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“Just a taste, come on Roy.” Jamie’s fingers teased at Roy’s zipper, body straining against the seat belt when Roy snuck a sideways glance. He was flush and squirming in his seat, something that was surely only going to make the situation worse for him. Every movement had to be jostling the plug inside him, winding him up tighter as it nudged his prostate.
Pushing them away from his over interested dick again, Roy pined Jamie’s hands in his own lap. “No road head. Not getting into an accident and losing my best player halfway through the season.”
Preferably also not getting caught with his dick down his player’s throat if they got pulled over. One thing for that to happen with a model when he was in his Chelsea prime and nothing could touch him. He would not risk Jamie’s career for it – as much as his dick hated him for such logic right now.
“But I’ve been hard for ages, need fucking something,” Jamie whined.
Roy gritted his teeth against the plea that sounded so heart wrenching and resolutely focused on the road. Any other time that would have him shoving Jamie to his knees and fucking his face, and Jamie knew it. Knew how to push all Roy’s buttons. And wasn't that the best and worst possible thing?
Gripping harder, he pushed down on Jame’s wrists, channelling the tension of his body to the one point. Jamie moaned, hips jerking against the pressure, grinding into his own hands where Roy held them immobile.
“Please Roy, more.”
“Fucking wait, we’ll be home in 15 minutes.”
Another grind against their joined hands. “Can’t wait.” He did sound wrecked, voice catching on air as he gasped.
Roy’s dick twitched in his pants. “You can have my hand,” he said, relenting, “If you keep yours to yourself and stay quiet. Need to focus on the road.”
“Yes, yes, I can. I will. Promise.”
“Hands on the headrest Jamie.”
He released his grip enough for Jamie’s hands to dart away, leaving nothing but the thin dress trousers between Roy’s hand and his rock hard dick. A small damp patch promised more where Roy set his hand, fingers curling down, letting Jamie rut into his palm.
“Fuuuckk.”
Swearing silently himself, Roy gripped the wheel against the desire to watch.
“Stay quiet.”
“Ummpff.”
Jamie must have bitten his lip, the small sound escaping past it as he rocked up again to where Roy’s hand molded around his dick and balls. With gentle squeezes, Roy worked his hand, guided only by the muffled sounds and the steadily increasing wet patch.
He tried not to think about how Jamie must look, probably flushed all the way to his chest, artfully tousled hair truly askew, the perfect picture of debauched. Roy loved seeing him like that, so strung out all he could was plead for more.
A yelp warned him he had squeezed too tight, reflexively matching his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
“Sorry,” Roy muttered, stroking apologetically as he navigated the west London streets. At least it wasn’t too busy, the foundation having obligingly put their holiday party on a Sunday evening.
Lights from oncoming cars flashed in and out, a show to accompany the quiet music of Jamie’s whimpers and gasps as he rocked into Roy’s hand. Roy squeezed carefully and Jamie’s thrusts sped up; he had to be driving himself wild between the plug and the friction on his dick.
A breathy “Roy-” escaped his lips and he was coming, soaking his trousers under Roy’s hand.
Roy let him work himself through it, hitched breaths giving way to sighs and soft murmurings. Just when Jamie’s hips fell still, Roy gave him a final gentle squeeze; the shocked yelp helped relieve some of the tension Roy was feeling himself. Roy withdrew his hand to Jamie’s knee, where it rested for a moment until Jamie’s inevitable fidgeting.
“Oh, shit.” The words cut off quickly, as if Jamie realized half-way through he didn’t want Roy to hear them.
Smirking to himself, Roy asked in his most innocent voice, “What was that? Still having issues?”
Jamie’s voice was tight, “You fucker, the plug–”
“Which you begged to wear.”
“-It’s so fucking much. Need to take it out.”
A quick glance told Roy Jamie's words were underselling the experience if anything. His eyes and fists were clenched, head thrown back as if that would help him escape the silicon shifting inside him, or the wet fabric around his sensitive cock.
“No space. Besides, you asked for this. Wanted to wear the plug then begged to come. Just sit still and you’ll be fine,'' Roy let a bit of disdain colour his voice, smirking, knowing it would drive Jamie even more wild. And it was true, Jamie had asked for all those things.
The whine Jamie answered with was so high and tight Roy almost thought it was a siren.
Miraculously, he did sit mostly still and quiet for the remaining minutes of the drive. The occasional noises fed the urgency Roy felt, probably contributing to how fast he got them back.
Roy had only just thrown the car in park before Jamie was leaping out, making an aborted race for the front door, hampered when it became clear the plug shifted even more. Between his knee and the aching dick in his trousers, Roy was forced to get out more slowly, but Jamie leaning against the door dishevelled and frantic was magnetic.
There was barely a chance for the door to click closed before hurricane Jamie had Roy slammed against a wall, tongue trying to get acquainted with Roy’s tonsils, dicks rubbing together. Roy pulled at Jamie’s trousers, getting them open enough to push past his hips, leaving that beautiful arse bare. Cupping and squeezing, he helped Jamie grind against him, panting and gasping into Roy’s mouth at every shifting of hips.
Sagging in his arms, the change in Jamie's weight was the only warning Roy got before Jamie was on his knees.
His mouth was hot even through the layers of fabric, trying to get around Roy’s dick despite the trousers in the way. Roy could only groan, grabbing at Jamie’s head, fingers tightening in his hair, trying to hold back from grinding his dick against Jamie’s face. Pulling himself away just enough, Jamie turned his frantic energy to opening Roy’s trousers.
Zipper down, Jamie proceeded to drive Roy to whining, sucking the head of his dick through his briefs, where it had started leaking. The hot, wet swamp Jamie made of the fabric was the best and the worst. Clinging and tugging, driving every bit of control from Roy’s brain.
“I see we missed quite the party.”
Roy’s eyes slammed open looking for the commentator. They found Jan, casually leaning against the door to the kitchen, mug of tea in hand, nonchalance at complete odds with the heat in his eyes as he took them in. Fucking intruder. Why he ever gave him a key–
“Better get back to it Jamie.”
Oh. That was why.
Jamie’s mouth, momentarily distracted from its job, breathed hot against Roy again. Groaning at the renewed contact, Roy held Jan’s gaze, revealing in the frank appreciation.
Just when Jamie was pulling down Roy’s briefs, another distraction loomed.
“They couldn't even wait for us, how disappointing,” Richard said, wrapping himself around Jan.
At the sound Jamie made to pull back, but Roy’s fingers tangled in his hair held him in place. “Don’t you dare, you fucking started this.” His head fell back with a groan at the heat of Jamie’s mouth. Dragging a few brain cells together he bit back at Richard, “Not like we knew you were going to be here– oh fuck Jamie.”
A swirl of Jamie’s tongue left him dizzy with need, heedless of anything else.
Jan was not so distracted. “It was supposed to be a surprise after your boring event, but it seems we get the show instead.” He paused, probably to take in the view of Jamie melting Roy into the wall, before continuing, “What has our Jamie so worked up?”
“Plug,” Roy gasped. Jamie’s tight grip on his thighs the only thing keeping him upright as he treated Roy to every bit of roiling need he had been feeling.
“The whole event?”
Roy’s half gasped, half swallowed, “Yes,” caught in his throat, perhaps the most telling answer of all. “Oh, fuck, Jamie, please.”
The cry was pulled from him by Jamie dropping his nose all the way down to Roy’s pubes and swallowing. His throat fluttering around Roy’s dick was all the extra stimulation he needed, wound up as he was.
Jamie kept sucking, throat working and tongue teasing, until Roy had to drag him off by the hair. “Fuck, Jamie, off,” he gasped, whines far too undignified for comfort as the sensation too on a painful edge.
Reluctantly, Jamie let himself be dragged away, his mouth landing on every bit of skin available where Roy’s shirt had ridden up. He fidgeted, shifting on his knees, murmuring pleas against Roy’s skin.
Trying to catch his breath, he just caught Jan and Richard’s murmured commentary as the buzzing in his ears faded. “—going to help him out?”
“He was very good for you.”
Hands not working yet, Roy tried to shush Jamie’s whine at that, petting clumsily through his hair.
“Why—why don’t you twats get over here and help him out yourselves?” It was fucking hard to focus with Jamie’s hot breath still ghosting over him.
“Hmm, I guess we could do that,” Richard looked to Jan. “À la gala?”
Jan’s eyes burned.
“What gala? Do I need—” Roy started, brain not firing properly yet, but he was cut off.
“Jamie, come here.”
That was a tone Jan didn’t get often, but it punched somewhere below Roy’s ribs every time. Jamie clearly liked it too, eagerly drawing away from Roy at last and shuffling on his knees to Jan. He only made it part way before stopping, whining and pressing a hand to his dick.
Jan had already stepped in to help before Roy realized what the issue was. “Get up, we will get these off you.”
He pulled Jamie up by the arms, his body sagging against Jan. Trying not to get jealous of the way Jan could support all Jamie’s weight, Roy watched Richard press in close too, working in tandem to get Jamie’s trousers off and walk him to the living room.
In the time it took for Roy to start moving again, step out of the wet briefs and trousers, discard his shirt and join them, Jan and Richard had Jamie naked and spread out on the couch.
They looked like a renaissance painting of some ancient Greek gymnasium. Or perhaps a bath house would be more accurate. Strong, naked bodies tangled together, long lines accentuated where Jamie arched between them, on edge from Richard toying with the plug between his legs. Jan’s arms were wrapped around Jamie’s shoulders, holding him in place as he sucked dark marks on his neck. And Jamie needed to be held steady. They were toying with him, two cats tormenting the mouse between them.
But this mouse was only at risk of the little death, his trashing held steady by strong hands that stroked and teased, dragging his body exactly where they wanted it.
When Richard's playing resulted in Jamie arching up and away, Roy could see that Jan was bare from the waist up; his pants halfway off, his cock hard and leaking where it had been rubbing against Jamie’s arse. Jamie’s body came crashing back down when Richard finally slipped the plug free.
When Richard turned away to discard it and his own clothes, Jan took the opportunity to do his own teasing, pinching at Jamie’s tits, tugging his hair, grinding hard against him. The marks his mouth left would be livid bruises in the morning, lingering and drawing questions from the lads at training. Roy would have to bear the brunt of a few jokes for that, but Jamie would wear them with pride and covert looks at the real culprit.
Then Richard's hands were back on Jamie’s hips, urging him up and–oh, Roy could see what they intended. Richard’s graceful fingers were guiding Jamie onto Jan’s dick, a squeeze that must have been so tight with the minimal lube left from the plug. Roy’s own dick kicked in jealousy, or perhaps sympathy, not ready to get hard yet, but drawn in by the unfolding scene and Jamie’s desperate cries.
He wanted to the be one tasting Jamie leaking as he was fucked back on Jan’s dick, four hands guiding the movements. The one fucking up into that tight arse, eyes squeeze shut against the pressure as Jmaie clenched around Jan and Richard’s finger trailed lower, tracing where the joined together.
Or maybe he wanted to be the one impaled between them, stretched wide by Jan’s dick, pinned in place so he could only feel, not thrust into Richard’s clever mouth. His own cries eaten up by Jan’s lips.
Jamie wouldn’t last long like this, on edge as he had been. Roy could see the increased hitch of his breath, the way he shook. Richard knew it too, pulling off Jamie’s dick and helping Jan fuck hard into him until they were both shouting their release.
Lax between them, Jamie accepted Richard’s filthy kiss, only whimpering slightly when Richard’s hard dick chaffed against his, rubbing through the mess on his abs.
Roy found his voice at last. “Come here.”
The only one with any energy left, Richard obeyed, dropping on Roy’s lap hard in his frantic need to come, knees barely fitting on the armchair around Roy’s legs.
Pulling him into a kiss, Roy tasted Jamie and Jan on his lips, wallowing in the gasping cries when he got his hand around Richard’s dick, the length throbbing in his hand. His own dick still wouldn’t be ready to go any time soon, but each pulse of Richard coming felt like it was drawn straight from himself. Richard’s fingers dug into his shoulders, sure to leave bruises he would pretend to hate, but miss once they faded. Until he could get them restamped on his flesh.
He kissed Richard through his orgasm, the hitch of his hips and breath fading into stillness before he separated enough to take in the scene.
The debauched duo on the couch now looked far more like the ecstasy of some underappreciated saint. The flushed mess of their bodies hair sticking every direction, the hint of Jan leaking out of Jamie.
Fuck, there needed to be more as soon as he could convince the rest of them upstairs. Possibly after a shower. He watched the languorous kiss between Jamie and Jan. Or no shower. That could be even later.
Richard shifted in his lap, steadying himself better before demanding his own kisses and pets.
“So,” Roy’s voice caught against his arousal, “so what was this about a gala?”
Jan and Richard exchanged a look and chuckled. He was definitely going to have to find out what this was about.