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Speaking at a high volume is an important ability to have on the pitch. Loudly spoken words travel longer distances, reaching more ears, even with multiple metres of damp grass between them. It allows cross-pitch verbal exchange, and verbal exchange, more often than not, translates into coordination. A team that communicates, especially a team that communicates well, is a team to be reckoned with.
Jude Bellingham has definitely proven his capability of loudness, videos of him speaking (cursing) raucously enough, that it is audible from the height of the stands making their rounds on social media often enough. His voice has perfect depth to be heard across the field and over the roaring masses spectating.
As such, Jude is indeed very capable of raising his voice and being loud, which, as already stated, is more often than not a good thing in his profession.
However, when the open field of screams and whistles that swallow every second word are replaced by thin Atlanta hotel walls, getting loud isn’t quite such a great idea anymore. That is why currently, while Jude’s eyes are rolling back in his head as he is brought to his second orgasm of the night, his choked moans are muffled by the large hand clamped over his mouth. His hips jerk down into the pillow under his hips, his fingers clawing at the sheets as his jaw is held to arch his neck up into the lips nipping at his scentgland.
“Good boy, that’s it. Let go for me.”
Erling’s chest presses lower, fully blanketing Jude’s shivering frame with his own. He continues gently rocking his hips, dragging the weight of his cock over Jude’s prostate again and again – prolonging his orgasm.
Jude whines brokenly into Erling’s palm, the waves finally breaking into aftershocks (which would be manageable, if Erling’s hips weren’t still grinding into him). Erling nuzzles into the now saliva and sweat-slick expanse of skin before him, his lips pressed deep into the crook between Jude’s neck and shoulder. He snuffles slightly, the exhales tickling the skin, before groaning and scraping his canines over the engorged tissue of Jude’s scent gland – coaxing out even more of those addictive post-orgasm pheromones.
Jude always smells good, even on the pitch when his scentglands are covered by professional sweat-resistant pheromone patches, when his skin only carries the tiniest hint of his scent. But it really is something different when the patches are gone and the room smells like a delicious blend of creamy hot chocolate and oakmoss, pheromones sweetened even more with release.
Erling doesn’t know whether they’re sweeter after Jude comes, because they actually are, or because the knowledge that he’s the only one who gets to smell them, makes them that much more delicious. The only one to hear Jude’s adorable, muffled whimpers, see his body convulse with the peak that Erling has brought him and then tremble in oversensitivity because the alpha’s cock is still shifting too hot and heavy against his sensitive prostate.
It’s addictive, his inner alpha preening at the knowledge that he is the one making Jude feel this good.
He nips at the gland again, pushing his hips forward a little harder again at the same time, grinding down into Jude’s sensitive walls. The omega chokes a wail into the now damp heat of his hand and his entire body flinches. It’s gorgeous.
“Shh Kjære, you’re doing so well,” Erling croons.
Jude hiccups, the little hitch sounding suspiciously like a strangled sob.
Erling pushes up a little, his right forearm supporting his weight into the mattress so he can lean forward. He has to suppress a chuckle when the shift pushes his cock deeper and has Jude whimpering on another hiccup.
With his advantage in height and a little adjustment of the hand over Jude’s mouth and jaw, he can easily watch the way Jude’s brows scrunch as his eyes clench shut, holding back the wetness within them with another whine.
So stubborn. Refusing to truly give in and let the tears wetting his lashes fall.
But Erling has not spent this whole time trying to take apart his omega – bringing him to orgasm within the warmth of his mouth, three fingers buried to the hilt in the clenching heat before drawing out another within just a few minutes after carefully replacing the digits with his cock – just for stubborn, bratty Jude to make his appearance and deny Erling the pleasure of putting him back to together again afterwards.
Erling knows exactly how upset and frustrated Jude is by the result of the semifinals.
Jude has worked so hard, his entire career spent proving that he deserves to be on the pitch, that he’s just as good if not better than any other alpha player on the field.
So what if he’s an omega?
The hard work was worth it, garnering him the respect and recognition he rightfully deserves – the stereotypes assigned to his secondary gender falling away in response to his wholehearted effort.
But even then, his image is fragile. He cannot afford to appear too weak or incapable. ‘Of course he’s injured by just that, he’s an omega. They’re biologically weaker than alpha’s, that’s why they don’t belong on the pitch. He’s just asking to get properly hurt.’
Showing pain (real or not) without sacrificing his hard-earned standing among the fans, is a privilege he does not get – at least not to the extent to which many alpha players he shares the pitch with do.
Erling understands. That’s why he always did his best to defend Jude when they played together, his intimidating presence often enough to have the opposition playing nice with Jude, lest they incur his wrath.
He knows it’s frustrating for Jude, that he is not strong enough on his own in their eyes for them to be wary of their behaviour toward him. Pricks.
Jude was still grateful for his boyfriend’s protectiveness though, stepping in on the pitch when necessary. But Haaland wasn’t on the pitch today, he was in the stands, forced to watch his boyfriend be bullied and tossed about without any repercussions. He saw the furious tears in Jude’s eyes as he entered the tunnel and his alpha growled inside him at the unjustness of it all.
When Erling and Jude finally met up in Jude’s Hotel room hours later, Erling could smell the acrid distress and frustration dominating Jude’s pheromones. The emotions were dark and wild, bottled up professionally. But Erling knows his omega, could see the storm behind his eyes, the tears that he was refusing to cry – even in the safety of his alpha’s embrace.
Even while Jude’s body melted – his hands resting on Erling’s soothing heartbeat, his mouth pressed against collarbone as Erling’s arms engulfed his waist, nose buried behind his ear as he whispered gentle praise and endearment – the storm refused to surface. Unhealthily placed under secure lock and key, no words able to release it.
So, Erling did what he always does when his stubborn boyfriend refuses to share the ‘burden and weakness’ of his emotions. He lovingly fucks them out of him.
Which is why now, with his cock buried deep and temporarily unmoving inside of his boyfriend, feeling the hot, velvet walls clench around him, he shifts his left hand, the one that had been muffling all those sweet moans for the benefit of the neighbouring hotel rooms, down to Jude’s throat. His hand sits there loosely, not choking, just a grounding weight as he watches the omega gasp and pant with his now freed mouth. Erling’s thumb lifts, pressing to Jude’s left jaw and turning his head towards himself.
“What’s your colour Kjære?” he asks, his voice low and accent thick with arousal. He watches Jude blink, his eyes flashing with utter adoration as he fights back tears even more.
“Green, Erling- hah, so green, ngh.” His voice is wrecked, his words interrupted by gasps as he slightly tilts his head into Erling’s grasp. Erling smiles softly, pressing a gentle peck to Jude’s lips. His thumb swipes soothing strokes along his jaw, before he leans in again for a slightly deeper kiss. Jude melts into it, moaning quietly and allowing Erling to lick into his mouth, their tongues tangling in a moment of loving calm.
But eventually, the calm must end and the storm must come, and so Erling breaks their kiss to move back down a little. His lips find Jude’s already bruising neck, hickeys of all sizes littering the beautiful expanse of it, his canines gently nipping into some of them as his hips resume their movement – though a good bit faster than before.
Jude’s head falls forward with a keen, faceplanting into the pillow and resting his skull's weight in the feathers and Erlings fingers still curled possessively around his neck. Erling hides a smirk in the crook of Jude’s neck, before picking up the pace and thrusting in earnest. He’s glad that he had the forethought to pull the bed away from the wall a little, avoiding every rock of the bed from banging against it.
A high-pitched moan punches out of Jude again, the angle obviously being just right, and the volume has Erlings left hand shifting from Jude’s throat to the back of his hairline. His thumb rubs tingling circles into the omega’s sensitive nape, the rest of his hand exerting just enough pressure to push Jude’s face further into the pillow, muffling his moans once more.
Jude clenches around Erling. The alpha chuckles, lifting his head from the tempting gland to gently tug at the ear closest to him with his teeth, the feeling sending shivers down Jude’s spine.
“Can you be quiet for me baby? Be good for me, hmm.” Erling’s voice is deeper than he thought it would be, his hindbrain purring at the sweetening scent of his omega.
Jude can’t do much more than keen again, more choked off and quiet this time, doing his best despite a particularly mean thrust bullying Erling cockhead into his tender prostate. He resorts to nodding into the pillow frantically instead of answering with words.
“Good boy, Jude,” he praises, his own words smothered into Jude’s neck again.
One of his hands travels down, petting along the omega’s ribs and waist, before carefully pushing between Jude’s stomach and the pillow. His pace is fast and deep, every thrust dragging stifled gasps out of Jude’s mouth and into the pillow, and Erling can’t help but groan when he feels the bump in Jude’s stomach distend with every thrust. Jude tenses, his shoulders rising when he feels where Erling’s hand is, but he can’t do anything but squirm and cry out when the hand finally presses down on the bulge.
It doesn’t matter how often Erling feels how deeply he fills Jude’s body; it drives him crazy every single time. Within moments, he notices how quickly he is getting close, and judging by the way Jude has started writhing under him, he isn’t far off either.
“Gonna- ugh, Gonna take my knot, Kjære?” He growls, his chest vibrating with it. Jude wails, nodding desperately into the pillow.
“Yes- hng, please Erling, ah, ‘wannit. Please ‘m green- hic.”
Erling groans. How can his boyfriend be so cute. Begging as if Erling wouldn’t give him anything he wanted. “Such a good boy, ‘gonna knot you- hng, pump you full. My perfect- ah, strong omega.”
And with that, finally, the dam breaks. The tears Jude has been holding back since the end of the game hours ago become too much to hold, springing forth to soak into the pillow.
“’M close!” Jude sobs out, his breathing stuttering and catching with his tears.
“Cum for me Kjære, let go c’mon,” Erling groans, his knot beginning to swell as his own peak comes rushing toward him. He pushes himself up onto both his arms, his hands sinking into the mattress where they cage Jude in around his shoulders. With the new position he has enough momentum to sheathe his knot, his thrusts rougher and more intense.
His knot catches once, twice, three times, before ultimately pushing past Jude’s rim and locking them together. Erling groans, his scent spiking as Jude’s inner walls convulse with the omega’s own orgasm, clenching around him and milking his knot.
“So perfect,” he moans, his hips giving aborted little thrusts as he relishes in the high of cumming inside his omega.
He can’t see Jude’s face in this position, a downside he has never noticed before, has never even considered, since this is their first time knotting in this position. Jude’s body is still convulsing a little, occasionally jerking and twitching, his face pressed deep into the pillow, his sounds almost inaudible.
Erling rides out the aftershocks, slowly coming down as his cock finishes depositing his last spurt of come inside his omega. His mouth is curved in a blissed out smile, when he notices that Jude is still shaking and twitching. Erling can hear tiny little whimpers and sobs and he coos comfortingly.
“Oh Kjære,” he fusses, leaning down with the plan of scooping up his boyfriend and riddling him with all the kisses and cuddles he can possibly envelop him with-
A wrecked cry – so loud it is audible despite being mostly absorbed by the pillow – stops him dead in his tracks. He calls out questioningly. “Jude-”
“T’much- ah, can’t--” Jude slurs, his words breaking around sobs.
Erlings brows furrow in worry. He begins leaning down again, wanting to lift Jude’s face from the pillow, not quite able to make out what he’s saying and worried that he can’t breathe, only for an even longer wail to stop him once again.
Erling backs up, properly worried now, and shifts his legs, trying to move into a position in which he can pull Jude up without hurting him. He freezes when even that small movement has Jude sobbing out, his spine shaking. Panic starts to set in – they’ve never been knotted like this before, only ever face to face, this is completely new territory for the now fretting alpha.
“Jude, what’s wrong, Kjære please tell me I-”
“’S too good, hic, can’t- ah,” Jude sobs, his voice a little clearer as he turns his head away from the pillow to breathe. “Can’t- hngg, ‘s too much!”
Erling’s brows pull together, confusion taking over as panic lessens a little now that Jude can’t suffocate in the sheets. He shifts forward again accidentally, instinctively leaning forward to comfort his crying omega, only realising his mistake when Jude’s mouth opens around another cry, his voice loud without the pillow dampening it.
Erling stills at once, but he notices something he couldn’t see when Jude was turned into the feathers. Jude’s face is scrunching up in the way it always does when Erling keeps going right after he has come. Cheeks flushed, brows scrunched and eyes clenched shut, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheets, body trembling and arching as if attempting to escape the pleasure.
It clicks.
“Kjære, Jude, what’s your colour?” Erlings voice is low, his pheromones toned down to a calming note. Jude just whimpers, his head moving in a tiny nodding motion.
“No, use your words, skatten min. What’s your colour?”
Jude whines, clenching around his knot with a shiver. He hesitates for a second, little whimpers punctuating each breath. Then he takes a shaky breath, his fingers clenching in the covers.
“’S green.”
Erling nods. “Good boy, Kjære.” A moment later, he slowly begins lowering his body back down onto Jude, watching the way his eyes fly open as he chokes on a yelp, his gaze scanning Jude’s face for any signs of real pain or the safeword.
“Doing so well for me, my perfect omega,” he coos, his voice almost a purr, reassuring and sweet.
“Yours,” Jude sobs, his back arching even more – an instinctive attempt to escape the pleasure that contrasts the complete submission of his words. It’s adorable.
The alpha finally settles back down, his chest against Jude’s back, nose at his scentgland, arms hooked under the omega’s shoulders, holding him even closer. Jude writhes beneath the weight, pinned completely to the mattress by it. Only his calves can move, from where his legs are sandwiched between Erling’s. Jude’s legs bend at the knees, swapping between kicking into the air uselessly and pushing his curling toes into the sheets to try and push up the bed, away from Erling’s cock.
It’s useless of course. The alpha’s knot stays snug in place, swollen and heavy against Jude’s tender, overstimulated prostate.
Erling’s tongue begins lapping at the moisture pearling on Jude’s neck and shoulders, enjoying the taste, the closeness of their bodies and the way he can hear every whimper and feel every tremble.
Erling sighs in contentment.
Then, because he knows exactly how to push Jude over that last step, into fully surrendering and letting go – forgetting the shitty game, the stress of upholding his image, the responsibility to always be perfect and unbreakable – he grinds his hips down, his knot shifting in little circles that practically squash Jude’s prostate under its weight.
Erling wants Jude to forget all of it, to just feel and let himself be vulnerable with his mate.
Jude freezes. For a short moment, he completely stills, so tense he doesn’t even breathe.
Then he thrashes. His fingers tear at the sheets, his legs kicking as his body convulses around such a sudden orgasm, he can’t make a sound. His back bucks up, uselessly struggling to remove Erling and with him, the pressure from his most sensitive spot. He sobs and yips, and Erling trills in appeasement as he pulls Jude up by the arms he’d kept hooked under his shoulders, pulling himself into a kneeling position with Jude spread on his lap, back still pressed to chest.
The position only worsens the pressure and Jude collapses back against Erling, his head dropping back onto the alpha’s shoulder, chest heaving with each forceful sob as his body convulses weakly around his fifth and last orgasm, the peak arriving before the aftershocks of the last had even fully faded.
Erling glances down over Jude’s shoulder, not even noticing the mess of cum and sweat on the bed, his attention enraptured by Jude’s cock jerking and twitching in orgasm, the head a beautiful, flushed red, but nothing coming out. In his efforts to make Jude release his emotions, he’d also managed to milk the poor omega completely dry.
The alpha breathed a short sigh of relief when he feels his knot begin to shrink. Seems luck is on their side, because Erling doesn’t think Jude would be able to handle a sixth orgasm.
Lying limp and pliant against the alpha’s chest, Jude only twitches and whimpers quietly when Erling lifts him off of his now softened cock. He carefully lifts him into his arms, pheromones sweet in pride and satisfaction when Jude curls into his hold and nuzzles at his chest.
A few steps and they’re in the ensuite bathroom, detachable showerhead in Erling’s hand, checking to make sure the water is comfortably warm. He sits cross-legged on the tiled shower floor, Jude perched in the gap of them, facing him with his legs bent over Erling’s thighs beside his waist.
Using a soft hand towel, he’d grabbed off the sink railing while walking past, the alpha carefully and thoroughly wipes Jude down. Jude hisses when he gets to his hole and soft dick, so he’s quick about it, only cleaning what was painless to get to. They’ll have to take care of the rest tomorrow.
The warm water and tender care have Jude purring and trilling, eyes drowsy and head dropping every so often. It makes Erling’s chest swell with affection and gratitude that he gets to call this beautiful, perfect man his.
A short while later, Erling has stripped away the wet sheets – which luckily wasn’t all of them – and has his boyfriend curled into him, his head on his chest, ear to his heart.
“Erling?” Jude’s voice is tired, but low and serious. Erling opens his eyes, his voice soft when he responds. “Yes Kjære?”
“Thank you. I needed that.” His voice is even quieter than before, trailing off a little at the end. Erling purrs deep in his chest, a fond smile on his lips as he shifts down to press a kiss to his mate’s forehead.
“I’m glad,” he hums, his hand snaking down to pet gentle circles into his lower back, pulling Jude a little closer as he does it. He knows how Jude can get caught in his head after losses, unable to truly dispel and process the disappointment and frustration. Erling knows, so Jude doesn’t have to explain himself. Especially not when they both just put in so much work to tire him out nice and proper.
“Go for six next time?” he jokes. Kind of.
“You crazy geezer, are you trying to kill me?!” Jude laughs.
“So is that a no, or…”
Erling can practically hear the eyeroll, a quiet chuckle accompanying it. “Good night, Erling.” The alpha smiles, nuzzling into Jude’s hair and breathing in his favourite scent on the planet. “Good night, Skatten min.”