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premiership-lads-12

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Subject: Premiership lads part 12: A Christmas Stuffing Part twelve: A Christmas Stuffing Luke Shaw woke slowly on Christmas Day, nestled in a fucking comfortable four-poster bed with a slight winey headache, briefly disoriented by his surroundings � this was not his sparse, laddish city centre apartment. Ah, no, that’s not where he was… It had become a Shaw family tradition in the last few years, renting out a biggish house in the Cheshire countryside, all paid for by young Luke, so he could comfortably spent the Eve and Day with his parents and siblings. It was too far for him to get down to Surrey for Christmas at home, with a Boxing Day game almost always in his schedule, and he could hardly host the lot of them at his flat, so here they were. Yes, he would have to go training later, but only a few hours, and no, he couldn’t have a drink when his dad and brother started getting pissed, but it was good to see them all the same, fucking great, really. And it had been a heavy few days since United’s loss to Watford, with a lot of pressure and speculation, and… Well, frankly, a lot of furtive interaction with the other lads. When he saw Mason Greenwood around the training ground, the teenager looked bashful but excited, barely suppressing a giggle at their shared secrets. Dan seemed to be recovering from his state of shock: he’d pulled Luke into a toilet cubicle just two days ago and greedily noshed him off in the middle of the afternoon then afterwards bantered on about some in-joke as if nothing unusual had gone on. And big Harry Maguire, well… Luke had tossed him off twice more since Sunday in brief, tense moments, but there had been no development of the intimacy that seemed to spark in that Watford hotel room. Luke’s memories of the foursome were bleary and inconsistent, but he knew clearly how it had all ended. Right, right, time to stop thinking about this… time to dismiss his morning wood… time to get himself organised, surprise the fuck out of his family with over-expensive Christmas gifts, and try and make it up to them for being so amazing and supportive all these years… A day of being the good, smiling son, the perfect lad, no mention of his filthy deeds. Here it goes. A matter of hours later, Luke was clad in a cheesy Christmas jumper (matching, of course, with his brother and dad) and a lopsided Santa hat, flitting about the big country kitchen of the rented lodge, helping his mother prepare their Christmas feast (though for training purposes, he would only get a small plate for now, and more later when he got in from training, fuck’s sake). The day was going well and spirits were high, even if Luke was somewhat… distracted. He loved to see his family so happy and excited, though such events were always strange when you were still sorta in work mode, mind on tomorrow’s clash with Newcastle United. Should be easy, but the Toon had won their last game and were having an upturn in their usually gloomy fortunes. Luke returned to the kitchen from popping into the lounge to promise he would join the board games soon. He caught sight of himself reflected in the window over the sink and laughed at his short shaggy beard, a poor Santa imitation, under the flopping hat, and the ill-fitting cheesy jumper of snowflakes, not the most attractive look with his pale denim skinny jeans. And then he was interrupted by a dull vibration in the tight pocket of his jeans. He pulled his phone out and an innocently cheery smile lit his lips as he saw the notification `1 NEW MESSAGE: MAGUIRE’… Luke tried to bite back this affectionate reaction. He knew it was dangerous to become too excited by what was happening. It was just a bit of fun, nothing more. A seedy little phase for them both, nothing more. All the same, he opened the message. `Outside in 2 mins � back lane’ He stopped in the middle of the warm, cluttered kitchen, alarmed and initially confused. Then he picked his way back to the window, staring curiously through it out into the cottage’s thick, rambling garden… then he dashed to the back door, opening it, and squinted out. Could he just about make the paintwork of a jeep through the thicket? He looked down at the message on his phone again, breathless. It buzzed as a second message came through. `Plz � need to see u’ Luke shook himself, dizzied by these text interruptions to his family day. What the hell? He shut the back door, chewed his lip, looked about the dinner preparations around him, and conjured his excuse. Grabbing his dirty canvas trainers up in the hallway, he hopped into the lounge door in the middle of pulling them on. `Sorry � just gonna dash out a minute � need to pick some proper holly for the table! I’ll be… quick, erm…’ He ignored the vague confused protestations from inside the living room and raced back through into the kitchen and out of the back door, slamming it behind him in his haste before rushing down through the wild overgrown garden and almost leaping the little wooden gate into the tiny lane behind it. Sure enough, there was the jeep, engine idling, parked in the screen of the thick hedge, the personalised registration plate on the front reading `H4RRY1993′. Fuck, what was he doing?! Luke grabbed anxiously at the passenger door and yanked it open, clambering up with some difficulty into the front of the SUV, still a bit breathless at this sudden diversion. He and Harry took a lot one another, and almost burst out laughing: the big man was in a similarly cringeworthy Christmas jumper, reading `Feliz Navi-Dad’ across the front, that clashed with his intense glowering face as his eyes met Luke’s. Wilting, Luke tugged the Santa hat off his scruffy blond hair with a nervous giggle, resting it on the dashboard. Eventually, he got his thoughts into words, `What the fuck, mate…?’ Harry drummed his fingers on the wheel. `I don’t have long,’ he grunted, without mersin escort any more explanation than that. Luke thought about the hasty text messages on his phone… `need to see you’, Maguire had thumbed in, yet he couldn’t seem to say those words out loud. `Me neither!’ Luke returned, but not angrily, staring past Harry’s big frame through the driver window, to what was visible of the house past the thicket. `H… how did you even FIND me here, man…?’ He should maybe pinch himself to check this wasn’t a weird daydream and he was still in a wine coma upstairs. `You were showing me pictures last month, telling me about it,’ grumbled Harry. `Recognised it, didn’t I. I’m only two villages over.’ He shrugged irritably like a harassed taxi driver, and Luke tried to suppress the surge of affection for the bigger lad. `I need to be home quick. I’m just supposed to be fetching milk.’ He was kicking the engine back into gear and steering them down the muddy lane. `I’m collecting holly,’ Luke responded in an embarrassed mutter. They met eyes again, in their festive garb, and both burst out in nervy giggles. `Where the fuck does she think you’re finding milk?’ He looked out the windscreen; they were sweeping down the lane onto another country road, and then round a corner into thicker woods. `Where are we going?’ he demanded in a lost but excited tone. No proper answer from Harry, who did not look at him again for the short drive, just intensely concentrating on the driving. And then, almost as quickly as they had set off, the jeep was jerking to a halt on the side of the road, probably a mile at most from the rented lodge Luke had swiftly exited. `Here,’ was all Harry would say, a moody grunt. Both men opened the car doors and climbed out: Harry in a swift, easy stride due to his height, Luke in a clumsier move that landed him in a muddy puddle with a groan. He shut the passenger door behind him, and momentarily shivered at the wintry day. And then he felt Harry’s hand on his arm, not in a stroke, but grabbing, tugging. `Okay, okay,’ he laughed uncertainly. What had come over the big oaf?! Harry dragged him off the side of the road, into the midst of the trees. The cheesy dad jumper snagged on a couple of branches but Maguire ignored it, and Luke almost stumbled and fell into the undergrowth at the speed and force of it. `Hey,’ he half-laughed, catching his balance and pulling on Harry’s strong arm for support, `what are we doing?’ Harry whirled round, his eyes narrow and intense. `I don’t know,’ he hissed, `I just…’ `Needed to see me,’ Luke finished quietly. `Merry fucking Christmas…’ He threw himself at Harry with force, wrapping an arm around the trunk of his big torso and instantly letting his other hand reach down for that loaded crotch; even through thick denim, he could feel the presence of Harry’s prize tool. Maguire let out a ragged moan of desire and squeezed strong arms about Luke’s back, pulling him close; but there was, as ever, no romance here. As Luke, more out of instinct than conscious desire, pulled his head up as if in search of a kiss, his face was brushed away, and he felt Harry’s strong hands on his shoulders, pushing him downwards. Luke knew his job. His knees squelched into the mud and leaves and he grasped at the thick belt buckle and button fly, the lack of romance doing nothing to quench his hunger (so much for no big portions). In the cold of the morning, the warm feel of Harry’s nestled bulge was even more satisfying on his questing hand, his other one rubbing up and down the back of a tense thigh. Maguire just let out a moan; when Luke looked up, the other guy was looking about with urgent caution. Well, they were out in the fucking woods, but… A hand reached down to help him out, and next second, Maguire’s big cock was out, flopping and semi, and Luke kissed at the shaft gratefully. So this was rushed, and weird, and they both had families waiting for them, but… god, it was a beautiful cock. Luke let the fat head push into his mouth and circled his tongue over it, tasting the nervous sweat, breathing in the big man’s musty pheromones. Having Dan’s or Mason’s in his mouth hadn’t even compared. He gripped the denim of Harry’s jeans to steady himself, not caring that his light jeans were going to be filthy, and let his hungry lips bring that big Yorkshire meat to full, throbbing arousal. `Oh yes,’ was all Maguire had to say, and there were his big thick fingers, stroking through Luke’s hair, then his beard, then massaging the back of his neck, while the big dick was pushed further into his mouth, making him gag and splutter and then giggle with relief as he pulled back and caught his breath. Recovered, he went for it again, licking rapidly down the shaft then back, then pulling his lips about its impressive girth. Mmmm. Then, `Get up,’ a commanding grunt, and the strong forceful hands were tugging him up the cheap polyester of his Christmas jumper, and � thump � shoving him against the nearest tree. Luke bashed his head off it but thought better of complaining, dear god Harry was so needy and passionate today! He gasped at the tight embrace, feeling Harry’s hands paw and grasp at his tummy and pecs and shoulders through the jumper, grinding him into the bark of the tree, while he reached down and tugged on the saliva-wet pole of Maguire’s cock. Again, unthinking, Luke brushed beard and stubble and reached for a kiss � `No,’ Harry grunted, averting his strong jaw, `we’re just mates…’ Either as distraction or contradiction, there was suddenly a big hand grasping Luke’s own bulge in return, and he let out a high whine of pleasure. He tightened his grip on Harry’s cock and gave it a good slow pull, really beginning to know now what worked on his dominant teammate. That was when things got different. Harry grabbed at him more, greedy with his hands, and whirled him about escort mersin � again, Luke felt his head bash the rough wood, dizzying but not too painful, and his gasp was more of surprise than distress. Harry was pressing him against the trunk and reaching a powerful hand down the back of his skinny jeans, feeling up his arse through the worn fabric of his undies. `Oh, mate,’ he breathed into the bark, `oh Harry…’ `Shut up,’ Maguire hissed desperately. `We don’t have long…’ he added irrelevantly. Luke didn’t need telling twice: he was already undoing the front of his jeans to ease Harry’s access, and as soon as he’d unzipped, they were being dragged over his arse and thighs by strong paws, and there too went his undies. Luke had been shocked and a bit scared by Harry’s first contact with his arse, that tentative finger in the hotel room, but it had crossed his time repeatedly in the busy days since. `Mmm, it’s all yours,’ he promised rashly, as his bare buttocks tingled in the cold air and he felt Harry’s hand rubbing over them possessively. `All yours,’ he whispered again, as his body was gripped and shoved harder into the tree. `All mine?’ Maguire groaned in his ear. There it was � a questing finger between the cheeks again, tickling at the soft hair of his arse crack, whoa. `Yes,’ Luke whimpered, though less confidently, feeling the pressure on his tight hole. And then another sensation: the rigid warmth of Harry’s dick pressing the side of one of his strong glutes. The reality of their lusty position struck Luke like a Coca-Cola truck at Christmas, and he craned his head to try and meet Harry’s eyes, which were still burning with desire. `I don’t know,’ he hissed back, `are you going to…?’ `You said it was all mine,’ Harry was moaning, one hand grasping at his hand and sliding a finger up and down his crack, the other round the front, sliding up the front of his Christmas jumper to tickle at the treasure trail of hair below his navel. `Isn’t it?’ Luke gaped and panted and struggled internally. He wasn’t sure he’d ever simultaneously wanted and been terrified of something before in his life. `Just be careful,’ was all he could get out of his suddenly dry, choked mouth, as he was pushed more firmly into the support of the tree, a hand on his back bending him over a little: and now there two fingers between his cheeks, massaging at the tight reluctant hole. `You need to relax!’ he heard Harry spit. `I’m trying,’ he protested anxiously, then `Oh!’ as one finger pushed in: it felt as sore and as brilliant as he blearily remembered from that strange, sweaty group session. `Oh god,’ he continued, feeling Harry’s digit force deeper into him. And that was just a fucking FINGER? He held onto the tree trunk with both arms and felt the bark graze his brow and cheek, his body twisting in response to the deep thrusting finger. `I need to get home,’ Harry said loudly, but apparently to himself, and with no real connection to his behaviour � Luke could feel him trying to get a second finger in, and reaching about for his now loose cock to stroke in a futile attempt to relax the virginal sub. `Not like this,’ Luke panted, and he wasn’t sure what he meant: not here, in the woods? Not like this, like fucking animals in the countryside? Not like this, with your wife at home? No… not like this, not this position… Gulping down air, he twist about, defying Harry’s guiding hands, and pulled back on the other shit jumper, dragging their bodies down into the mud and leaves and broken branches, landing on his back, knowing he’d be filthy… He felt Harry on top of him, eyes closed, and kicked at his own jeans to lower them more and open his thick young legs more � and yep, Harry was working with it, one hand returning to the prized bubble but, a finger in, with more ease in this position on the ground. Oh god. `It hurts,’ Luke cried out, grabbing his arms about Harry’s chest, spreading his thighs more and lifting them and feeling Harry’s second finger force its way in. `Do you… want me… to stop?’ The big man was right over him now, breathing down into his face in hot sweet puffs, and when Luke opened his eyes he could see the concern, the protective manliness, and of course fucking not, why would he want this beast anywhere but inside him?! `No,’ he hissed, `no, keep going…’ But he needed to relax, needed to settle, needed to trust… With more intent now, he reached upwards with his face, and his lips found Harry’s. Maybe Maguire just knew that he needed comforting, needed some assurance to go further with this brave first time, or maybe both lads felt the same intimacy and desire: it was impossible to say. But squashed into the filthy forest floor, Luke kissed him, and felt him kiss back: greedy tongues clashes, beard and stubble rubbed, chins and noses squashed, and… mmm, two fingers pressed deep inside Shaw’s hole and loosened him up with sliding thrusts. This went on for brief minutes that felt eternal to an entranced Shaw: feeling Harry’s rough lips and tickling stubble against his mouth, the man’s muscular weight over him, and knuckles stretching his arse. Yeah, it hurt, it burned, but it also felt like a jolt of absolute pleasure up through his grinding body. And then cool air as his hole was left alone but his trembling thighs were hoisted up. He looked with panicky eyes into Harry’s and felt the wet hot tip of that big dick pressing in between his buttocks. `Be careful,’ he managed to gasp, as Harry’s kisses travelled over his jaw and to the side of his neck. `I will,’ Maguire murmured in a new voice, more sensual and passionate. Luke cried out at the feel of it. Yeah, it was a big dick, but unseen, against his twitching hole, it felt even bigger, nothing like those playful fingers. Weren’t you meant to use fucking lube for this sort of thing?! Oh dear god… `Relax,’ pleaded Harry mersin escort bayan into his ear, `just relax, mate…’ `It’s too big,’ Luke groaned, though with a trace of delight and excitement in his cautious voice. `You can take it,’ Harry grunted encouragingly, `come on…’ Luke lost his control of words, just something between a gasp and a scream, feeling himself stretching to accommodate that massive meat. He grabbed tightly at Harry’s arm and side, and felt tears sting his eyes in a mixture of agony and excitement. `Oh fuck,’ he whimpered, `that is… Ohh…’ Harry silenced him with a sloppy, greedy kiss to the lips, and pushed harder. A burst of panic hit him at the animalistic noises both of them were spilling out into the woodland, and he clamped a hand over Luke’s mouth to stall the next howl, forcing himself inside. He didn’t know how much of his length was inside Shaw but it felt incredible. His face hanging over Luke’s was a mask of pleasure, raw enjoyment in his rolling eyes and gaping mouth. In this ecstasy, he let go of Luke’s mouth, and a whimper came out. `It’s too much,’ Luke said weakly, `please…’ Harry pulled back in alarm at the tone and the wet tears in the younger lad’s eyes. `Sorry, sorry,’ he gasped quickly, pulling back, twisting his hips to retreat, his dick slapping buttock and thigh. `Sorry, baby,’ he moaned, and kissed Luke roughly on the neck. Luke let out a cry that was 50/50 agony and ecstasy then, aching from the rough attempt at his first anal, and the sensitive outburst from his lover. Submissively grateful, he scrambled his body forward a bit beneath Harry so he could reach the bigger man’s dick from below, pushing it against his own and wanking both dicks together between them. Harry propped himself and grunted hot, stale breaths into his face. In moments, they were cumming, spattering each other’s thighs, dicks, the lower hem of their Christmas jumpers. For a minute, they clumsily grinded their quivering dicks against one another, streaking and mingling their spunk. And then, with a firm grunt, Harry pulled away and shot up onto his feet. He snatched Luke by the hand and pulled him up with him in one powerful movement. `I need to go,’ he said urgently. Luke nodded furiously, head spinning. `Yeh… yeh… me too… Oh god…’ But lost in passion, he grabbed at Maguire’s sleeves and pulled in for another kiss, but just got cheek, jawline, brushed away now, all over again. He tried to bite down his frustration, stumbling a bit and catching his balance against the tree in order to pull up his damp undies and tangled jeans. `Are you okay?’ Harry blurted out worriedly. `Did I hurt you? I just…’ `It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Luke said quickly, though it fucking didn’t feel it, he just hated the guilty panic in his friend’s face. `I just… You’re… so big…’ He looked down as he said that, watching Harry tuck his still-hard cock into his black jeans, weapon sheathed once more. `It’s okay, baby,’ he said, an emotional slip of the tongue. Harry shot him a glare. `Mate,’ he corrected himself, aloud. `I need to go. My wife is waiting,’ Harry said, sounding furious. `I love her,’ he added in a tone that made it clear what he was really trying to convey: I do not love you. Not like that. He’d gone a bit pale. Luke tried to adjust his jumper and looked down in horror at how mucky and tangled all of his clothes were. He didn’t have long to reflect on this though. Harry tugged on his arm and led the way purposefully back through the trees, down the verge to the road, to the waiting jeep, unlocked and ready, engine never even turned off. Fucking hell, the risk of it! Luke found himself slightly limping, sore-arsed, as he shuffled around to get into the passenger seat, tears still stinging his eyes. `You fell getting holly,’ Harry snapped. `Here.’ The gesture was a weird mixture of thoughtful and aggressive, as he barehandedly shoved a snatch of the spiky leaves onto Luke’s lap, cutting his own hands in the process. But what struck Luke was that Harry had thought behind his own panic and need to get home. He took it gratefully and shoved it into the Santa hat as a little bag. `I fell,’ Luke echoed faintly. `We have milk at the house,’ he added after a pause. `I’ll fetch you some.’ Harry just nodded, kicking the car into gear and haring back around the corner, up the lane, skidding into the sheltered ditch behind the Shaw family’s rented lodge. How long had they even been gone? Would anyone be suspicious? Luke took the hatful of holly and climbed out. He was about to explain his offer of milk, promise to hurry, but Maguire just gave him a worried look. `I better get moving,’ he said, across the suddenly cavernous-seeming space of the jeep. `Okay,’ Luke said, holding onto the passenger door. `You’ll be okay?’ Maguire grunted at him. `You’re sure?’ `Of course,’ Luke promised. Three misplaced words hovered on the tip of his tongue. He found a better two. `Merry Christmas,’ he panted. `Aye. You too. See you in training.’ Harry gave him a very final looking nod, a minimal jerk of the head, and reached for the gearstick. Luke took the hint and let the passenger door swing shut, backing up against the hedge and watching the car spring into motion and away. He staggered up the back garden path and in through the kitchen door. Inside, he faced a long lecture from his mother, harassing mockery from his younger brother, and grateful intervention from his ever-proud dad. Inside, Christmas dinner went on, he with his mini portion, the others feasting. Inside, he sat uncomfortably, his backside sore from what they had tried. Inside, he contemplated how Harry would almost certainly ignore him at the training session later, no acknowledgement of what would go on. But all Luke Shaw could think about, while his mother fussed over his ruined clothes and the family ridiculed his holly-fetching trip, typical fussy Luke, what a silly lad, etc. etc., all Luke could think about… was the taste of Harry’s lips on his. * MERRY CHRISTMAS YOU HORNY FUCKERS! HOPE YOU’VE ENJOYED THE SERIES SO FAR. FEEDBACK ALWAYS WELCOMED. ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS!

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