Work Text:
Roy's always known that if he ever gives in, it'll be because of that fucking arse. There's a lot of Jamie worth looking at, but the arse is the bit that makes Roy stupid. And Jamie isn't being fucking subtle right now, practically doing contortions to show it off. They're all on the bed in Jamie's hotel room, Roy and Keeley sitting against the headboard and Jamie stretched out the other way, his feet tucked under the pillows between them, all twisted up so he can put his best asset on display while looking at them at the same time. Like one of those fucking comic book covers with the anatomically improbable women.
He's been pulling that kind of shit for months, and Roy has been ignoring it for two reasons. The part that has to do with being Jamie's coach hasn't changed, but the part about Keeley has, and he's drunk enough for that to feel like a good excuse. And Jamie keeps fucking looking at him, and abruptly he decides he's had enough.
"Go get Keeley another drink," he commands, and slaps Jamie's upturned arse. Jamie's eyes widen, and he's off like a shot.
"Roy!" Keeley objects. "Don't boss him around like that!"
"Why not? He fucking wants me to."
Her eyes narrow, like she thinks he's just being a dick. "You don't know what he wants."
Even though her annoyance looks genuine, Roy can't help laughing. "I fucking do." He can see her digging in her heels for an argument, and lifts a hand to fend it off. "Just give me a minute, yeah? Jamie! Stop faffing about with the fucking lime and get over here!"
Jamie hurries back to hand Keeley her refilled glass. It's just gin and soda—Roy wanted to go out for fancy cocktails, but Jamie was already late for curfew by then, so they ended up just picking up a bottle on the way back. It was Jamie's idea to stop by the hotel bar for some lime wedges to class it up a bit, make it fancier for Roy. He's always so fucking eager to do anything he can for Roy.
"Get on your knees, right there." Roy points to the other end of the bed. Jamie does as he's told, and Keeley's eyebrows shoot up. Jamie looks to Roy, questioning, and Roy shakes his head. "Don't look at me, look at Keeley. Keep your eyes on her and answer this: do you think I know what you want? Do you think you've been fucking clear?"
Jamie obediently keeps his gaze fixed on Keeley. "Now I do, yeah. Before, I—I weren't sure. Didn't know if you weren't interested or just didn't notice."
"I fucking noticed," Roy says, and watches Jamie swallow hard. "Ask her if you can kiss her feet."
"Oh, fuck," Jamie whispers. "Keeley, please can I kiss your feet, please?"
"Fucking hell." She glances from Jamie to Roy and back. "Yeah, all right then."
The way Jamie falls on her is like the way Roy felt giving him that spank—like he's been holding back for ages and the floodgates have opened. He's careful, though, holding her feet gently and kissing them tenderly, reverently.
"Good boy," Keeley says, and Jamie whimpers.
Roy wants to hear that noise again. He wants to stuff his dick down Jamie's throat and fucking feel that noise. He glances at Keeley, just checking that she's on board with taking it further. She grins at him encouragingly and points at Jamie, then at her crotch.
"Ask her if you can kiss her legs," Roy says.
"Please, Keeley, please can I kiss your legs?"
"You can kiss me anywhere Roy tells you to," she says.
Jamie switches gears without missing a beat. "Roy, please can I kiss her legs?"
Roy's dick fucking throbs. "Go on." He watches transfixed as Jamie works his way up her ankles and shins and knees, kissing through her trousers, swapping back and forth to give each leg equal attention. He stops at the tops of her thighs, mindful of the limits of his permission, but his eyes are blissfully closed and Roy can see him breathing in the scent of her.
"You're allowed to ask for things you want," Roy says, expecting Jamie to beg to go down on her.
"Please can I kiss you, Roy, please, please, please, please let me kiss you, please," tumbles out of Jamie's mouth all at once, like it's been coiled up tight in his throat straining to be said.
The rush of blood to Roy's head actually makes him a bit dizzy. It takes him a moment to answer, and he can see Jamie going tense, worrying that he's fucked up. "Yeah, come here then," Roy says hurriedly, and Jamie fucking launches himself into Roy's lap.
Roy hasn't actually thought about this much. His fantasies have centred on ordering Jamie around, fucking his face, eating him out, filthy sexy shit. He thought this was just a kinky thing for Jamie, that the coach/player dynamic got him hot. It never occurred to him that Jamie might want to kiss him like the climax of some fucking romance film, like they're in fucking love.
"Holy shit," Keeley says faintly.
Jamie pulls back a bit, but not far. "Sorry, Keeley," he says, his breath hot on Roy's face. "I swear I was loving it, just... been waiting for this a long time."
"I saw the poster," she says, a smile in her voice.
Roy waits for Jamie to protest that by a long time he meant a few months, maybe a year or two, but Jamie just huffs a sheepish laugh and kisses him again. Jesus, Roy would never have fucking guessed that this would be how Jamie kisses: sweet, soft, eager, smiling whenever his lips aren't fully occupied. Roy feels a bit off-balance from how much he likes it.
"Jamie," Keeley says in her I've just had an idea voice. "Would you like to kiss Roy's feet too?"
Roy and Jamie both tense up. "I—" Roy begins, but at the same time Jamie is saying, "Fuck, please, please."
Roy bites back the automatic "fuck no" instinct and takes a breath. He's having one of those moments he's still so fucking bad at dealing with, when he can tell the intensity of a feeling is coming from somewhere deep but he hasn't managed to join the fucking dots yet. Normally he avoids thinking about it until someone says something innocuous that pushes him into an epiphany, and then he yells "FUCK" and storms off to process the fucking feeling now that he knows what it fucking is. But he can't do that right now. He's not ruining this night with yet another failure to understand his own fucking brain.
"Not now," he says instead. He takes Keeley's hand and raises it to Jamie's lips. "Ask permission."
He means Keeley's permission, forgetting she already said it was up to him until Jamie meets his gaze and says, "Roy, can I please kiss Keeley's hand?"
"Yes," Roy says. He's still holding her hand as Jamie kisses it, and something in his core shivers at how close his own fingers are to Jamie's pretty lips.
"Can I kiss her arm?" Jamie asks. Roy raises an eyebrow until he adds, "Please," and then nods.
He watches Jamie work his way up Keeley's arm to her shoulder and neck and ear, asking each time he moves another step. Roy pictures Jamie doing the same thing to him, touching him like something precious, and when the thought wrenches his gut, he doggedly sticks with it instead of pushing it away. What is it? Why does that feel so wrong, the idea of Jamie kissing his way along Roy's body like that?
"Can I kiss her face, please, Roy?"
"Can I kiss her neck again?"
"Can I kiss her tits?"
"No," Roy says, surprising all three of them. He grabs Jamie's hair and pulls his head back. "No skipping ahead to your favourite bits. Other arm first."
Jamie obediently focuses his attention on Keeley's shoulder, but as he does, he says tentatively, "Can I say something?"
"Of course you can," says Keeley, giving Roy a warning look like he was going to say no.
Jamie looks up at Keeley's face. "Your tits aren't me favourite bit," he says. "I like your eyes best. Not kissing them, though."
Keeley melts. "Jamie, that is so sweet." She strokes his hair. "What about Roy, what's your favourite bit of him?"
"Same," says Jamie. "His eyes."
Roy's guts twist again, and this time he can't stop himself from making it everyone's problem. "My fucking eyes? Are you serious?"
Jamie looks wary. "Why is that bad?"
"It's not bad," Keeley says firmly. "Roy, what is wrong with you?"
"Is that why you had my poster on your wall?" Roy demands. "You liked my eyes? Not my fucking... the bits of me that could do things, you just wanted to look—"
He cuts himself off, suddenly joining a few of the dots. It's not the specific actions he's got a problem with—he could grab Jamie by the hair and force him to kiss his feet no problem, might actually have got off to that sort of scenario once or twice. It's about the atmosphere, the way Jamie is looking at him and Keeley both. Not like he just wants to fuck them, but like they deserve to be worshipped. Like they're beautiful.
And that was exactly what Roy was going for, when he told Jamie to kiss Keeley's feet. Keeley is fucking beautiful, she does deserve to be worshipped. Maybe Roy was inspired by the sight of that poster of her on the wall, thinking of Jamie looking up at her, admiring her. Maybe he liked the thought.
But the idea of that same reverence aimed at himself makes him recoil. Roy is used to hero-worship, being admired for the things he's done, and he's used to being lusted after for his strength and his skill and his endurance, but he's not used to this kind of admiration. No one's ever told him their favourite part of his body was his fucking eyes.
Keeley and Jamie are both watching him cautiously. Roy takes a deep breath. "Sorry," he grits out. "Had a feeling. I'm over it."
Jamie accepts this easily, returning his attention to Keeley's arm. Keeley clearly doesn't buy it, but thankfully she lets it go.
Jamie kisses his way down to Keeley's fingertips and takes one in his mouth. Keeley makes a pleased little noise, and without letting himself think about it too much, Roy reaches over to pop one of his fingers in too. Jamie groans and sucks them both, his tongue running up and down between them. Roy can see that he's hard.
"All right, I'm through letting Roy drive this bus," Keeley announces, unbuckling her belt. "Down, boy."
Jamie collapses to lie flat on his stomach as directed, his tongue already hanging out in anticipation while Keeley dispenses with her clothes. She flings her legs wide and snatches a fistful of his hair, dragging him where she wants him.
This is a much more familiar ambience for Roy. He watches for a few minutes, appreciating Jamie's obvious skill and enthusiasm, before remembering that he gets to grope Jamie's perfect arse now and taking full advantage of that fact. Jamie moans, bucking his hips up into Roy's touch, and Roy ends up with his hand down Jamie's pants teasing his hole while Keeley comes with a shout.
Keeley doesn't like stimulation the second after she's come, which Jamie clearly remembers, because he pulls away immediately and rolls over straight into another kiss with Roy. He can taste Keeley on Jamie's lips, but the kiss still isn't wild and sexual like he always thought kissing Jamie would be. It's almost coy, the way he tilts his face up and kisses like a question, like he's still not sure it's really happening. Roy deepens it, and Jamie lets him, but as soon as Roy eases up he's back to sweet little pecks and smiles.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Roy asks.
Jamie's eyes go dark, but he says, "If I say not tonight, will I get a second chance?"
"Yeah," Roy says. He's got that much self-awareness, at least. This isn't going to be a one-time thing.
"Then not tonight. It'd probably be fine, but I'd rather take a bit of extra time in the shower first." He makes a face. "Sorry, tops don't usually want to hear about that."
Roy chooses not to share the information that he's only fucked two men and he hasn't got the faintest clue what either of them did in the shower beforehand. "It's all right. What do you want, then?"
Jamie does that shy little smile again and says, "Can I please swallow your come?"
"Jesus fucking Christ." Roy slams a fist into the mattress. "Yes."
Jamie leans in to kiss his neck, and then his collarbone, and just like that Roy's back to this fucking feeling. He's determined not to cause a scene this time, though, so he clenches his jaw and lets Jamie fucking worship him or whatever.
He takes his sweet time kissing his way down Roy's chest, stopping at the nipples not to suck (which Roy would not have tolerated) but to kiss them softly with a closed mouth, like he's kissing every other bit of Roy's skin he encounters. He dips his nose into Roy's navel a bit cheekily, which Roy would not have expected himself to tolerate, but he allows it. He never realised how fucking soft he'd be for the little bastard.
"You two are so beautiful," Keeley says.
She's lying naked next to them, head propped up on her hand, watching Jamie nuzzle Roy's midriff. Roy looks over at her, eyebrows raised. "I'm beautiful, am I?" he says dryly. It's not the kind of thing she ever used to say to him when they were dating.
"The two of you together," she says. "The energy, it's beautiful."
Roy knows from past experience with Keeley that mocking any sentence containing the word "energy" is a good way to get himself kicked out of bed, so he keeps his mouth shut.
Jamie finally, finally reaches Roy's dick, and of course he starts fucking nuzzling that as well. Roy is extremely tempted to grab him by the fucking walnut mist and fuck his throat, but he resists the urge. Because Keeley is enjoying their beautiful fucking energy, he tells himself, and refuses to acknowledge that he might perhaps also be getting something out of it.
It's never happened to him before, is the thing. No one has ever touched him like this, looked at him like this. Not even Keeley, up until now. Roy has never felt so... cherished. He's never wanted it, never even considered it. And that means it's fucking scary to face down the increasingly undeniable fact that he fucking loves it.
"Fuuuuck," he grumbles under his breath.
Jamie lifts his head from the line of feather-light kisses he's been tenderly placing on Roy's shaft. "All right?"
"Is this how you always fuck?" Roy asks. "Like you're touching something fucking fragile?"
"Roy," Keeley says sternly.
Jamie shakes his head. "No. Usually I fuck like I want to be somewhere else. But now..." He shrugs. "I guess the place I wanted to be was here."
There's nothing in Roy's clumsy, battered old head worth saying to that.
Jamie ducks down again tentatively, like he thinks Roy is going to stop him. Roy's not going to fucking stop him. He's done fighting. He's going to lie back and let himself be fucking treasured. Or whatever this is. Whatever the fuck Jamie wants.
Jamie takes Roy deep in his mouth, and fuck if he isn't just as good at sucking cock as he seemed to be at eating cunt. Roy alternates between letting his eyes fall closed and snapping them back open so he doesn't miss out on the sight of Jamie deep-throating him with ease. He's going to get to have this again, it slowly dawns on him. He's already said Jamie would get another chance to be fucked, and Jamie fucking loves sucking Roy's dick, that much is obvious. Roy is going to have access to this basically whenever he wants. How is he going to get any work done ever again?
He's on the brink already, driven straight up the fucking wall by Jamie's talented mouth and by everything else leading up to it. He tries to hold it off, but it's no use. "Gonna come," he warns, and Jamie fucking moans as his throat works at the head of Roy's dick, already thirsty for it before it's even there. He swallows every drop of it, sucking until Roy goes soft—which, unlike Keeley, Roy actually likes.
Eventually, Jamie lets Roy's dick slip out from between his lips. "Can I kiss your legs, please?" he asks.
Roy is beyond denying him. "Yeah."
Jamie kisses down Roy's legs the same way he kissed up Keeley's, switching back and forth to make sure they both get equal attention. At the ankles, he says, "Please can I kiss your feet?"
"Yeah," Roy says again.
It takes him a minute to realise that Jamie isn't quite doing the same thing with Roy's feet that he did with Keeley's. Instead of kissing all over, he's focusing on two areas: the arch of Roy's right foot, and the top of his left. Inside and laces.
"The fucking Champions goals," Roy says, and bursts out laughing.
"Oh, and I'd almost managed to get off again as well," Keeley complains. "Are we going to have to make a rule about this? No football talk in bed?"
"If you do," Roy says, and pauses for another guffaw, "the pair of us will have to sleep in the guest room every single fucking night. Are you fucking serious, Tartt?"
Jamie's face is pink. "I didn't think you'd notice."
"So it is about the things I've done, then," Roy concludes. He's not sure why he's disappointed.
Jamie's forehead furrows. "What is?"
"This." Roy gestures vaguely. "The... gentleness." It feels silly to acknowledge it aloud.
"No. I told you already, it's because this is where I've always wanted to be." Jamie leaves one hand on Roy's ankle and reaches out to rest the other on Keeley's. "This matters to me. You two matter to me. I'm not good with talking, I thought..." He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "Thought maybe I could show you. How beautiful I think you are."
"You did," Keeley reassures him. "I could feel it. You did good, Jamie."
"But which is it?" Roy can't tell why this feels important, and he's irritated that he can't tell. "Is it about the goals I've scored, or is it that you think I'm fucking beautiful?"
Jamie looks fully lost. "Both? They're the same. It's just... it's you."
"Oh," says Keeley. "This again. Babe, Roy's all stuck in his head because he thinks being good at football is the only reason anyone's ever liked him, and now that he's not playing he thinks no one will like him anymore."
"Fuck," Roy mutters. He hates it when he finally solves a brain puzzle and it turns out to be one he's already solved, just in a different fucking box.
"Well, that's fucking stupid," says Jamie.
Keeley heaves a deep, long-suffering sigh. "You know, I almost got away from men entirely," she says wistfully. "Now somehow I've ended up with two of you dipsticks on my hands. I give up, I'm taking a shower. Sort yourselves out."
"It is fucking stupid, though," Jamie insists as she disappears into the bathroom. "Do you think Henry is any less of a legend because he's retired? Or like, Pelé's fucking dead, does that—"
"I don't want you to be interested in me because I'm a fucking football legend," Roy interrupts. "I fucking... want this to be more than that."
Jamie shoves him in frustration. "It is more than that. You and Keeley are more than anything to me. Why are you not listening?"
Keeley, dripping, sticks her head out of the bathroom and calls, "Just keep telling him you think he's fucking beautiful until he stops sounding like a lawnmower that won't start. Where's your conditioner?"
"Oh, fuck, I didn't bring any. Wait..." Jamie scrambles over to his suitcase and roots around in the pockets until he comes up with a flask labelled EMERGENCY, which he passes off to Keeley before hopping back onto the bed and wrapping himself around Roy like an octopus. "You're fucking beautiful," he says.
Roy growls.
Jamie does that explosive grin he always does when Roy is telling off someone else in the dressing room. "You're fucking beautiful," he repeats, snuggling comfortably.
Roy growls again, this time mostly just to make him smile.
"You're fucking beautiful, you're fucking beautiful, you're fucking beautiful," Jamie chants until Roy gives up the growling in favour of kissing him breathless.