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The stadium was roaring with cheers long after the final whistle.
England scored once.
Argentina scored twice.
Somehow, Argentina managed to score once during the eighty-fifth minute, and again during the extra nine minutes.
Jude was fucking crushed.
He can hear the Argentinian team celebrating, hugging each other, and jumping around. That should be him with his team, not them.
This was the world cup. England was counting on him to bring it home this year, and he just ruined it for everyone. He didn’t even score once. That's a huge drop from the last game, where he scored twice.
He didn’t even feel good about those goals either though. Those two goals are what got his boyfriend’s team knocked out of the semi-finals. Erling was unbelievably sweet about it though, just as he is about everything. It almost pisses him off how nice he was about it.
How come everyone else can take loss so well? Why is he such a pussy about it? Erling took his team’s loss wonderfully, he could even do an interview afterwards where he praised Jude for his goals, which just makes Jude resent him even more, because Erling should have hated him after that, or at least should have been mad at him, but he wasn’t, he was proud.
Jude can feel sweat drip down every part of his body, his arms, his face, he can feel it soaking into his shirt. God, why must America be so bloody hot?
Jude’s breathing starts to quicken, pressure begins to build behind his eyes, and a lump starts to form in his throat. Oh god, not now, please not now.
He sniffles and covers his face, feeling the tears start to form in his eyes. He starts walking back towards his team, covering his face with his hands. He bites his lip hard, his teeth sink into his skin, he tries to use the pain to ground himself, but all he can do is taste the saltiness of his own sweat.
Jude glances at one of the cameras and notices that it’s pointing at him. Great, now everyone can see what a coward he is, he tries to make it look like he is just wiping his sweat, but he knows he isn’t fooling anyone.
He knows Erling is watching back in their hotel room. Erling didn’t go home with the rest of Norway’s team. He stayed an extra few days so he could watch Jude play. Now, all he sees is him crying like a sore loser on live television, how embarrassing.
He follows his team off the pitch. England supporters are yelling condolences, and telling them that they played great.
Jude loves his fans, but they are liars. if he played as good as they claim, they would have won.
Some of his team manage weak smiles at fans. A reporter even tries to catch Jude for a quick interview, but he doesn’t trust his voice, so he just shakes his head and keeps walking. He mentally beats himself up for not even being able to talk. Erling could do it, why can’t he?
The locker room is eerily quiet. The sound of heavy breathing fills the small room. He hits the showers, then changes back into his normal clothes. Harry preaches to them about how they did their best, and how they all played hard, but Jude isn’t listening, he can’t.
It shouldn’t matter how hard they tried, what matters is the outcome, and the outcome shows that they didn’t try nearly as hard as they should have.
Jude doesn’t even notice when Harry stops speaking until he feels a sharp slap on his back, his eyes widen and he quickly fixes his posture, standing up straight. He looks to his right, and it’s Harry again, a concerned look on his face.
“Are you alright?” He says quietly. Harry knows how hard Jude takes loss, he has seen the way Jude isolates himself for days on end, training in the gym until he passes out, then getting right back up and continuing until someone forces him to stop.
Jude manages a tiny nod, avoiding eye contact. Harry doesn’t believe him, but decides to leave it alone. “Okay, get some rest. You played great today.” He pats him on the back twice, then gets up and walks away.
Jude is already tired of hearing that. People should stop lying to him.
The team gets back to the hotel and Jude goes straight back to his room without talking to anyone. Some of his teammates try to get his attention, but Jude just walks right past them, taking the elevator straight up to his room.
There is only one person he can stand to be around right now.
He holds his keycard up to the censor, it beeps twice and unlocks. Jude walks in and shuts the door behind him, then turns around. He looks up and sees him. Erling, his boyfriend, who stayed behind just to see him win, and he let him down.
Erling is standing there in a t-shirt and shorts. His hair is down and cascading over his shoulders. He doesn’t look sad or disappointed at all. He is just giving him that soft expression he always wears when he looks at Jude. Usually, that look makes Jude’s stomach flip, but right now, it just infuriates him.
“Hey-“ Erling begins, but Jude doesn’t let him get a word in, he kicks off his shoes and pushes past him, sitting on the bed.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He says, his voice flat. He pulls on the sheets roughly, untucking them from the bed and throwing them over his body.
“That’s fine, we don’t have to.” Erling says, slowly walking over to the other side of the bed. Jude feels the mattress dip as Erling sits down beside him.
God, Erling’s so understanding that it makes him sick. He knows how hard Jude takes a loss. He knows much better than Harry does.
Back when they both played for Dortmund, Erling watched him shut down after every defeat. He would practice obsessively until he was throwing up on the ground, then go back and rewatch the game until his eyes burned, writing down everything he did wrong, and how he could be better.
Jude didn’t just dislike losing, he hated it. He hated losing more than he loved winning. It’s not about pride or headlines, Jude didn’t have a big ego or think he deserved to win. He just feels like he is letting people down every time he loses, whether that be his team, his family, or in this case, the entirety of England.
Erling lifts his arm up, attempting to put it around Jude’s shoulders, but Jude just shrugs him off. “Don’t touch me.” He says, his voice strained with emotion.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Erling says, pulling away. “No touching until you’re ready.”
Jude feels tears prick his eyes, God, he is so understanding, he sniffles, turning his head away from Erling. He shakes his head and gives a sad chuckle through his tears, “I’m so fucking pathetic.”
“Don’t say that.” Erling says. Jude hears the sheets crinkle as he scoots a little closer, “You’re not pathetic.”
“Yes, yes I am.” Jude argues, looking back at him. Erling is giving him a concerned look, Jude is making an effort to avoid eye contact. “I couldn’t even keep it together on the field, I’m such a fucking loser.” His voice cracks in multiple places, holding back tears.
“You’re not a loser, baby. It’s completely normal to feel disappointed. You’re not pathetic for crying.” Erling says, trying to catch his eye.
Eventually, Jude’s shoulders start shaking. He can’t hold back anymore. He sniffles, then a small sob escapes his lips.
“Oh, Jude.” Erling whispers, Jude scoots closer to the blonde, hides his face in his chest, and finally lets his avalanche of feelings out, hands gripping at Erling’s t-shirt.
Erling wraps both arms around him, one on the back of his head, and the other on his back, moving it in slow circles. He lets him sob into his shirt, knowing how badly he needs this.
Jude is far more emotional than he lets on. He is a very sweet man who wears his heart on his sleeve. He has always hated this fact about himself, but Erling thinks it’s the most endearing quality about him. Not all athletes are as in tune with their emotions as Jude is. Most force them down until they eventually explode. But Jude doesn’t let himself explode. When Jude doesn’t let himself cry, he always ends up throwing himself into practice and working himself into the ground, which is why Erling always lets him cry into him.
Whenever Erling hears that Real Madrid lost a match, he always facetimes Jude, letting him know he is there for him, letting him cry to him over the phone, and if Jude doesn’t respond or let himself cry, he texts Harry and tells him to keep an eye on Jude.
“I’m sorry- I’m sorry-“ Jude sobs out, trying to stop himself from crying.
“No apologies, okay? This is a healthy outlet. You can always cry around me if you need to.” He says, resting his chin on top of Jude’s head.
“I couldn’t bring it home.” Jude cries. “We were so close.” He says, his voice high pitched and wet. Erling holds onto him tighter.
“It’s not solely up to you, Jude. It’s not your fault.” Erling doesn’t shush him, or tell him to calm down, he knows by now that it won’t help.
“I let everyone down.” He says, another sob leaving his lips, his tears soak into Erling’s shirt.
Erling shakes his head, “Look at me.” Jude shakes his head, Erling kisses the top of his head. “Jude, please look at me.” He repeats. He slowly lifts his head from Erling’s chest and looks up at him, his eyes rimmed red, his face wet, his bottom lip quivering slightly. The sight is heartbreaking. Nobody as sweet as Jude should be reduced to tears like this.
Erling holds his face with both hands. “You played an amazing game.” Jude starts shaking his head, Erling gently holds his head still. “No, no, you did. You ran for a hundred minutes straight. Even if you don’t believe it, you did absolutely incredible.”
Jude lets out a small sob, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, his breathing shaky and short. He rests his cheek back on Erling’s chest, continuing this routine until he starts breathing normally again.
“I hate this.” Jude says, his voice soft and weak. “I can’t handle losing.” He sniffles, wiping his eyes. “I wish I was more like you.”
Erling looks down at him, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?” He asks.
Jude looks up at his boyfriend. “I scored two goals against you, and you weren’t mad at me.” He says, his voice breaking again. “Even after your loss, you still did an interview and you even praised me for playing well.” His voice is all wobbly, another sob threatening to escape. “I wish I could handle these things as well as you.”
Erling shakes his head. “No, Jude, our situations aren’t even comparable.” He says, rubbing his back. “The fact that Norway even made the world cup was a win, making the quarter-finals was a miracle.” He says, Jude looks up at him. “There’s more pressure on you. We were just happy to be included at all.”
Jude cracks a small smile. “Just happy to be there?”
Erling smiles back, “Pretty much.”
Jude smiles for a few more seconds, then it fades, he looks up at Erling. “I still feel like everyone is disappointed in me.” He says quietly.
Erling frowns. “I’m proud of you.”
Jude chuckles sadly, “Thank you, but you’re not the entirety of England.”
“If anyone in England gives you a hard time, I’ll fly over immediately and show them who they’re messing with.” He says, completely serious. Which, to be honest, he probably is. Jude knows him well enough to know that.
Jude shakes his head, looking down again. “I just need to keep my mind off of it.” He says. “I can already tell I’m gonna be up all night thinking about it.”
Erling looks down at Jude, “Look at me.” This time, he looks up immediately.
Erling untangles his arms from his hold around his boyfriend and brings them to his face. He leans down, giving him a soft kiss on the lips, then on the tip of his nose, then on both eyelids, he keeps going until he is peppering his face with kisses. Jude chokes out a laugh. “Stop it! Erling!” He says, but he is relentless.
Eventually, Jude sits up, scooting forward onto Erling’s lap until their chests are touching. They stare at each other for a moment, then, Jude leans in and kisses him. Erling earnestly kisses back, it’s soft, just a way to distract Jude from his own mind.
Jude wraps his arms around Erling’s neck, making sure he doesn’t catch any of his hair whilst doing so. He pulls himself closer. Erling holds his waist, his thumbs moving in little circles against the fabric of his shirt.
Judes breathing picks up, he knows Erling can feel it. He is starting to get worked up in a way that nobody should be after losing one of the biggest sporting events ever.
Jude needs a way to get his mind off of things.
Erling knows exactly how to do that for him.
Erling’s tongue starts prodding at Judes bottom lip, he makes a small noise in surprise, and then opens his mouth wider. One of Erling’s hands trails up to the back of his head, pushing them closer and deepening the kiss. Their tongues fight for dominance, a fight that Jude is rapidly losing.
Erling’s other hand slowly drags down from his waist, to his upper thigh, then trails to his crotch. Jude’s eyes widen, he pulls away, a small string of saliva still connecting them together. “Woah- Erling what-“
“Shush.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You wanted to keep your mind off of things, didn’t you?” He says, applying minimal pressure to his dick through his shorts, just trying to rile him up.
Jude wanted to keep his mind off things, but this isn’t exactly what he had in mind…
That being said… It’s not a bad idea, and it will definitely distract him for a few hours. But they’re in a hotel surrounded by his team mates, and if anyone finds out Jude snuck in Erling, they could both get in serious trouble.
Jude looks down at Erling’s hand, then back up at him, he looks a little apprehensive. “People might hear.” Jude says, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re not even allowed to be here, I could get in-“
Jude is cut off by Erling applying a lot more pressure to his dick, pushing the heel of his hand onto his rapidly hardening bulge and moving it up and down. The rough texture of his shorts drag on his dick only amplifies the pleasure. “Don’t think about that right now, don’t think about anything, just focus on me tonight, okay?”
“What are you- What do you mean by that?” Jude bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back his sounds, he has always been a little loud. He leans forward and muffles himself in the crook of Erling’s neck.
Erling chuckles, he can hear his muffled whimpers and feel his hot breath against the skin of his neck. He loves making Jude go all weak and pliant for him, it just makes him want to give Jude more. “I mean that I don’t want you to think tonight, baby. Let me handle all the thinking for you.”
He moves his hand faster over the bulge in his pants and Jude’s breath hitches, his hips bucking into his hand unconsciously. Erling can already feel the heat radiating off of Jude’s face.
“Yeah- okay- I think I understand. Oh my god- Erling I can’t.” Jude whispers into his neck. Erling smiles, his other hand moving from the back of Jude’s head to his back, rubbing in small circles. The contrast between the roughness of one hand and the gentleness of the other is enough to make Jude’s head spin.
“Are you enjoying yourself that much? I haven’t even properly touched you.” Erling whispers into his ear, planting a small kiss on his temple. Jude looks down, seeing a small wet patch soaking into his shorts.
God, he hates it when Erling says dumb shit like that. Jude makes a frustrated grunting sound that’s almost funny. He moves to weakly push Erling’s shoulder. “Shut up…” he breathes out, that same hand grabbing a handful of Erling’s shirt, holding on tight, the other arm still wrapped up around his neck.
Jude’s breathing starts to pick up and his hips start to press into Erling’s hand with increasing pressure. His breathing stutters and his small noises get progressively louder.
“Are you getting close?” Erling asks, he doesn’t really have to move his hand anymore, Jude is pretty much doing all the work for him.
“Yesss...” He says, his words drawn out and lazy. Erling smiles and grabs a fistful of Jude’s hair and pulls his head up. His face is all sweaty and flushed, he looks adorable like this. Erling crashes their lips together, his tongue slides into Jude’s mouth easily, silencing any noises he may let slip out.
Jude thinks that it’s a little unusual that Erling is letting him cum so quickly. Erling can be a tease, he usually makes Jude work for his orgasm, forces him to beg until his throat goes raw, and still doesn’t let him finish.
But today, Jude cried in front of him, so he presumes he is gonna take it easier on him today.
Jude lets out a long, drawn out moan into Erling’s mouth as he finishes. He cums in his shorts, creating a big wet patch right where his crotch is. Erling kisses him through his orgasm. He doesn’t stop moving his hand until Jude’s hips stop jerking forward. Once he stops, Erling pulls away his hand, now slightly damp.
Erling pulls away, smiling at Jude, who is blushing hard and refusing to look at him. He doesn’t wanna look the person in the eye who just made him cum his fucking shorts.
“God, these feel disgusting.” He says, looking at his shorts. Erling chuckles, taking a hair tie off his wrist and putting his hair in a quick bun. He pushes hard on Jude’s chest, making him fall onto his back on the mattress.
“Put your legs up.” He says, Jude looks away, but he still complies. Erling sticks his thumbs down the waistband and slides his shorts and boxers off in one go. Jude puts his legs down. “Does that feel better, princess?” He kneels in between his legs.
Jude blinks at the nickname, then reaches up and shoves Erling’s chest. “Shut up! Don’t call me that!” Erling just laughs at him, even Jude can’t stop the smile from creeping on his face.
Erling leans over him, lowering himself until he can plant a kiss on Jude’s forehead, then he sits back on his knees. “Flip over.”
Jude lifts his head up, he looks a little confused. “We aren’t done?” Usually, when they have sex after big matches like today, they don’t go multiple rounds because they don’t want to exhaust themselves any more than they already did.
“What about any of this made you think we were done?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. “Now flip over.”
Jude frowns. “Asshole..” he mutters, flipping himself over until he is on all fours. Erling puts his hand on Jude’s upper back, pushing him down until his chest hits the mattress, leaving his lower half sticking up.
Judes face immediately heats up, “No- Erling come on, you know I hate this position.” Jude says, lifting himself back up, but Erling pushes him down again, rougher this time.
Erling is fully aware of Judes “dislike” of this position. It’s not that it minimizes pleasure or makes him feel used or anything like that, it’s just that it’s really embarrassing and he thinks it makes him look like a total slut.
Erling doesn’t care, Jude knows he doesn’t. Erling respects hard boundaries, but things Jude refuses to do because they are too embarrassing? Erling doesn’t listen.
“Don’t think about the position, Jude, it doesn’t have to be embarrassing in front of me.” He trails his hands up his back, reaching the helm of his shirt. “Don’t think about being embarrassed, don’t think about anything, just focus on the pleasure, okay?”
It’s kind of hard to think about anything in this position. Jude doesn’t know how he’s already so worked up again after already cumming once. It’s ridiculous how Erling is able to have this effect on him.
Erling shuffles behind him, and then Jude hears the sound of a cap opening, a sound all too familiar to him. He looks behind him and sees Erling putting a generous amount on his fingers. Erling sees him staring and flashes a smile at him. Jude’s face turns bright red and he immediately turns back around, Erling chuckles at him.
Jude hears the bottle of lube get tossed to the side. Then he feels one hand rest on his lower back, the other one getting dangerously close to his entrance. He wants it, actually no, he needs it, he needs it now.
“Erling please, please I need it.” He whispers, nudging his hips back towards his fingers. Erling’s hand moves from his lower back to his waist, stopping his movements.
“Relax.” Erling says flatly, he presses one finger against his entrance, not pushing in, just resting there. Fucking tease.
“No- come on please, I-“ Suddenly, Jude is cut off by a sharp cracking sound, pain blooms across his ass, he yelps loudly, and whips his head around, he didn’t expect that at all. “What the hell?” He says, anger in his voice.
“I told you to relax, you should have listened the first time.” Fuck, he can really be an ass sometimes.
“Okay, okay fuck, I’m sorry.” Jude says, obviously not really sorry, but Erling lets it slide.
Erling places his hand back down on his lower back. “Now relax, and don’t think. Don’t be a brat.”
Jude huffs. He scowls at the bedsheets and shoves his face back in them.
He feels Erling’s finger trace his entrance, it’s infuriating, he doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t wanna get spanked again, but he is starting to get really pissed over it.
The little patience Jude had left is waning. If Erling doesn’t do something soon, he might actually throw a tantrum, which will probably result in more teasing. But, for once in his life, Erling must take pity on him or something, because he pushes in two fingers.
The lube helps them slip right in, the stretch more pleasurable than painful, a small moan slips past Jude’s lips.
Erling’s fingers are long and muscular, so they go pretty deep. Erling stalls for a moment, even though he can be pretty rough sometimes, he always makes sure to check in on Jude. It’s a quality that he has always been thankful for.
“Can I move?” He asks, his voice taking on a new softness. Jude nods rapidly, he might actually die if he doesn’t start moving. Erling chuckles, and slowly starts moving his fingers.
He is focusing more on stretching him than actually finger-banging him. Erling is scissoring his fingers, twisting them around inside of him, all the sensations are making Jude’s toes curl.
Small moans are pushed out of him, with every plunge of his fingers. Erling’s hand feels warm on his back. He curls his fingers into the bedsheets.
Jude is by no means a short man, he’s six-foot-one and one-hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle. He is rarely the shortest person in the room. But Erling makes him feel small. Even though he is only four inches taller, the way he controls him so easily makes Jude feel weak sometimes, he loves it more than he is willing to admit. Even the simple gesture of his hand on his lower back shows how much control he has over him, and how willing Jude is to submit to him.
The pads of Erling’s fingers press into something inside of Jude that makes his entire body jump. His body jerks back onto his fingers, a whine drags out from his throat.
Erling smirks behind him. “What? You like that spot?” He asks, clearly already knowing the answer. Jude nods anyway, whining as he rolls his hips back onto his fingers.
The hand on his back pushes down slightly, not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough to get his point across. “Remember what I said, focus on the pleasure, don’t think, let me take care of all the thinking for you.”
Jude lets out a frustrated whine, a chuckle emits from behind him, but Erling doesn’t leave him hanging long, he starts pushing his fingers into that spot while stretching him. The pleasure radiates throughout his body, his untouched cock twitches, pre-cum bubbling at the tip.
Jude obediently stays still as Erling plays with his prostate, hitting that spot every single time. Jude starts to shake, clawing at the sheets as the noises pour out of him, he can’t stop them anymore, and he isn’t sure he wants to.
“There you go, just taking it like you should, aren’t things easier when you can just turn your brain off?” Erling’s voice rings into his ears. He didn’t really notice it before, but he’s right, he can’t think right now, all his mind is doing is repeating the same name over and over again.
Erling, Erling, Erling.
When he can just relax like this, he isn’t thinking about anything, not his embarrassment, not about the sounds coming out of his mouth, he can just let go.
Erling’s fingers speed up, and Jude cries out, his body squirms while Erling attempts to hold him still, he is close, so, so close.
“Erling…” he whispers out, he doesn’t even have to announce it, he already knows.
“Go ahead.” Erling says, twisting his fingers. “You can cum as many times as you want today.” He says, continuing to press his fingers into his sweet spot, it’s not about stretching him anymore.
Jude cries out, his dick spitting out ropes of cum onto the bedsheets below, his body keeps jerking back onto his fingers until his orgasm passes through. After Jude finishes, Erling pulls his fingers out, he wipes his fingers on the bed sheets while his other hand slides under his shirt to gently rub his back.
Jude slowly shuts his eyes, taking a second to breathe, enjoying the feeling of Erling’s warm hand on his back. The silence is relaxing, neither of them feel pressure to speak.
Both of Erling’s hands settle on his hips, and he slowly starts to turn him over, Jude easily turns for him, now lying on his back, looking up at his beautiful boyfriend. He stares blankly, his thoughts trying to catch up with him, all he can manage is a small smile.
Erling strokes his hair, “You don’t have to think baby, just lay there and let me take care of you.”
The hand in his hair feels comforting, Jude slowly shuts his eyes, just relaxing in the comfort that Erling naturally provides.
He feels Erling grab the helm of his shirt, he starts pulling it up, Jude puts his arms up so it’s easier to get off. Once he slides it off, it’s thrown on the ground.
Erling’s hands run over his abs, “You’re so hot.” He mutters, Jude opens his eyes again, unable to process his words.
Erling then sits back on his knees and slips his own shirt off, Jude stares at his toned body. He is more muscular than Jude, the guy is built like a fucking brick wall.
Erling slides off his shorts, leaving both of them finally completely naked. His dick is fucking long and intimidating. Jude has taken it plenty of times, yet every single time he sees it, he gets that familiar feeling of anxiety all over again. Erling, seemingly sensing his anxiety, leans down and kisses Jude on the lips, it’s sweet and quick, he pulls back and grabs his legs, spreading them slightly.
Erling grabs the lube again, pouring some on his hands, and then spreading it on his dick, Jude can’t tear his eyes away from the scene. Erling wipes the excess on the bedsheets, and then he interlocks his hands with Jude and pins them above his head.
“Are you ready?” He whispers, lining himself up with his hole. Jude simply nods because he can’t will himself to speak right now.
Erling smiles and plants one last kiss on his cheek, then pushes in.
Erling is a big, muscular guy, and his dick is proportional to his size. Jude whimpers at the stretch, his legs kicking a little.
“It’s okay, just take it, you’re okay.” Erling comforts him the best he can, he keeps sliding in until he bottoms out and Jude can feel his hips on his ass. Erling isn’t moving, letting Jude get used to it, he peppers his face in kisses, being as patient as he can.
Jude’s breathing is shaky, beads of sweat form on his forehead, his face is slightly scrunched up. Slowly, he starts to relax around the intrusion, and after a minute or two, the stretch starts to feel more pleasurable than painful.
Jude looks up at him and nods his head, “Move, please.” He says, his voice cracking halfway through, Erling smiles and starts moving, slowly at first.
A moan slips past Judes lips, and he tries to grab onto Erling’s shoulders or something, but he is still being held down. He just holds his hands a little tighter instead.
Jude can’t think like this, not that he really could earlier, his brain is all scrambled. Erling isn’t even going fast yet, and he is already reduced to this.
“There we go.” Erling says. He starts thrusting faster. “You’re getting dumber.” He points out, and he’s right, he is getting dumber. He moans louder as the speed picks up, any thought that forms in his brain is either Erling’s name or about his own pleasure.
Suddenly, Jude’s back arches, a loud little keen escapes his throat, pleasure explodes throughout his body. Erling’s face breaks into a smile, he knows what he just hit.
He speeds up again, hitting that spot every single time. Jude is a squirming mess, his moans just pour out of him now, he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. He wraps his legs around Erling’s waist, pulling him even closer.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Erling says, clearly out of breath. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
Any words that Erling says just adds to the static in his brain. His head is empty, all he can do is lay there and focus on his own pleasure.
His eyes suddenly go blurry, he tries to blink it away, but then he feels something warm trickle down his cheeks, oh god, he’s crying.
Usually, Jude hates crying, and he would try to hide himself, but he can’t will himself to hide right now, he wants to keep looking up at his boyfriend, he wants to keep feeling everything that he’s feeling. He knows he is being too loud, he doesn’t care, and neither does Erling.
He feels warmth begin to pool in his lower abdomen for the third time this evening, his body jerks upwards, he starts whimpering, looking up at Erling desperately.
Erling knows what he wants, he always does. “Do it.” He says simply.
Jude’s eyes squeeze shut, he moans loudly as he cums across his stomach and chest, Erling fucks him through it, it’s an indescribable, euphoric feeling.
Erling doesn’t look very far behind, sweat drips down from his forehead, he is breathing pretty hard, and he has a death grip on his hands. “Jude, I’m close.” He breathes out.
Jude tightens his toned legs around Erling’s waist, suddenly thankful that all those years of football made him strong enough for this. Erling shoves his face in the crook of Judes neck, and groans as he unloads inside of him.
The warmth spreads through his body, soft whimpers escape his throat, and he is now feeling splendidly tired.
They sit like that for about five minutes, just catching their breath. Jude’s brain starts to come back after being checked out for so long, his thoughts slowly beginning to form back in his brain.
Erling lifts his head up and smiles at him, letting go of his hands finally. Jude moves his fingers around, trying to get the circulation back. Erling slowly pulls out and Jude whimpers at the empty feeling. Erling grabs the box of complimentary tissues from the night stand, and wipes the mess off of Judes stomach and chest.
“Where are my clothes?” Jude mumbles sleepily, Erling stands up and grabs a random shirt and throws it at Jude, he catches it easily. “This isn’t mine.”
“It’s mine.” Erling says, “Put it on.”
Jude’s too tired to argue, he slips it on, Erling hands him his boxers too, he slides those on as Erling also puts on a shirt and boxers.
Jude crawls under the covers of the bed, Erling joins him shortly after, he collects Jude in his arms, one hand on his back, the other in his hair, Jude snuggles into Erling’s chest.
“So… are you still sad?” Erling asks.
Jude furrows his eyebrows. “Sad about what?”
Erling smiles, “Nothing, sorry, go to sleep.”
Weirdo, Jude closes his eyes. “Love you.”
Erling runs his fingers through his hair. “Love you too.”