Roy . It’s fucking beautiful.
“God, baby, you’re fucking perfect,” Roy grits out through clenched teeth, hands probably bruising Jamie’s hips with his tight grip. He told Jamie to go slow, and the man of course listened. But Roy’s now the one biting his tongue to keep from rearing up and pounding into him. “You’re fucking strong, the strongest fucking man I know. Look at you.”
Jamie leans up and pushes their lips together in a kiss. But it’s less of a kiss and more of a clash of tongue and teeth as his movements finally start to speed up. “Take what you need, pretty boy.” Roy murmurs against his mouth, adding some momentum from his own hips and sneaking a hand between them to stroke Jamie. “I want you to come on my cock.”
Pressing forward again, Jamie nearly screams in Roy’s mouth, who swallows his moans and cries and keeps thrusting his hips up and into Jamie’s body through Jamie’s orgasm, through the aftershocks, till Roy finds his own release.
For a moment, he feels dizzy and like he’s floating. But it doesn’t last as he becomes acutely aware of a rag doll Jamie Tartt in his lap. Jamie’s panting, slumped forward against him.
“Roy,” he croaks out.
He presses a firm kiss to Jamie’s head, then slowly shifts the other man up till his cock can slip free. Jamie whines. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower,” Roy stands and moves to get Jamie up as well.
“Just want to sleep with you,” Jamie mumbles.
“You will. After a fucking quick shower,” Roy tells him, using all his strength to pull the striker into a sitting position. “That’s a good boy. Come on.”
Jamie’s still dazed in the shower, lets Roy take care of him and clean him off. Part of the reason Roy makes him shower after sex like this is because it seems to help bring Jamie back to reality. After they’re both showered and dried off, Roy forces Jamie to drink some water (which also helps).
“I’m alright,” Jamie says, eyes looking a little less dazed as Roy pulls the Chelsea shirt back over his head.
“I know. You’re fucking amazing,” he tells him, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. “Now lay down.”
Once they’re both in bed, Jamie pulls Roy to him, carving around him as the big spoon.
“Thank you,” he whispers against Roy’s ear.
“Don’t be dense. You don’t need to fucking thank me for amazing sex,” Roy tells him as Jamie’s hand lazily splay across his stomach. He wonders if Jamie knows that every now and then he likes being held. That it feels so fucking nice and comforting to be surrounded by Jamie’s strong arms. “You alright?”
“I’m alright. Jaw’s a little sore. Where’d you learn that shit anyway? Another kinky Greek ex lover?”
“She was French.”
“Well, mon ami, it was fucking aces. Who knew.”
Roy pulls one of Jamie’s hands to his mouth and kisses the knuckles. “And are you…alright?” He means emotionally and hopes Jamie gets it.
“I’m alright,” Jamie answers, his voice already heavy with sleep. “Are you? I know it had to have been shit watching that from home.”
“It was, but I’m alright now,” Roy admits. Neither of them say anything after that, and Roy slowly drifts off in Jamie’s arms.