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The on-field celebrations continued into the locker room, getting increasingly wild and crazy. Champagne flowed like water and everyone had a sticky sheen on their skin from it being sprayed in the air like a sweet, alcoholic fountain. The cup was passed from person to person, its once shiny silver surface dulled by the number of kisses bestowed upon it. It wasn't the most important trophy of the season, but it was a wonderful start and everyone was feeling encouraged by the win, and hungry for more.
Two boys in particular were feeling hungry, but it wasn't for more silverware. Two bodies, clothed in blue from head to foot, slip away from the melee, hands tightly clasped. They head down hallways, deftly avoiding reporters and various other hanger-ons, most of whom would die if they knew what the duo had planned.
The further they go, the less people they encounter, until they reach an unlocked door at the end of a corridor. They both look around, throwing wary glances over shoulders before slipping inside.
As soon as the latch clicks closed, César slams the smaller man against the wall, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. Eden melts into his touch, his tired muscles reigniting with passion. He groans as César slides his knee between his legs, back arching against the cold metal of the door. He feels more alive than he did while out on the field. Eden wraps his arms around César's neck, feeding from his mouth as the best plays of the night flash through his memory. JT and Diego's goals, and the way they dominated Tottenham from the starting whistle; Eden slipping through defenders as though he was coated in butter, and César's unrelenting dedication to defending the goal, the crest, even with a bleeding head wound.
The head wound! Eden remembers, stroking César's head tenderly, fingers passing from rain and sweat-soaked hair to the tightly wrapped bandage. He's ever so careful with him, restraining his grip so as not to hurt him further. César moans into his mouth, but it's from pleasure, not pain as he lifts Eden up so his thighs are wrapped around his middle. They grind together, hips circling, as they kiss, already hard off the celebratory adrenaline.
César's hands cup Eden's ass, kneading and spreading his cheeks under the silk of his dirty kit. He moves his lips down Eden's stubbly jaw, nipping at his flushed neck, sucking just behind his ear, knowing the simple motion is one that drives Eden wild. It's a secret only César knows, the exact way to run his lips over the shell of Eden's ear and the precise moment to draw the lobe into his humming mouth, to make Eden's cock drip with pre-cum in his shorts.
"Fuck!", he cries, reacting just the way César wants him too. He writhes against César whorishly, curving his head to the side to allow César better access to his sensitive skin. César moves his hands up his back, pressing his shoulders into the wall, allowing Eden's legs to untangle from his back, slipping down to hold him up unsteadily. As César detaches his lips from Eden's burning hot skin, he takes just a second to press them to the badge on his chest reverently before dropping to his knees.
Slipping his fingers under the elastic waistband, he tugs off Eden's shorts in one swift movement, taking his spandex under armor with them. Eden's hard cock bobs in front of him enticingly, the head a deep shade of pink, sticky with the evidence of his arousal. César uses one hand to press Eden's hips back, the other wrapping around him, stroking him lightly. Too lightly. Eden struggles against his hold, desperate for more. César moves his hand teasingly, thumb and forefinger forming a loose circle, spreading the wetness from the tip over the length.
"César! Please!", begs Eden, his hips struggling against César's grasp.
"Mmmmm", breathes out César, bringing his face closer to Eden's cock, nuzzling against his abdomen. "I suppose you've been a good enough boy tonight. Deserve a reward..."
"Yes, oh my god. Been so good. Please, please, just...", Eden indulges César, knows his begging turns him on impossibly, knows César is so hard for him that he'd do almost anything he asked.
It works. César stops his teasing, tightens his fists, lowers his head and takes Eden into his mouth. He moans at the feel of Eden's heavy weight on his tongue, pulsing with utter desire. He tastes like heaven, like the end of the world, and everything good that's sweet and pure. César moans, his lips wrapped around Eden tightly, drawing the most delicious sounds from Eden's mouth as he thrusts into him.
César holds just the head of Eden's cock in his mouth, his tongue moving in circles around the rim, sliding over the slit teasingly, savoring the salt that spills into his mouth. His hand wraps around the base, jerking Eden with a grip that's finally, perfectly tight enough.
Eden is moaning and babbling above him, and César knows he isn’t going to last long, not with the emotions already bubbling up inside him, threatening to spill over. He loosens his grip on Eden’s hips, allowing him to thrust into his hot Spanish mouth, shoving down his throat and he concentrates on not choking, on letting Eden get off. He knows after Eden had been abused all match, being constantly fouled and thrown to the ground, that he deserves this, so he relaxes his muscles in his throat, swallowing down Eden all the way to the base.
César sneaks his hand around Eden’s hip as he’s being face-fucked, slipping a finger between the full cheeks to stroke gently at his ass, and that’s all it takes to send Eden over the edge, swearing loudly as he grasps César by the back of his neck, holding him in place as he cums down his throat.
He takes everything Eden has to give, happily sucking down every hot spurt of cum, finger still gently moving behind him, feeling him clench and release in a jerky rhythm. When he’s finally sure Eden is finished, he lets him slip from his mouth, standing back up while wiping at the corners of his mouth. He takes his thumb, that has just a trace of cum on it and holds it up to Eden’s mouth, who licks at it, drawing it into his mouth with a sigh.
As he licks at César’s thumb, eyes hazy with lust, Eden slides his hands down César’s sides, pausing at the waistband of his shorts, teasing the soft skin, tracing over hard abs.
“God Eden, I want to fuck you so bad”, moans the Spaniard as Eden slips his hands into his underwear, wrist twisting and flicking at César’s cock, mouth licking at his adam’s apple.
“Not here. Later”, hisses Eden, jerking César’s dick faster. “I want to scream your name when you fuck me. I want to take our time and I want you to scream my name too, while I ride you all night long.”
The frantic whispers in his ear, and the visual of Eden riding him, bouncing his big ass up and down his cock is too much for César, and he cums with an achingly muffled cry in Eden’s hand, spilling hot and wet into his already dirty kit.
“Fuck!”, he pants, desperately trying to catch his breath, to regain self-control as Eden milks the last bit of cum out of his dick. “I hope the celebrations don’t go too late, I need to get you back in my bed.”
“Later mon amour. I promise”, says the little Belgian. “But we need to get back to the locker room before someone comes looking for us.”
They head back through the tunnels of Wembley, swapping shirts in a fit of silliness on the way there. It’s a tiny sign to show everyone that they belong to each other, without making a big deal about it. When they get back to the change room, they are met with whoops and teasing shouts from their jealous teammates, but they brush it off with smiles, The medical staff unwinds the bandages from César’s head, hiding knowing smiles behind their hands. Later, the two men grab for the cup so they can give it a final kiss for the night, posing sweetly for the begging cameraman. No one sees that behind the cup, their hands are tangled together, squeezing tight with anticipation of what the rest of the night will bring.