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The full time whistle rings in Jude's ears. They've done it. He's done it.
He never feels more alive than after a win. His blood sings with it, skin tingling, heart pounding, it's like he's full of lightning. The euphoria of winning is dampened slightly when he sees Erling leaving the bench to console his teammates.
All the emotions he's pushed down in the lead up to the match start to take root behind his ribs. He hadn't let himself think too much about playing against Haaland instead of by his side. It had felt wrong when he'd first stepped onto the pitch, lining up opposite him. They'd played together for so long he had to check himself not to look around for the other man to pass to.
They'd had a few moments during the match, Jude had positioned himself behind Haaland during a free kick. He'd been aware of the other man's building frustration and can see the tension in the set of his shoulders. He reaches out and grabs a handful of Haaland's arse, squeezing it briefly. It works, Erling bats his hand away and turns around with a smile. Jude smirks to hide his own grin.
God he loves seeing Erling like this, skin flushed and rosy, eyes bright. The electricity of the match makes him glow.
Later, waiting for play to be restarted, Jude hears his name being called. He'd turns and there Erling is, pulling him in, palm cradling his head. Jude fights the urge to bury his face into the other man's neck, the smell of his skin washing over him. Erling always smells good, even like this, especially like this, dripping with sweat. Want surges through him, deep and heady when he realises Erling had jogged across the pitch just to touch him.
They don't say anything during these moments, but there isn't much to be said. They'd talked it out before the match, face-timing from their separate hotels. They both know the nature of the game and that no matter the outcome they'd be happy for each other. As much as Jude is praised for his maturity he thinks Haaland is the one that should be modelled. He's gracious and dignified even in defeat, never a sore loser and never a bad word to say about anyone - in front of the press that is, god knows Jude has heard his complaining enough - but it's always justified.
It's bittersweet to win against him, especially as it's the first time in twenty eight years that Norway have qualified. And that feat is due to Haaland. He's a world class player and an even better man. The world has got to see that and fallen in love with him, just like Jude has. Pride and joy clash with guilt and sorrow.
He lets the win seep into him as he makes his way across the pitch, exchanging hugs and back slaps with the players. Haaland finds him again, clasping his hand before pulling him in for a proper hug this time. He dips down, face against Jude's neck, lips brushing his skin.
"You did amazing, babe." It just loud enough for Jude to hear over the din of the stadium. He bites back a laugh, Erling's accent sliding heavily into the British side whenever he calls him babe.
Jude squeezes him, hand clasping the back of his neck as he presses his mouth to the other man's ear. "You were incredible, they fucking wasted you mate!"
Those lips press against his neck briefly and heat zings through him before Haaland pulls back and slings an arm over his shoulder. The heaviness of the other man's body against him is grounding and he wants nothing more than to wrap himself up in it. He catches Erling's smile as he pulls away, giving Jude's shoulders a squeeze as other players move in to greet him.
Post match time always ends up a haze, muscle memory getting him through. Exhaustion starts to creep in, the elation fading from a blaze to a simmer. He doesn't mind all the press stuff but it's always a slog once the buzz wears off. All he wants is to see his family, shower and fall into bed with Erling. It's his post match routine.
He finally makes it back to the hotel four hours later. The rest of the team had agreed Jude gets the suite this time, despite his protests. In the lift up it occurs to him that there's less chance of anyone overhearing anything due to the privacy of the suite. He plans to take full advantage of it.
The suite is luxurious but he barely spares it a second glance, making a beeline for the bedroom. He dumps his bag on the dresser, pulling out a few essentials before grabbing his shower stuff and heading to the bathroom. The shower is huge with a waterfall shower head. He groans when he steps under the water, the heat of it easing his aching muscles. Arousal simmers low in his belly but he ignores it as he scrubs himself clean.
He towels off and pads back into the bedroom, foregoing clothes and flopping face down onto the bed, the coolness from the air con blissful against his bare skin. He groans and forces himself up onto his elbows, plugging his phone in to charge and tapping out a quick message.
Locking his phone again he slumps back down and lets sleep wash over him.
He blinks awake, unsure at first what woke him. He turns his head and sees dark has fallen outside the windows, the room lit dimly by a lamp on the dressing table. The mattress dips and oh. He knows what woke him. Grinning, he goes to turn over but is stopped by a pair of strong hands on his hips.
"Fuck, Jude. Are you trying to kill me? All naked and gorgeous like this. Fucking tease."
Lips hot and plush trail down his spine, their path interspersed with wet, open kisses before licking into the dimples at the base. Jude's mouth drops open as he continues down, nuzzling across his arsecheeks before suddenly there's teeth.
"Oi, I've told you about biting my arse you wanker!" He yelps.
Erling laughs and pulls back, releasing Jude's hips. "I am simply paying you back for earlier, on the pitch."
Jude flips over and finally gets a good look at him. The soft lamp light washes over Erling, shadows highlighting the strong planes of his face. He looks tired, exhaustion clear in the deep creases under his eyes. Despite that his gaze burns into Jude, desire glittering hot and heady.
He's wearing his Dortmund shirt and it makes Jude's heart swell. Those two years they'd teammates had been some of the most important years of his life. Barely seventeen years old and transferring to one of the biggest clubs in Europe felt unreal, still, he'd been a wreck. Leaving his family and his home was unbelievably daunting. But Haaland had made him feel at ease from the moment they met, making Jude laugh with his antics and teasing, their friendship forming easily, light and unburdened. It grew and solidified that first year until it had tipped over into something more.
He can't even remember how it started, a slow build of lingering looks and tension spiralling until they'd crashed together, clumsy and desperate. At first they didn't get to be choosy, snatching moments when they could. Quick, rough handjobs in empty locker rooms, blowjobs if they felt daring. It was a good way to work out the post match stress and pent up energy. That's how it started anyway. It was unspoken but they both valued their friendship too much to complicate things.
But things are never that simple. Jude found himself seeking Erling out before anyone else, which wasn't unusual in their friendship but he'd become the first person he wanted to share things with. Erling became more physically affectionate, touching Jude in some capacity every time they interacted. The other team members teased them about it, cooing over how strong their bond had got, how joined at the hip they were.
They'd share a hotel room when playing away, still having to stifle themselves ensuring they muffled any sound. Always falling into bed with each other, sometimes too exhausted to do more than kiss lazily before falling asleep. And for a while that was enough. Their liaisons never moved outside the world of football. But one night Jude had shown up on Erling's doorstep, desperate and demanding. He'd been going out of his mind all day, unable to stop thinking about Erling's hands on him, the shape of his mouth under his own, the taste of him. Erling had laid him out on his bed and taken Jude apart, teasing him with his mouth and hands, not letting Jude come until he'd fucked him incoherent.
After that there was no going back, they'd both gotten a taste of what it was like to be together - to really, truly give in to each other, not having to worry about being caught or overheard.
Most of the time neither of them care who's getting fucked, but Jude likes how much bigger Erling is, the way his body covers Jude's, the weight of him. He likes how Erling can keep his wrists together with one hand, how he leaves fingerprint bruises on his hips when Jude has an attitude. Other times he gives into the voice in his head, the one that's greedy and possessive. He never gets harder than when Erling bends over for him, or holds his knees up against his chest while Jude pounds into him. Something about knowing he's the only one that gets to see Haaland like this, the 'Norwegian Viking' cock drunk and begging for it, makes Jude crazy like nothing else.
He craves to opposite just as much. Erling's big, strong hands being impossibly gentle with him. He's thoughtful in a way no other partner has even been. He's always the one to clean them up once the post-orgasm haze has lifted, bringing a warm, wet flannel and a bottle of water. Jude comes first eighty percent of the time, Erling getting off on him getting off. He always pulls Jude into him afterwards, no matter how clingy he's being. It extends beyond the bedroom too. He'll rub Jude's muscles when he's sore after a match, run him a bath if he's in really bad shape. He listens to Jude's rants and asks if Jude wants an answer or just a space to vent. He cooks them dinner and buys him gifts just because he saw something and thought of Jude.
Looking up at him now, he wonders how he could ever do anything but fall in love with him. His chest aches with it and doubly so with the knowledge that Erling is hurting because of him.
Jude nudges a knee gently against his side. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." Erling mutters, leaning down again. Jude stops him with a hand to his chest and the other man pulls back with a huff.
"Hey, it's me."
Erling looks at him for a few seconds, eyes flicking between Jude's own. There's so much emotion swirling in them Jude feels his throat tightening in response. They're good at reading each other just from a look, it's why they work so well on the pitch. But it also means it's hard to keep things from each other. Jude raises an eyebrow and Erling laughs softly. He always comments on how expressive Jude's face is.
"Really, I'm okay. I was a bit devastated to be honest." His voice goes thin and he looks away, eyes blinking rapidly. Jude slides the hand still on Erling's chest up to the side of his neck, thumb brushing gently over his earlobe. The other man shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply.
"But I cried in the hotel shower and I feel better." Erling looks down at him again, eyes glassy but warm, soft. "Besides, if there's anyone I'd want to lose to, it's you."
Jude feels his chest hitch around his next breath. And fuck him. He always manages to catch Jude off guard, disarm him completely. He brings his other hand up to join the other one on Erling's neck, sliding them up to frame his face, tilting it down slightly so he's looking fully at Jude.
"You have so much to be proud of, Erling. You gave it everything. You carried that fucking team."
Haaland looks away again and Jude makes a noise in the back of his throat, drawing his attention again. "Now's not the time to be humble."
"What is it time for?" His eyes flick down Jude's body, lingering on his abs.
Jude knows he's avoiding having to give a response, but god knows if anyone deserves a distraction right now, it's him. Tightening his grip he pulls him down, kissing him and sucking that ridiculously plush bottom lip into his mouth, scraping his teeth across it. Erling pulls back with a gasp, pupils blown so big there's barely a trace of blue. He goes for Jude's neck at the same time he drops his full weight down, both of them groaning as their crotches press together.
Oh he's playing dirty. Jude can feel the hot length of him even through his jeans, the material rough and overstimulating on his bare skin. Two can play at game. He runs his hands down Erling's spine, bunching up the material of his t-shirt, feeling muscles flex under heated skin. He curves his fingertips, letting the blunt length of his nails dig in on the return path, dragging across his ribcage before reaching his chest. He finds the hard nubs of Erling's nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger.
Erling breaks their kiss with a moan. "Fuck, Jude." He presses their forehands together, their breath mingling as they pant into each other mouths.
Removing his hands from Erling's shirt he drops them to cup his arse, thumbs sliding under the waistband and he rocks up against him. "Take these off, take it all off."
"Impatient." The other man pants, the deep teasing lilt of his voice abated by the hungry roll of his hips, grinding them together with a delicious friction. Jude presses his head back into the pillow with a whine, yanking at the hem of Erling's tee. He gets the message, pulling back and up onto his knees, spreading Jude's legs as he does so before wrenching the material over his head and throwing it to the floor, stilling as he looks down at Jude splayed out beneath him. Thighs spread wide, bracketing Erling's own, hard cock resting on his stomach. Precome glistens on his abs, skin radiant with a sheen of sweat despite the coolness of the room.
"You're so fucking beautiful." He murmurs, voice husky but reverent and so fucking resolute it drives Jude insane.
Leaning up, he tugs the hairband out of Erling's ponytail, burying his fingers into soft blonde strands whilst rejoining their mouths. And fucking hell, the way Jude is obsessed with kissing him. He could kiss Erling for the rest of his life and never get bored. He tightens his fingers, fisting the hair tangled between them and pulling at his scalp. The groan Erling releases in response borders on a growl, using his weight to push Jude back down again. He kisses across Jude's jaw, neck, collarbones before scraping his teeth over his pecs. Nosing down his stomach he licks searing stripes over the firm muscles there, tongue gliding over the dribble of precome as he goes. He ignores Jude's cock, instead nuzzling over the v of his hip and down to his thighs, moving between them, sucking wet bruising kisses into the delicate inner skin.
Jude arches his back, want coursing through him, body a live wire of desire. His hips jerk in tiny circles, chasing relief. He's denied by Erling pinning his hips to the bed, whining when he bites into the meat of his thigh before sucking the stinging skin into his mouth. Jude's chest heaves as he sucks in air, fingers finding their way back into Erling's hair again, grasping at the back of his neck, desperate for something, anything. Erling doesn't let up until Jude twitches, the delicious pleasure pain of it drawing a ragged moan out of him. Erling licks over the abused skin before blowing gently, the coolness against his heated skin is bliss, his dick throbbing.
Haaland pulls back, sliding off the bed and tearing open his jeans, pushing them down and off in one quick movement. Now Jude has seen a lot of dicks, ninety-nine percent of them not by choice. It's the outcome of sharing a locker room with ten other men. So yeah, he's seen plenty a knob. But all of them pale in comparison to Erling's. It's proportionate to his stature, in that it's fucking huge. The head flushed a deep red, tip leaking a trail down the velvet soft pink shaft.
Crawling back up the bed he hovers over Jude, hair spilling down, a golden curtain over his shoulders. "How do you want me, Bellingham?"
Jude hooks a leg over Erling's, wraps an arm around his shoulder and rolls them in one fluid, practiced move. He straddles the other man's waist, pressing him down into the mattress, palms flat against his chest.
"I want you like this." He smirks, taking in the exquisite blush that spreads from Erling's cheeks all the way down to his chest. Leaning over, he stretches for the drawer of the bedside table, fishing for the lube he'd stashed there earlier. He nearly falls flat on his face when a big hand wraps around his dick, Erling pumping him slowly. His fingers scrabble in empty air until finally they reach the lube. He pulls back, sitting up with as Erling twists his wrist on an upstroke, pleasure coursing down his spine.
"Fuck," he gasps. "I'm gunna come if you keep doing that."
Erling smirks up at him. "Performance issues babe?"
Tossing the lube down he cackles as it thunks against Erling's chest causing his breath to whoosh out with a grunt.
"Nah. Just wanna come on your cock." He shifts back, angling his hips so when he grinds down Erling's cock drags across his perineum.
The look Erling gives him is so heated Jude can feel himself flushing in response. Hands grip his arse, pulling his cheeks apart as Erling grinds up into him, the fat head of cock rubbing tantalisingly over sensitive skin. Jude reaches back and covers a hand with his own, bringing it up and round, sucking two long fingers into his mouth. He licks down the length of them, revelling in the way it pulls a moan out of Erling.
"Shit, you're so fucking hot," the other man groans. Jude grins around the fingers, letting his teeth scrape across knuckles as he pulls back. He guides Erling's hand down, retrieving the lube, squirting a healthy amount over the already spit-slicked fingers. Leaning forward, he bites his lip as Erling strokes down the crack of his arse, able to pinpoint the exact moment when the other realises just how long Jude has been thinking about this moment.
Erling's mouth drops open in disbelief, fingertips circling the plug that stretches Jude open, the lightest of pressure skating over his rim. "Oh you naughty boy."
"Shut up" Jude laughs, intoxicated by the sheer adoration he sees as Erling gazes up at him. Those long, clever fingers continue their exploration, gripping the base of the plug and twisting it gently before pushing in deeper. Jude gasps at the fullness, his dick leaking steadily, wetness dripping down onto Erling's stomach.
He has no patience for teasing, lifting up when Erling next grasps the plug, grunting as it stretches almost to the point of discomfort before finally sliding free. He barely feels the emptiness it leaves, Erling sliding two fingers in to the replace it immediately. As always he knows exactly what Jude wants, without him even saying and gives it to him.
"Jude." Erling pants, voice deep and rough, strained. "When?"
"When I got here, in the shower." He spreads his legs wider, encouraging Erling's fingers to slide deeper. "Was all I could think about after the match. This. You."
Erling babbles something in Norwegian, adding another finger and spreading them, stretching out Jude's muscles. He pumps them in and out, his other hand coming up to stroke Jude's cock again, thumbing over the slit. The first brush of fingers over his prostate makes his moan, limbs trembling at the spark of it.
"Fuck, yeah, that's it. I'm ready." Jude rises up onto his knees, a smug thrill pulsing through him as he watches Erling's big dick twitch against his stomach. He braces himself with one hand on Erling's shoulder, the other wrapping around his cock, guiding it to his hole. He grits his teeth and bares down, the head of Erling's dick splitting him open with the most delicious burn. They groan in tandem, Erling keeping stock still, hands gripping Jude's hips so hard his knuckles whiten. Jude tilts his head back, breathing in deeply through his nose and exhaling steadily through his mouth as he sinks down on the first few inches.
God, he loves this part. The way it connects them, the cloying heat that comes with having Erling inside of him. The hands on his hips loosen, instead stroking up his sides, gentle and soothing. Grasping Erling's forearms he breathes in again, sinking deeper, continuing the slow steady slide. He repeats this pattern until finally he's fully seated on Erling's dick. The moment stretches between them, the deep intimacy of it, two becoming one.
Jude wets his lips and circles his hips, grinding down. The pressure and fullness nearly overwhelms him. He shifts, moves his hands behind him, bracing them on Erling's ridiculously toned thighs. Lifting up he starts to bounce on Erling's cock, his already worked muscles burning as he finds his rhythm, dick slapping obscenely against his own stomach.
"Fuck, Jude." Erling gasps up at him, eyes wide and devout like he's ready to worship at Jude's alter. His lips are bitten red, hair fanned out on the pillow beneath him. He's so beautiful that Jude is helpless to do anything but kiss him. He bends at the waist, arms bracketing Erling's head. It's sloppy and wet, barely more than a heated press of mouths but Jude craves it, licks across every part he can, chasing the taste of him. The new position forces Jude to arch his back, his cock trapped between their stomachs. He moans into Erling's mouth, precome leaking all over them. The slide of skin on skin is potent, the angle meaning Erling's cock nudges his prostate with every thrust. Erling's hands glide down his back before cupping his arse cheeks. He squeezes and pulls them apart slightly, the added pressure and stretch of Jude's hole nearly pushing him over the edge.
"Erling. Babe. Baby." He pants out, so high with pleasure he can't form a complete sentence. Not that it matters, Erling understands him as he always does. He pistons his hips, fucking up into Jude at a brutal pace, strong hands keeping him trapped. Every thrust punches a moan from his throat.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, right there. I'm so close." He presses his forehead against Erling's, eyes scrunched as white hot arousal sparks behind his eyelids. Erling thrusts up again, hitting his prostate at the same moment Jude's dick ruts over the other man's stomach and he's done for. He cries out, cock spilling between them, come covering the flat plane of Erling's abdomen. The world whites out around him, ears ringing, aware only of the ecstasy flooding his body.
"Jude, faen!" Erling gasps against his jaw, hips working, thrusts desperate and uneven as he chases his own orgasm. Jude clenches down on the next stroke and feels Erling tense, his body one long line of muscle under him as he comes with a deep groan. Allowing himself to go lax, Jude pushes his face into the pillow, his cheek pressing against Erling's as he does so. A gentle hand cups the back of his head.
Jude lets himself bask, he feels fucking fantastic. The lingering euphoria of the win mingling with fucked out bliss. They'll have to get up soon, he can feel come trickling from his hole as Erling softens. A low pang of arousal winds through him before dimming again. He hums lightly when Erling nuzzles against his cheek, turning slightly so he can breathe in the scent of him and that fancy fucking shampoo he uses.
Erling pats his bum gently. "Okay if I move?"
He nods, grunting slightly when Erling grasps him by the hips and lifts him up and off to the side. Jude presses a kiss to Erling's shoulder as the other man pulls him into his side, Erling's lips meeting his forehead in response.
"So, I see you got another prize." Erling says, thumb rubbing over the skin of Jude's waist.
He frowns at first, confused to what he means but the realisation makes him snort; the Man of the Match award. Laughter bubbles out of his chest, clear and bright.
"Your dick is the best prize there is babe."