gay spice & softness iâm leaveanote on ao3 sideblog, made mainly to worship the bard there will also be gay pirate content bc ofmd is too good fics are often 18+ they/them
(essentially all just spice and softness, almost all are also on ao3 â also thereâs a few shorter ficlets i havent put on here yet, but you can find them and all my writing at #welcomemysentence writes!)
earn it (5.9k, explicit): It's because he needs help with Ciri's training, that he goes to search for Jaskier. That's what Geralt tells himself.
like lute-wood, and the fireplace (6k, explicit): Geralt hadn't realized having Jaskier at Kaer Morhen would feel so...right.
the shape of dawn (6.5k explicit): When Jaskier needs rescuing from a monster outside Kaer Morhen, certain buried truths come to light.
how unreasonably in love I am with everything you do (6.2k, explicit): In which Jaskier wears a pretty dress, and Geralt gets very taken care of.
weaves and threads (5.5k, explicit): Jaskier returns to their room at the inn too tired to undo the intricate lacings of his clothes. Geralt...helps. Turns out thereâs quite a bit Jaskierâs not too tired for.
winter ficlet masterpost (g/t unless otherwise specified): soft, standalone winter ficlets, in no order
tying me to you (4.4k, explicit): Jaskier asks his husband to tie him up and take him, hard.
begin again (1.9k, g): itâs a new year, and Geralt has a three word confession. also, roach ships it.
dal segno (2.4k, g): if Duny showed up just an hour later - they might have danced. Jaskier leads.
courting swans (900 words, g): thatâs totally one of Jaskierâs chemises, that Geralt wore to the banquet. missing scene.
honey honey (1.6k, t): three months post-love confession, Jaskier debuts a new song. yes, itâs the one from mamma mia. look, I couldnât help myself. it fits!
lush love, in lace and silk (6.1k, explicit): an exchanging of gifts. modern au established relationship Valentineâs Day fic, starring Jaskier in lingerie and both of them very much in love.
april fools (1.6k, g): modern roommates au, idiots to lovers fluff. Jaskier picked perhaps the worst possible day to confess.
soft, rough, sweet (6.2k, explicit): Jaskier's skin gets very dry in the winter at Kaer Morhen. Geralt offers to help lotion his back.
make better use of those hands (500 words, t): Geralt kisses his way up Jaskierâs arm. inspired by & gifted to srapsodia for this beautiful art!
a new us has begun (2.5k, explicit): Jaskier knows heâs a placeholder. And he is totally, definitely, absolutely okay with it. Friends with benefits to lovers <3
want something for yourself (3.8k, explicit): gentle top Jaskier, a week after the banquet. Jaskier can tell Geralt's out of sorts. He decides to distract him, by bringing up another very important moment from the evening. âMy balls are perfectly fine, Iâll have you know.â
an oasis, with him (2.7k, explicit): Trudging through a forest during the haze of a heatwave, all of Geraltâs stifled wants feel all the more pressing, intoxicatingâŠespecially when Jaskier rips off all his clothes and jumps into a river.
what about the bard masterpost: standalone fills for the excellent what-about-the-bard event, ft. the prompts destruction of property, sex standing/against a wall, lullabies and bedtime stories, and break the bed.
something new, with you (4k, explicit): love confessions and first time bottoming, inexperienced with men jaskier + gentle top geralt.
new ways to be in love (3.6k, explicit): the sequel to something new, with you but can be read as a standalone â more inexperienced with men jask & gentle top geralt, this time with more praise
need you (4k, explicit): written for themountainarchives - âwe need your helpâ isnât even close to the extent of what Geralt wants to say to him.
and every morning after (1.8k, t): five times geralt took jaskier into his arms, and one time he didn't.
fuck itâ (500 words, t): because that hug deserves a parallel.
"I'm your manager," Roy says, Jamie shivering under his hands, skin soft under his lips, "It's not right."
"Yes, coach," Jamie says, eyes vacant and dreamy, and that's the problem right there, isn't it?
-
"We ought to stop," Roy says, his fingers flexing in Jamie's hair, nails scratching at his scalp. "This could fuck both our careers."
"Mmmhmph," Jamie agrees, his mouth full.
-
Roy opens the door to find Jamie on his doorstep. He raises an eyebrow. âI thought youâd be out with the team.â
Jamie shrugs one shoulder. âWe went out for one drink. It was nice and all.â
âSo what are you doing here?â
Jamie grins. âCome on. A hat trick against Newcastle? That deserves a celebration.â
âThatâsâŠâ Roy fishes but fails to come up with a counterargument. Jamie truly had played one hell of a match.
Jamie moves closer, and Roy finds himself stepping back to let him in. The moment Jamie steps inside, his hands are fisted in Royâs shirt and Roy is pushing him up against the back of the door.
It really had been one hell of a hat trick.
-
"This is the last time," Roy says, fingers scissoring, and Jamieâs eyes are rolling back in his head and heâs too out of it to summon a response.
âI mean it.â Roy withdraws his fingers and Jamie whines as he lines himself up. âHey. Iâm serious.â
Jamieâs eyes snap into focus, and he hooks one leg around Royâs waist to pull him closer.
"Totally," Jamie nods, biting his lip. He looks up at Roy from under his lashes. "So we might as well make it count, yeah?"
-
Roy stretches out in Jamie's bed, morning sunlight pouring through the window, and steels himself to leave. Enough is enough, they've been playing with fire for too long, it's time to end this.
His mind is made up. Heâs for real this time.Â
He wraps a towel around himself and heads toward the sound of running water. Jamie is in the shower, one with enormous glass doors which leave nothing to the imagination, and Roy leans in the doorway.Â
"I have to go."
Jamie glances over his shoulder, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Already?"
"Yeah. We agreed. This was the last time." Roy doesn't look at the torrent of water running down Jamie's thighs, the flexing muscles of his back, the soft curve of his arse.Â
"We did." Jamie says, soaping up his shoulders. "But⊠morning after doesn't count, does it? It's basically still last night."
"That's notâŠ" Roy can't tear his eyes away from a rivulet of water running between Jamie's shoulder blades, a cluster of soap bubbles sliding languorously down the plane of his back. Jamie shoots him a heated look: enough of a smile to be a tease, enough of a smirk to be a dare.
"Fuck it," Roy snaps, dropping his towel and stalking over to throw open the shower door. "One last time."
"You pick which of us you want to end up with." Roy crosses his arms and Jamie nods, approving.
"Well." Keely stares at the two idiots sat at her dining table, half drunk, covered in bar filth, and bleeding, waiting for her judgement like it's her job to officiate whatever bullshit they've got themselves into now. "Lucky fucking me."
Roy shoots an uncertain glance at Jamie. This was clearly not how either of them had expected this conversation to go.
"You know the only thing sexier than a man so emotionally incompetent he starts a bar fight then turns up at your door in the middle of the night? Two men so emotionally incompetent they start a bar fight and then both turn up at your door in the middle of the night."
Roy shifts in his seat. "That's not-"
"Shut it, Roy," Keely orders, and he does, mouth snapping closed with an audible click. "I'm talking here."
She turns to Jamie. "Jamie. Sweetheart. I love that we're closer now. I love that you're working on yourself. I loved meeting your mum." Roy is getting antsy so she fixes him with a glare before turning back to Jamie. "But it's been years since we were together, and even then all we did well was fuck. Come on. We've both moved past that and you know it."
Jamie deflates, but doesn't argue. He nods and looks at the table. "I liked having you meet my mum too," he mumbles, and she pats his hand.
"And Roy." She turns to him and he blinks like a deer in the headlights. "We were good together. We really fucking were. But then you dumped me, you fucker, and I got over it. You were there for a much-needed pick-me-up shag when I was low, and I do appreciate that. But in what fucking world did this whole," she gestures expansively, "winning-me-back macho posturing bullshit seem like a good idea?"
Roy inhales. "When you put it like that, I do sound like a bit of a twat, don't I?"
She smiles. "There we go. Some self awareness at last." Roy and Jamie sneak a look at each other and share a self-effacing smile. "What got you so riled up anyway? You're both idiots, we all know that, but you don't usually fight."
Jamie chews his lip. "It was my fault. I was trying to wind Roy up." Roy glances up at that. "I was trying to get his attention, I guess. I know it's dumb but I just want him to-" Jamie pauses and picks at the edge of table, "- to see me. To pay attention to me. To be proud of me."
Roy's brow creases. "You don't need to do shit to get my attention, Jamie. You're already the center of my fucking world, or hadn't you noticed?" Jamie's fingers stop picking and his eyes fly up. "I see you, and I'm proud of you exactly as you are."
Jamie's mouth falls open, just a fraction, and Roy's eyes dance over his face.
Keely leans back in her chair, fighting to control a smile. "Have you two ever considered -" Both of them shift forward to listen, "- that it's not really me you're after?"
Jamie frowns, and Roy snorts, and Keely just cranks an eyebrow. A useful move, that one. Jamie looks from her, to Roy, to her, to Roy. Roy looks at the ceiling, then the floor, then the ceiling, then finally at Jamie.
A blush is spreading over Jamie's cheeks, and Roy fidgets in his seat. "Oh," says Jamie, just as Roy says, "Fuck."
"Took your fucking time with that one, boys!" Keely lets out a joyous peal of laughter. "Now get the fuck out of my house."
roy/jamie, 4.8k words, explicit, had to get this one up before the finale <3, also on ao3
for @valdomarx <3 go read her roy/jamie, itâs exquisite
Itâd be one thing, wouldnât it, if Royâd wanted to keep it casual. Just get each other off sometimes, not altogether unheard of in the showers.
The alternative is to actually see where this goes, and thatâs too terrifying to look straight at. To be in aârelationshipâwith the person who knows Jamie brutally well, the person who shaped him before he even knew him, and also a man and his goddamn coach, and Keeleyâs other ex and, and, and.
Itâs fucking Roy.
If Jamie knew what was good for him, heâd get out of this before it properly starts. Thereâs too much at stake. Call it the heat of the moment, laugh it off. Because the thought of opening up all the way just to lose him doesnât remotely sound like something Jamieâs willing to bear.
But then Roy looks at him.
And Jamieâs not sure he knows whatâs good for him after all.
***
The third time it happens, Roy crowding Jamie to the inside of his closed door after sweaty morning training, Roy slows down. He drags his palms up Jamieâs waist, disarmingly gentle. He cups Jamieâs jaw and kisses him so tenderly Jamie thinks he might break.
Heat prickling helplessly through him, Jamie yanks him into something rougher, hungrier. Seizes Royâs hips and shoves him up against his own wall. Roy indulges him, but thereâs still this edge ofâcare to it, and Jamie bristles, deepening the kiss with a sort of desperate fury.
Roy pulls away and looks at him.
âHmm.â
Jamie blinks, his throat suddenly very dry. Something that could be anger flashes across Royâs expression.
But then he only curls his lip, arches a brow, and flicks his gaze unmistakably.
Jamie sighs with relief and gets obediently to his knees, grateful to take Roy into his mouth and settle into the heady comfort of his hard-earned praise.
***
The days between Royâs touch stretch like toffee, and the next time Roy pulls him in Jamieâs gone half-mad with the waiting, the aching, the trying very studiously not to be desperate.
He goes into the kiss with snarling heat, spitting into his palm and stroking Roy at a bullyâs pace.
But Royâs jaw drops at the treatment and he rides it like an expert, thrusting into Jamieâs fist with an elegant, easy power that does nothing to quiet the savage fire of Jamieâs heart. He smirks into the kiss, fingernails dragging across Jamieâs soft skin.
Jamie knows pleasure, it comes with the life and, obviously, this face of his. Yet no drug or fuck or match compares to the highs of being Roy Kentâs focus, and taking him the fuck apart.
Jamie hardly has time to gloat when Roy comes with a hoarse cry after a few moments of this treatment, because then heâs being manhandled against the wall and into Royâs stupid, perfect, competitive mouth.
This time, when Jamieâs getting close, Roy pulls away to loosely jerk him off. He laps lower, wet tongue curling against Jamieâs base, over his sensitive balls, the crease of his thighâ
Jamie hears the string of swears rather than really chooses the words Roy coaxes out of him. Perhaps this is why he canât help himself from saying the thought thatâs been screaming in his mind for weeks nowâand hissing, for years before that.
âDâyou wanna fuck me?â he manages at last, the words coming out in a breathy rush.
And if heâd had any proper doubts about Royâs intentions, they cower in the face of the sound Roy makes. The twitch of his fist on Jamieâs dick.
Roy looks at him.
âHave youâ?â
Jamie shakes his head. He doesnât offer anything else. He doesnât have to.
Roy surges up the bed and kisses Jamie so filthy he comes in a shuddering, twitching hurry, his dick wet from Royâs spit and rubbing between the hard planes of their stomachs.
Roy grins into his mouth.
âYeah,â he murmurs. He shakes his head. âYou know I do.â
Jamieâs hot all over, terribly vulnerable and somehow, distantly, heâs aware that heâs happier than heâs been in his entire life.
He knows Roy means it. And he knows what it means. âCause the thing isâhe knows Roy well enough to tell when heâs bullshitting.
âGood.â
***
When the night comes, Jamieâs as ready as heâs gonna be. But of course, again, Roy takes him by surprise.
The candles, for one thing. Thereâs like ten and they smell nice in a gentle, mature sort of way.The fresh soft sheets, the bottle of lube conspicuous and unapologetic on the bedside, the fucking extra toothbrush in the bathroom, which Jamie stares at with a sort of hysteria.
Roy closes the door, shutting out the rest of the world. He turns his hot gaze on Jamie and Jamie squares his jaw instinctively.
Roy shucks his own shirt first. Jamie follows suit.
Itâs wild. Theyâve gotten each other off already, been naked in front of each other countless times. This is different. Everything is different: Roy Kent wants him. And yet somehow itâs as if theyâve been leading here all along. Itâs just that Jamie never, ever let himself think it might actually happen.
âI canât believe I finally get to touch you,â Roy growls, shaking his head, and Jamie closes the rest of the space between them before Roy can.
When Roy presses him into the bed, Jamie tries to sneer and shoveâ
Only to have Roy pin him firmly to the mattress. He straddles Jamie, crosses his fucking arms, and frowns down at him like heâs laying out the ground rules for a drill.
Incredulously, Jamie feels himself relax.
âListen, this isnât training and Iâm not going to pretend it is,â Roy says in a low voice. âYou have to tell me if something hurts, or if you donât like it. It doesnât mean Iâll stop, unless you want me to stop. And you have to tell me if you like something. I need to trust that. And you need to trust me. You got all that?â
Jamieâs so hard it hurts. He knows Roy feels it. He nods, but Roy tsks, takes Jamieâs jaw in his hand.
âAloud, Jamie.â
Jamie swallows.
âYeah, coaâRoy. I will. You can. I got it.â
The corner of Royâs mouth curves up at Jamie catching himself. Jamie gets itâcoach works in bed, but only âcos itâs sexy, and only when itâs sexy.
âGood boy,â Roy murmurs, slipping the pad of his thumb between Jamieâs lips.
The pleasure centers of Jamieâs brain flood almost painfullyâhe squirms and gives a broken moan, grinding needily upwards. Itâs far from the first time Royâs said that, far from the first time Jamieâs heard it in bed, but never so heavy with power and promise.
Royâs smirk widens. Wild how the man can look both menacing and devastatingly sexy at once. Or maybe not, really, maybe that intersection of rough and kind is exactly why Jamieâ
Roy sets his mouth to Jamieâs throat and his big hand curls around Jamieâs dick and Jamieâs mind short circuits rather splendidly.
âYou like that?â Roy murmurs, dragging his tongue up Jamieâs jaw. âLike being good for me, Tartt?â
âFuck off,â Jamie pants. His hands stutter over the muscles in Royâs shoulders. Heâs memorised so much about these muscles, this body, this man. I canât believe I get to touch you, heâd said, taking the words right out of Jamieâs mouth. Roy smirks, Jamie can feel it against his skin.
âI know you do,â he says, too quietly to mean only one thing. His mouth finds Jamieâs again, kissing away his shame before it blossoms. âJamie,â he rasps, âI like you too. Dâyou know that?â
âIââ
Jamie realises, rather forcefully, that he hadnât. A full body shiver goes through him, and Roy pulls back to look at him.
âOh,â Jamie finishes weakly. âOh.â
His arms go round Roy again, and then Royâs snogging him stupid, that tongue eager in his mouth, both his hands coming to sink into Jamieâs hair and tug.
âYouâre a brat,â Roy murmurs, his fingers playing over Jamieâs chest. âYouâre insufferable, and the prickiest prick Iâve ever met.â
âYour pillow talkâs shit.â
Roy yanks him to the side and spanks him, sharp and without warning. Jamie makes an extremely obvious noise.
âYou like it,â Roy says, and Jamie nods, thighs trembling.
âFucker,â he breathes, âyou know I do.â
âSee?â Has Royâs voice always been quite this raspy? The gravelly affection, pressed this close, so focused on him, makes Jamie fucking dizzy. âBrat.â He huffs a laugh. Drags his tongue down the lines of Jamieâs chest, his stubble sparking against Jamieâs tight nipples. âI was saying. You are all of that. The absolute worst. Andâone of the best men Iâve ever met.â
âThis is still shit pillow talk,â Jamie says, but his legs are already hooked around Royâs waist, rocking their bodies together. Roy digs his teeth into Jamieâs nipple, tweaking the other between his fingertips, and Jamie arches into him, gasping.
âI need you to get it,â Roy says simply. He shakes his head. âI know you, Tartt. All of you. And I want you.â He looks up. âAnd not just in my bed.â
âFuck,â is all Jamie can manage, but by the daybreak of a grin spreading across Royâs face, he knows Roy, of course, understands. âFuck,â he says again, sinking into Royâs kiss, âfuck, fuck, fuck.â
âYeah,â Roy says. âFuck.â
And then Royâs mouth is on him again, his hands leaving Jamieâs skin alight in their wake. Jamie writhes against him, desperate and terrified at once for it to start.
âYou donât even know the half of it, do you?â Roy rumbles. Jamie parts his thighs to the sandpaper of his stubble. âWild, âcause I know how full you are of yourself.â
Jamie grunts.
âItâs different, innit?â He licks his lips. âWith you.â
Roy shakes his head.
âFuck, Jamie. Of course I fucking want you. You know how I feel about youââ
âThatâs different than wanting to fuck me.â
âTrue,â Roy acknowledges. âI want that too, though.â
Jamie swallows.
âProve it.â
The grin that spreads across Roy Kentâs face is like nothing Jamieâs ever seen before. He knows, at once, that heâll never forget it.
âMy fucking pleasure.â
The kiss goes tender again. Royâs calloused hands cup as close to Jamieâs bare body as possible. He moves like heâs mapping him, memorising him. Jamieâs never felt so relaxed and so alight at once. The tension in his muscles heats and melts him to treacle, his arousal settling into something less punishingly urgent and moreâŠencompassing, somehow.
âFuck, Roy.â His voice is lower than heâs used to.
When it starts to be too much, Jamie grabs at him, pulling him into something rougher again. This time, Roy allows itâbut on his own terms. Kisses him deeper, clutches at him harder, but still slow, still disarmingly reverent. He spreads Jamie out, his gaze raking over what heâs seen a thousand times, but Jamie can feel the force of his desire now that he doesnât have to hide it. He shivers, and Roy squeezes him. Perhaps itâs meant to be reassuring, but the pressure just makes Jamie whimper.
Itâs the most vulnerable thing Jamieâs ever experienced, and, without question, the most thrilling.
Royâs touch follows his gaze. Thereâs a familiar note of irritation there, and Jamie rises to it, nipping at Royâs lip. Roy quirks a brow and shoves him back down with both hands. This close, Jamie can see something else shimmering behind that irritationâsomething equally familiar.
âLook at you all spread out for me,â Roy murmurs. âHandsome prick.â
Itâs all for you.
âYou gonna fuck me or just gonna wank about it for another decade, you bastard?â
Royâs brows shoot up. He covers Jamieâs body with his, sinking his hands into Jamieâs hair. It feels so good Jamie nearly blacks out.
âYou want me that bad, do you?â
Jamie swallows.
âSay it.â Royâs grinning now. He reaches for the lube, and Jamieâs gut twists.
âYeah, coach,â he says, propping himself up on his elbows. âI want you that bad.â
Royâs expression twists into something almost savage.
âI fucking know,â he says, and it goes right to Jamieâs dick.
And then heâs curling Jamie into him, hitching his thigh up and over his waist, reaching below to prod with slick fingers justâthereâ
Jamie buries his face in Royâs chest. He breathes him in, dizzy on the smell of him. It still feels hardly real, long-buried fantasy crashing into reality in a gauzy, desperate tangle. He loves the way Roy smells, he realises suddenly. He always has, and now that heâs pressed into him, he knows that the only way he ever wants to adjust to that strange, stretching pressure is with Roy steady against him, Jamie breathing him in.
âHow does it feel?â Roy asks, the crushed velvet rumble of his voice.
âWeird,â Jamie says, âbutânice? I dunno, Iâgive me a minute.â
âOf course,â Roy says. He moves gentle but deliberate. Two thick, calloused fingers, slippery with lube and working Jamie open.
Itâs not, strictly speaking, Jamieâs first time with this. Heâs played with his hole a time or two and Keeleyâd had her go of it, but nothing more than fingers and Royâs are stronger and thicker than Keeleyâs by a good measure.
And then Jamie opens enough for Roy to push deeper, and Jamie cries out, twitching.
The noise Roy makes is nearly enough to send Jamie over the edge.
âYou feel,â Roy says, his voice more ragged than Jamieâs ever heard it, âso good.â
Jamie knows him well enough to believe it. He whines, grinding his hips down on Royâs hand, jaw falling open as he rubs that spot against Royâs fingertips.
âFuck.â How many times has Roy hissed that at him? Itâs never sounded like this before. Jamie can feel Royâs dripping cock throb against his own thigh.
âYou feel good,â Jamie finds he can say. Roy growls, and Jamie shiversâitâs never sounded so threatening before, and somehow so much like a purr.
âThatâs it, Jamie,â Roy urges. âThatâs it, good boy.â He curls his fingers and Jamie shouts. Royâs grin is a feral thing, and Jamie doesnât know he resisted so long. He crushes a kiss to it and Roy adds a third finger and Jamie gasps through the sting of it. Roy bites his jaw before shoving him away. âGet on top of me.â
Jamie scrambles to straddle him, hissing when Roy doesnât let him sit on his cock.
âNot yet.â
Jamie knows that tone like he knows himselfâit brooks no argument. Jamie opens his mouth to protest anyway, like usual, but Roy bares his teeth and touches him again, toying at his slick, never-been-dicked-down entrance.
And if Jamieâs learned one thing this past year, itâs that the only thing better than giving Roy shit is doing what he says, because then Roy makes it good for both of them.
He swallows, and nods, and lets Roy work three fingers into him until Jamie can feel himself loosening enough to blush with it.
âIââ
âWhat is it?â Roy sucks on his lip, rubbing him just so. Jamieâs shaking.
âI canât wait anymore,â Jamie whines at last. He barely catches sight of Royâs grin again before Royâs lining him upâand pulling him downâ
Jamie cries out, steadying himself with both palms on Royâs chest.
âFuck, youâre big.â Jamieâs voice has gone thin. He needed three fingers, he needed every moment of that prep, and heâs blushing even more that Roy knew it.
âEasy,â Roy says, and oh. His voice is different too. He sounds raw and wrecked, and something feverish sings through Jamieâs chest and settles his nerves, knowing that heâs fucking Roy up just as much as Royâs doing to him. âNice and easy. Iâm not going anywhere, yeah?â He squeezes Jamieâs hips. âGo on, Tartt. Take what you need.â
âAnd you know what I need, do you?â Jamieâs panting. Heâs fraying at the seams, his own erection bobbing obvious in his lap, Roy Kentâs huge fucking dick easing inside him.
âIâve got a good idea Iâve got what you need, yeah,â Roy grins.
Jamie stares at him, skin prickling, and sinks down with a drawn out moan until heâs seated in Royâs lap. Itâs Jamieâs turn to grin at him wildly, panting, while Royâs face twists like heâs been wounded. Jamie rocks in his lap, bending over him, his sweaty hair curtaining his face.
âThatâs it, Jamie,â Roy says. âThatâs it, there you go. Good lad. Mmm.â
Roy lets him get used to it, and itâs easy to, when Jamieâs learning what Roy looks like when heâs inside him, when heâs learning the curve of his dick, the way his thighs feel and his nipples harden and how he likes it when Jamie clenchesâŠ
Slowly, the sting of the stretch eases, until thereâs only the tug of it, and the sweet, sharp press, and the fullness. God, the fullness. Jamie lets his movements get bigger, Royâs thick cock punching the breath out of him with each thrust. Itâs easier than Jamie expected, riding him. Those muscles arenât practiced but theyâre not weak, either.
Then Jamie thinks of something, and chuckles, scrubbing his hand over his mouth.
âCoach,â he says. âIs this why youâve got me doing all those squats?â
In the top ten things Jamie likes doing to Roy best, making him laugh is definitely up there. Doing it while Royâs cock is inside himâthat goes quicker to Jamieâs head than any booze ever has.
âNo,â Roy says, licking at his mouth. âBut it will be now. Fuck.â
Jamie leans back and sticks his tongue out between a toothy grin, rolling his hips with flair. He digs his fingers into Royâs thighs. Roy shakes his head.
âCheeky bastard.â
Jamieâs mouth twists into a smirk.
âWhatâre you gonna do about it?â
Roy tightens his grip on Jamieâs waist and punches his own hips up. Jamie cries out and loses his balance.
âShit,â Roy says, âwas that all riââ
Jamie slams his hips back down, breathing hard through his nose. He pulls Roy into a savage kiss.
âDo that again.â
Roy grins at him savagely, and then everything goes a bit blurry at the edges.
Of course Roy can fuck. Jamieâs known. Jamieâs envisioned. Jamieâs heard.
But itâs another thing entirely to have those thighs that Jamie coveted, that chest, these muscles, put to use of fucking Jamie like his goddamn life depends on it.
âPrick,â Roy spits at him, groaning. âDâyou know how handsome you look taking my cock?â
Jamie cries out again. His eyes are wet, and heâs on fire everywhere in the best way.
âI love how you feel inside me,â Jamie says, because he canât help it.
âGood,â Roy snarls. âCause youâd better get used to it.â
And then he wraps his palm around Jamieâs dick and Jamie rides it for a few helpless, hysterical momentsâthrusting between Royâs grip and his cockâ
âWait, wait,â he gasps, pushing away. âIâm gonnaâIââ Jamie gnaws his lip, and Roy nods, his hands warm on Jamieâs thighs again. âI wanna last.â
I donât want this to be over yet.
Thereâs that smile again. Crinkling Royâs eyes at the corners, making Jamie thrum all over.
âHey,â Roy says. âCan I try something?â
***
This is new, and Jamie registers distantly that heâdâve remembered to be ashamed of it if Roy hadnât looked so damn excited, if he didnât sound like he does, moaning like a whore as he eats Jamie out from behind.
âGod, you taste so fucking good,â Roy groans irritably into him. He spreads Jamie wider, flicking his tongue over Jamieâs hole as if it were his slit, and the fresh realm of pleasure makes the sheets crumple tight in Jamieâs clenching fists. Jamie wants to snark back on instinct, but he finds he doesnât want to fight the wild, wordless pleasure of taking Royâs mouth.
Royâs tongue presses in, and Jamie keens. His hips grind back before he knows what heâs doing. Roy growls, and forces Jamie harder against him, licking into him as deep as he can. He jerks Jamie off as he licks into his stretched hole, just too loose to let Jamie over the edge.
Itâs fucking filthy. Jamieâs fucked open and tender, slick with lube and precome. Roy eats him like a starving man, and Jamie canât be embarrassed when Royâs loving it so much, so he can only take it instead. It feels so good he doesnât quite know what to do with it, this raw vulnerability that Roy brings out in himâthe only lover in the world who could wield it quite like this.
Roy drags his tongue up Jamieâs crease, sucks at his balls. He fucks Jamie on two fingers again until the not enough of it screams up Jamieâs spine and Roy reads it like the back of his own hand, licking hard circles into Jamieâs hole and playing with his dick, toying with his balls, thumbing hard at his perineum. Jamieâs brain keeps trying to memorise the twist of his tongue, the way he alternates his pressure, the way itâs different than eating a cunt, because he canât wait to do this back to Roy if he lets himâbut then Roy groans brokenly into him and pushes harder, wetter, and Jamie loses track of everything but pleasure until the pillow beneath his head is wet with sweat and tears.
âOn your back, pretty boy,â Roy says quietly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
Jamie flops over. Even as he squirms piteously at the loss of touch, Jamie feels something deep in his chest unlock.
For ages now, going home meant hearing pretty boy and other shit like it in the worst way. For ages now, Jamieâs heard it for the slur itâd been intended. For ages now, Jamieâd go sick with the kernel of almost-truth inside it, the guilt, the shame.
But now here he is, doing exactly what he thought was always impossibleâgettin fucking railed up the arse by Roy fucking Kentâand Roy means pretty boy in the exact opposite way Jamieâs heard it all his life. Pretty boy, because he is, and he does want Roy to fuck him stupid and pull his hair, and thereâs nothing goddamn wrong with that.
AndâŠthe moment their eyes meet, Jamie knows that Roy understands all of that. In a way that no one else quite can.
âItâs all for you, you bastard,â Jamie says, reaching for him.
âHm?â
âIâah!â
Roy pulls him to the edge of the bed, positions him so he can stand by it, hook Jamieâs legs over his shoulders, and enters him again, deep.
Jamie shakes his head, grinning as Roy starts to move.
All that fucking training, building all this strengthâfor the first time Jamie feels that he knows what it was for. Yeah, heâs a god on the pitch with it, he knows that, yeah heâs a god of a lover, he knows that too.
But with Roy, itâs both at once.
No one else knows Jamie like this, knows what heâs done and what heâs felt and what this means.
More than thatâeverything Jamie loves about his body right now is where it is because of Roy fucking Kent. He got Jamie started. He made Jamie push himself his whole life. And heâs been training him ever since.
And nothing Jamieâs ever done with this body has felt as good as making Roy look like this.
Something is chiming in the back of Jamieâs head, sharp and steady at once. Less like an alarm clock or a buzzer, more like the creak of a branch in the breeze, or perhaps a distant windmill.
âYou like this?â Royâs gruff voice wraps around whatâs left of Jamieâs ragged, blissed-out consciousness.
âYeah,â Jamie manages. âYeah.â
âGood.â Roy pets Jamieâs hair out of his eyes, fucks him hard and touches him sweetly at the same time, and Jamieâs mouth falls open, punched-out little noises wrenching from him with every perfect, thorough thrust.
Jamie never lets himself lose control like this. Not in anything he does. But he was right and he knew itâdoing what Roy wants always works out best for both of them.
The thing is, thereâs a sort of power in succumbing, Jamieâs realising somewhat madly. When itâs someone you trust. When itâs Roy.
And finally, finally, Roy is everywhere. Royâs pinning him down, Royâs holding him tight, Royâs heavy on top of him and heavy inside him and Royâs bringing him this spiraling, maddening pleasure and he knows heâs bringing it to Roy too, just by giving in, and thereâs something so, so freeing in the surrender.
âGet it now? I want you to come on my dick, pretty boy,â Roy says, slow and deliberate in Jamieâs ear, âbecause I fucking like you.â
Jamie sobs through gritted teeth, dragging Roy in deeper by his heels.
Jamie flings his arms over his face as the ecstasy sharpens inside him, Roy hollowing him out and filling him with something molten and excruciatingly sweet. He hears himself gasp, hears Roy spit, feels him wrap his fist around Jamieâs desperate cock, hears himself wail in a tone he barely recognisesâthis feels better than any sex heâs ever had, than winning the biggest championship, than anything, anything, anything, this feels fucking newâ
And with a rush, just before Roy snarls and makes him go blank with white-hot pleasure, Jamie thinks, Fuckâ
Iâm gonna remember this one.
He cries out, wordless and raw. Roy fucks him through it, nailing that sweet spot and making those sounds, touching him in a thousand places. Itâs Roy that Jamie sees, when he wrenches his eyes open even as heâs still shuddering, Roy pink-cheeked and sweaty with effort, bicep flexing as he jerks Jamie off.
âGood boy,â Roy murmurs, and Jamie goes tight, twitching and overwhelmed in the best way.
When Jamie slows at last, Roy traces his fingers through the mess heâs made on their stomachs, licks it off with a satisfied hum. He shifts, and Jamie realises what heâs about to do.
With the little strength Jamie can muster, he holds Roy fast. Royâs brow arches, questioning, and Jamie nods. For the first time since they kissed, Jamie looks at him and says,
âPlease.â
The look on Royâs face is almost enough to get Jamie hard again.
âFuck,â he says. He bites his lip and does what Jamie wants: fucks him with shallow, needful thrusts as he chases his pleasure in Jamieâs body. Jamie floats, settling into the mingling, perfect comfort of post-orgasm haze and post Roy-workout-soreness.
He almost says it, when Royâs jaw drops, when his hips pick up speed. That creaking, chiming thing, threatening to claw out of Jamieâs mouth. When he watches his lifelong hero up close, his hairs and his scars and the damp of his brow, a wreck because Jamie made him that way.
âWhatâs that smirk for?â Roy pants.
Jamie sighs, squirming pleasantly.
âYou already know.â
Roy rolls his eyes at him, and Jamie laughs, and then Royâs kissing him again, grinning into his mouthâand then gasping into it, and then Jamieâs gasping too, as Roy fills him up, hot and impossibly deep, for the very first time.
Roy collapses on Jamieâs chest. The weight feels almost as good as the fucking. Jamie never wants to move again, a thing heâs never experienced before.
âSay it anyway,â Roy says.
âWhat?â
Roy lifts his head. They both shiver as he pulls out. Jamie flinches at the cooling stickiness, but Roy grabs his jaw again.
âSay it anyway. Even if I know.â His eyes are stern, but his lip is trembling. Oh. Oh. âIf you mean it,â Roy says. âIf you want it. Say it.â
Jamie swallows.
âYou first.â
Roy rolls his eyes again, and Jamie breaks into a smile so big it hurts.
âYou little brat.â
âYou like it.â
âI love it,â Roy says, and thatâs enough really, Jamie believes him. But then he kisses Jamie with the sort of urgency that speaks for itselfâand then he says it anyway.
Jamieâs mouth goes dry.
âWild, innit,â he says. âIâdâIâd been so fucking scared I was gonna lose everything. For so long. And then you went andââ he gestures. âFlipped it. Flipped it all.â
âIâm not going anywhere,â Roy murmurs, âunless you want me to.â
âDonât you dare,â Jamie pulls him into another kiss and says, at last, â...I love you too.â
roy/jamie, 4.8k words, explicit, had to get this one up before the finale <3, also on ao3
for @valdomarx <3 go read her roy/jamie, itâs exquisite
Itâd be one thing, wouldnât it, if Royâd wanted to keep it casual. Just get each other off sometimes, not altogether unheard of in the showers.
The alternative is to actually see where this goes, and thatâs too terrifying to look straight at. To be in aârelationshipâwith the person who knows Jamie brutally well, the person who shaped him before he even knew him, and also a man and his goddamn coach, and Keeleyâs other ex and, and, and.
Itâs fucking Roy.
If Jamie knew what was good for him, heâd get out of this before it properly starts. Thereâs too much at stake. Call it the heat of the moment, laugh it off. Because the thought of opening up all the way just to lose him doesnât remotely sound like something Jamieâs willing to bear.
But then Roy looks at him.
And Jamieâs not sure he knows whatâs good for him after all.
***
The third time it happens, Roy crowding Jamie to the inside of his closed door after sweaty morning training, Roy slows down. He drags his palms up Jamieâs waist, disarmingly gentle. He cups Jamieâs jaw and kisses him so tenderly Jamie thinks he might break.
Heat prickling helplessly through him, Jamie yanks him into something rougher, hungrier. Seizes Royâs hips and shoves him up against his own wall. Roy indulges him, but thereâs still this edge ofâcare to it, and Jamie bristles, deepening the kiss with a sort of desperate fury.
Roy pulls away and looks at him.
âHmm.â
Jamie blinks, his throat suddenly very dry. Something that could be anger flashes across Royâs expression.
But then he only curls his lip, arches a brow, and flicks his gaze unmistakably.
Jamie sighs with relief and gets obediently to his knees, grateful to take Roy into his mouth and settle into the heady comfort of his hard-earned praise.
***
The days between Royâs touch stretch like toffee, and the next time Roy pulls him in Jamieâs gone half-mad with the waiting, the aching, the trying very studiously not to be desperate.
He goes into the kiss with snarling heat, spitting into his palm and stroking Roy at a bullyâs pace.
But Royâs jaw drops at the treatment and he rides it like an expert, thrusting into Jamieâs fist with an elegant, easy power that does nothing to quiet the savage fire of Jamieâs heart. He smirks into the kiss, fingernails dragging across Jamieâs soft skin.
Jamie knows pleasure, it comes with the life and, obviously, this face of his. Yet no drug or fuck or match compares to the highs of being Roy Kentâs focus, and taking him the fuck apart.
Jamie hardly has time to gloat when Roy comes with a hoarse cry after a few moments of this treatment, because then heâs being manhandled against the wall and into Royâs stupid, perfect, competitive mouth.
This time, when Jamieâs getting close, Roy pulls away to loosely jerk him off. He laps lower, wet tongue curling against Jamieâs base, over his sensitive balls, the crease of his thighâ
Jamie hears the string of swears rather than really chooses the words Roy coaxes out of him. Perhaps this is why he canât help himself from saying the thought thatâs been screaming in his mind for weeks nowâand hissing, for years before that.
âDâyou wanna fuck me?â he manages at last, the words coming out in a breathy rush.
And if heâd had any proper doubts about Royâs intentions, they cower in the face of the sound Roy makes. The twitch of his fist on Jamieâs dick.
Roy looks at him.
âHave youâ?â
Jamie shakes his head. He doesnât offer anything else. He doesnât have to.
Roy surges up the bed and kisses Jamie so filthy he comes in a shuddering, twitching hurry, his dick wet from Royâs spit and rubbing between the hard planes of their stomachs.
Roy grins into his mouth.
âYeah,â he murmurs. He shakes his head. âYou know I do.â
Jamieâs hot all over, terribly vulnerable and somehow, distantly, heâs aware that heâs happier than heâs been in his entire life.
He knows Roy means it. And he knows what it means. âCause the thing isâhe knows Roy well enough to tell when heâs bullshitting.
âGood.â
***
When the night comes, Jamieâs as ready as heâs gonna be. But of course, again, Roy takes him by surprise.
The candles, for one thing. Thereâs like ten and they smell nice in a gentle, mature sort of way.The fresh soft sheets, the bottle of lube conspicuous and unapologetic on the bedside, the fucking extra toothbrush in the bathroom, which Jamie stares at with a sort of hysteria.
Roy closes the door, shutting out the rest of the world. He turns his hot gaze on Jamie and Jamie squares his jaw instinctively.
Roy shucks his own shirt first. Jamie follows suit.
Itâs wild. Theyâve gotten each other off already, been naked in front of each other countless times. This is different. Everything is different: Roy Kent wants him. And yet somehow itâs as if theyâve been leading here all along. Itâs just that Jamie never, ever let himself think it might actually happen.
âI canât believe I finally get to touch you,â Roy growls, shaking his head, and Jamie closes the rest of the space between them before Roy can.
When Roy presses him into the bed, Jamie tries to sneer and shoveâ
Only to have Roy pin him firmly to the mattress. He straddles Jamie, crosses his fucking arms, and frowns down at him like heâs laying out the ground rules for a drill.
Incredulously, Jamie feels himself relax.
âListen, this isnât training and Iâm not going to pretend it is,â Roy says in a low voice. âYou have to tell me if something hurts, or if you donât like it. It doesnât mean Iâll stop, unless you want me to stop. And you have to tell me if you like something. I need to trust that. And you need to trust me. You got all that?â
Jamieâs so hard it hurts. He knows Roy feels it. He nods, but Roy tsks, takes Jamieâs jaw in his hand.
âAloud, Jamie.â
Jamie swallows.
âYeah, coaâRoy. I will. You can. I got it.â
The corner of Royâs mouth curves up at Jamie catching himself. Jamie gets itâcoach works in bed, but only âcos itâs sexy, and only when itâs sexy.
âGood boy,â Roy murmurs, slipping the pad of his thumb between Jamieâs lips.
The pleasure centers of Jamieâs brain flood almost painfullyâhe squirms and gives a broken moan, grinding needily upwards. Itâs far from the first time Royâs said that, far from the first time Jamieâs heard it in bed, but never so heavy with power and promise.
Royâs smirk widens. Wild how the man can look both menacing and devastatingly sexy at once. Or maybe not, really, maybe that intersection of rough and kind is exactly why Jamieâ
Roy sets his mouth to Jamieâs throat and his big hand curls around Jamieâs dick and Jamieâs mind short circuits rather splendidly.
âYou like that?â Roy murmurs, dragging his tongue up Jamieâs jaw. âLike being good for me, Tartt?â
âFuck off,â Jamie pants. His hands stutter over the muscles in Royâs shoulders. Heâs memorised so much about these muscles, this body, this man. I canât believe I get to touch you, heâd said, taking the words right out of Jamieâs mouth. Roy smirks, Jamie can feel it against his skin.
âI know you do,â he says, too quietly to mean only one thing. His mouth finds Jamieâs again, kissing away his shame before it blossoms. âJamie,â he rasps, âI like you too. Dâyou know that?â
âIââ
Jamie realises, rather forcefully, that he hadnât. A full body shiver goes through him, and Roy pulls back to look at him.
âOh,â Jamie finishes weakly. âOh.â
His arms go round Roy again, and then Royâs snogging him stupid, that tongue eager in his mouth, both his hands coming to sink into Jamieâs hair and tug.
âYouâre a brat,â Roy murmurs, his fingers playing over Jamieâs chest. âYouâre insufferable, and the prickiest prick Iâve ever met.â
âYour pillow talkâs shit.â
Roy yanks him to the side and spanks him, sharp and without warning. Jamie makes an extremely obvious noise.
âYou like it,â Roy says, and Jamie nods, thighs trembling.
âFucker,â he breathes, âyou know I do.â
âSee?â Has Royâs voice always been quite this raspy? The gravelly affection, pressed this close, so focused on him, makes Jamie fucking dizzy. âBrat.â He huffs a laugh. Drags his tongue down the lines of Jamieâs chest, his stubble sparking against Jamieâs tight nipples. âI was saying. You are all of that. The absolute worst. Andâone of the best men Iâve ever met.â
âThis is still shit pillow talk,â Jamie says, but his legs are already hooked around Royâs waist, rocking their bodies together. Roy digs his teeth into Jamieâs nipple, tweaking the other between his fingertips, and Jamie arches into him, gasping.
âI need you to get it,â Roy says simply. He shakes his head. âI know you, Tartt. All of you. And I want you.â He looks up. âAnd not just in my bed.â
âFuck,â is all Jamie can manage, but by the daybreak of a grin spreading across Royâs face, he knows Roy, of course, understands. âFuck,â he says again, sinking into Royâs kiss, âfuck, fuck, fuck.â
âYeah,â Roy says. âFuck.â
And then Royâs mouth is on him again, his hands leaving Jamieâs skin alight in their wake. Jamie writhes against him, desperate and terrified at once for it to start.
âYou donât even know the half of it, do you?â Roy rumbles. Jamie parts his thighs to the sandpaper of his stubble. âWild, âcause I know how full you are of yourself.â
Jamie grunts.
âItâs different, innit?â He licks his lips. âWith you.â
Roy shakes his head.
âFuck, Jamie. Of course I fucking want you. You know how I feel about youââ
âThatâs different than wanting to fuck me.â
âTrue,â Roy acknowledges. âI want that too, though.â
Jamie swallows.
âProve it.â
The grin that spreads across Roy Kentâs face is like nothing Jamieâs ever seen before. He knows, at once, that heâll never forget it.
âMy fucking pleasure.â
The kiss goes tender again. Royâs calloused hands cup as close to Jamieâs bare body as possible. He moves like heâs mapping him, memorising him. Jamieâs never felt so relaxed and so alight at once. The tension in his muscles heats and melts him to treacle, his arousal settling into something less punishingly urgent and moreâŠencompassing, somehow.
âFuck, Roy.â His voice is lower than heâs used to.
When it starts to be too much, Jamie grabs at him, pulling him into something rougher again. This time, Roy allows itâbut on his own terms. Kisses him deeper, clutches at him harder, but still slow, still disarmingly reverent. He spreads Jamie out, his gaze raking over what heâs seen a thousand times, but Jamie can feel the force of his desire now that he doesnât have to hide it. He shivers, and Roy squeezes him. Perhaps itâs meant to be reassuring, but the pressure just makes Jamie whimper.
Itâs the most vulnerable thing Jamieâs ever experienced, and, without question, the most thrilling.
Royâs touch follows his gaze. Thereâs a familiar note of irritation there, and Jamie rises to it, nipping at Royâs lip. Roy quirks a brow and shoves him back down with both hands. This close, Jamie can see something else shimmering behind that irritationâsomething equally familiar.
âLook at you all spread out for me,â Roy murmurs. âHandsome prick.â
Itâs all for you.
âYou gonna fuck me or just gonna wank about it for another decade, you bastard?â
Royâs brows shoot up. He covers Jamieâs body with his, sinking his hands into Jamieâs hair. It feels so good Jamie nearly blacks out.
âYou want me that bad, do you?â
Jamie swallows.
âSay it.â Royâs grinning now. He reaches for the lube, and Jamieâs gut twists.
âYeah, coach,â he says, propping himself up on his elbows. âI want you that bad.â
Royâs expression twists into something almost savage.
âI fucking know,â he says, and it goes right to Jamieâs dick.
And then heâs curling Jamie into him, hitching his thigh up and over his waist, reaching below to prod with slick fingers justâthereâ
Jamie buries his face in Royâs chest. He breathes him in, dizzy on the smell of him. It still feels hardly real, long-buried fantasy crashing into reality in a gauzy, desperate tangle. He loves the way Roy smells, he realises suddenly. He always has, and now that heâs pressed into him, he knows that the only way he ever wants to adjust to that strange, stretching pressure is with Roy steady against him, Jamie breathing him in.
âHow does it feel?â Roy asks, the crushed velvet rumble of his voice.
âWeird,â Jamie says, âbutânice? I dunno, Iâgive me a minute.â
âOf course,â Roy says. He moves gentle but deliberate. Two thick, calloused fingers, slippery with lube and working Jamie open.
Itâs not, strictly speaking, Jamieâs first time with this. Heâs played with his hole a time or two and Keeleyâd had her go of it, but nothing more than fingers and Royâs are stronger and thicker than Keeleyâs by a good measure.
And then Jamie opens enough for Roy to push deeper, and Jamie cries out, twitching.
The noise Roy makes is nearly enough to send Jamie over the edge.
âYou feel,â Roy says, his voice more ragged than Jamieâs ever heard it, âso good.â
Jamie knows him well enough to believe it. He whines, grinding his hips down on Royâs hand, jaw falling open as he rubs that spot against Royâs fingertips.
âFuck.â How many times has Roy hissed that at him? Itâs never sounded like this before. Jamie can feel Royâs dripping cock throb against his own thigh.
âYou feel good,â Jamie finds he can say. Roy growls, and Jamie shiversâitâs never sounded so threatening before, and somehow so much like a purr.
âThatâs it, Jamie,â Roy urges. âThatâs it, good boy.â He curls his fingers and Jamie shouts. Royâs grin is a feral thing, and Jamie doesnât know he resisted so long. He crushes a kiss to it and Roy adds a third finger and Jamie gasps through the sting of it. Roy bites his jaw before shoving him away. âGet on top of me.â
Jamie scrambles to straddle him, hissing when Roy doesnât let him sit on his cock.
âNot yet.â
Jamie knows that tone like he knows himselfâit brooks no argument. Jamie opens his mouth to protest anyway, like usual, but Roy bares his teeth and touches him again, toying at his slick, never-been-dicked-down entrance.
And if Jamieâs learned one thing this past year, itâs that the only thing better than giving Roy shit is doing what he says, because then Roy makes it good for both of them.
He swallows, and nods, and lets Roy work three fingers into him until Jamie can feel himself loosening enough to blush with it.
âIââ
âWhat is it?â Roy sucks on his lip, rubbing him just so. Jamieâs shaking.
âI canât wait anymore,â Jamie whines at last. He barely catches sight of Royâs grin again before Royâs lining him upâand pulling him downâ
Jamie cries out, steadying himself with both palms on Royâs chest.
âFuck, youâre big.â Jamieâs voice has gone thin. He needed three fingers, he needed every moment of that prep, and heâs blushing even more that Roy knew it.
âEasy,â Roy says, and oh. His voice is different too. He sounds raw and wrecked, and something feverish sings through Jamieâs chest and settles his nerves, knowing that heâs fucking Roy up just as much as Royâs doing to him. âNice and easy. Iâm not going anywhere, yeah?â He squeezes Jamieâs hips. âGo on, Tartt. Take what you need.â
âAnd you know what I need, do you?â Jamieâs panting. Heâs fraying at the seams, his own erection bobbing obvious in his lap, Roy Kentâs huge fucking dick easing inside him.
âIâve got a good idea Iâve got what you need, yeah,â Roy grins.
Jamie stares at him, skin prickling, and sinks down with a drawn out moan until heâs seated in Royâs lap. Itâs Jamieâs turn to grin at him wildly, panting, while Royâs face twists like heâs been wounded. Jamie rocks in his lap, bending over him, his sweaty hair curtaining his face.
âThatâs it, Jamie,â Roy says. âThatâs it, there you go. Good lad. Mmm.â
Roy lets him get used to it, and itâs easy to, when Jamieâs learning what Roy looks like when heâs inside him, when heâs learning the curve of his dick, the way his thighs feel and his nipples harden and how he likes it when Jamie clenchesâŠ
Slowly, the sting of the stretch eases, until thereâs only the tug of it, and the sweet, sharp press, and the fullness. God, the fullness. Jamie lets his movements get bigger, Royâs thick cock punching the breath out of him with each thrust. Itâs easier than Jamie expected, riding him. Those muscles arenât practiced but theyâre not weak, either.
Then Jamie thinks of something, and chuckles, scrubbing his hand over his mouth.
âCoach,â he says. âIs this why youâve got me doing all those squats?â
In the top ten things Jamie likes doing to Roy best, making him laugh is definitely up there. Doing it while Royâs cock is inside himâthat goes quicker to Jamieâs head than any booze ever has.
âNo,â Roy says, licking at his mouth. âBut it will be now. Fuck.â
Jamie leans back and sticks his tongue out between a toothy grin, rolling his hips with flair. He digs his fingers into Royâs thighs. Roy shakes his head.
âCheeky bastard.â
Jamieâs mouth twists into a smirk.
âWhatâre you gonna do about it?â
Roy tightens his grip on Jamieâs waist and punches his own hips up. Jamie cries out and loses his balance.
âShit,â Roy says, âwas that all riââ
Jamie slams his hips back down, breathing hard through his nose. He pulls Roy into a savage kiss.
âDo that again.â
Roy grins at him savagely, and then everything goes a bit blurry at the edges.
Of course Roy can fuck. Jamieâs known. Jamieâs envisioned. Jamieâs heard.
But itâs another thing entirely to have those thighs that Jamie coveted, that chest, these muscles, put to use of fucking Jamie like his goddamn life depends on it.
âPrick,â Roy spits at him, groaning. âDâyou know how handsome you look taking my cock?â
Jamie cries out again. His eyes are wet, and heâs on fire everywhere in the best way.
âI love how you feel inside me,â Jamie says, because he canât help it.
âGood,â Roy snarls. âCause youâd better get used to it.â
And then he wraps his palm around Jamieâs dick and Jamie rides it for a few helpless, hysterical momentsâthrusting between Royâs grip and his cockâ
âWait, wait,â he gasps, pushing away. âIâm gonnaâIââ Jamie gnaws his lip, and Roy nods, his hands warm on Jamieâs thighs again. âI wanna last.â
I donât want this to be over yet.
Thereâs that smile again. Crinkling Royâs eyes at the corners, making Jamie thrum all over.
âHey,â Roy says. âCan I try something?â
***
This is new, and Jamie registers distantly that heâdâve remembered to be ashamed of it if Roy hadnât looked so damn excited, if he didnât sound like he does, moaning like a whore as he eats Jamie out from behind.
âGod, you taste so fucking good,â Roy groans irritably into him. He spreads Jamie wider, flicking his tongue over Jamieâs hole as if it were his slit, and the fresh realm of pleasure makes the sheets crumple tight in Jamieâs clenching fists. Jamie wants to snark back on instinct, but he finds he doesnât want to fight the wild, wordless pleasure of taking Royâs mouth.
Royâs tongue presses in, and Jamie keens. His hips grind back before he knows what heâs doing. Roy growls, and forces Jamie harder against him, licking into him as deep as he can. He jerks Jamie off as he licks into his stretched hole, just too loose to let Jamie over the edge.
Itâs fucking filthy. Jamieâs fucked open and tender, slick with lube and precome. Roy eats him like a starving man, and Jamie canât be embarrassed when Royâs loving it so much, so he can only take it instead. It feels so good he doesnât quite know what to do with it, this raw vulnerability that Roy brings out in himâthe only lover in the world who could wield it quite like this.
Roy drags his tongue up Jamieâs crease, sucks at his balls. He fucks Jamie on two fingers again until the not enough of it screams up Jamieâs spine and Roy reads it like the back of his own hand, licking hard circles into Jamieâs hole and playing with his dick, toying with his balls, thumbing hard at his perineum. Jamieâs brain keeps trying to memorise the twist of his tongue, the way he alternates his pressure, the way itâs different than eating a cunt, because he canât wait to do this back to Roy if he lets himâbut then Roy groans brokenly into him and pushes harder, wetter, and Jamie loses track of everything but pleasure until the pillow beneath his head is wet with sweat and tears.
âOn your back, pretty boy,â Roy says quietly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
Jamie flops over. Even as he squirms piteously at the loss of touch, Jamie feels something deep in his chest unlock.
For ages now, going home meant hearing pretty boy and other shit like it in the worst way. For ages now, Jamieâs heard it for the slur itâd been intended. For ages now, Jamieâd go sick with the kernel of almost-truth inside it, the guilt, the shame.
But now here he is, doing exactly what he thought was always impossibleâgettin fucking railed up the arse by Roy fucking Kentâand Roy means pretty boy in the exact opposite way Jamieâs heard it all his life. Pretty boy, because he is, and he does want Roy to fuck him stupid and pull his hair, and thereâs nothing goddamn wrong with that.
AndâŠthe moment their eyes meet, Jamie knows that Roy understands all of that. In a way that no one else quite can.
âItâs all for you, you bastard,â Jamie says, reaching for him.
âHm?â
âIâah!â
Roy pulls him to the edge of the bed, positions him so he can stand by it, hook Jamieâs legs over his shoulders, and enters him again, deep.
Jamie shakes his head, grinning as Roy starts to move.
All that fucking training, building all this strengthâfor the first time Jamie feels that he knows what it was for. Yeah, heâs a god on the pitch with it, he knows that, yeah heâs a god of a lover, he knows that too.
But with Roy, itâs both at once.
No one else knows Jamie like this, knows what heâs done and what heâs felt and what this means.
More than thatâeverything Jamie loves about his body right now is where it is because of Roy fucking Kent. He got Jamie started. He made Jamie push himself his whole life. And heâs been training him ever since.
And nothing Jamieâs ever done with this body has felt as good as making Roy look like this.
Something is chiming in the back of Jamieâs head, sharp and steady at once. Less like an alarm clock or a buzzer, more like the creak of a branch in the breeze, or perhaps a distant windmill.
âYou like this?â Royâs gruff voice wraps around whatâs left of Jamieâs ragged, blissed-out consciousness.
âYeah,â Jamie manages. âYeah.â
âGood.â Roy pets Jamieâs hair out of his eyes, fucks him hard and touches him sweetly at the same time, and Jamieâs mouth falls open, punched-out little noises wrenching from him with every perfect, thorough thrust.
Jamie never lets himself lose control like this. Not in anything he does. But he was right and he knew itâdoing what Roy wants always works out best for both of them.
The thing is, thereâs a sort of power in succumbing, Jamieâs realising somewhat madly. When itâs someone you trust. When itâs Roy.
And finally, finally, Roy is everywhere. Royâs pinning him down, Royâs holding him tight, Royâs heavy on top of him and heavy inside him and Royâs bringing him this spiraling, maddening pleasure and he knows heâs bringing it to Roy too, just by giving in, and thereâs something so, so freeing in the surrender.
âGet it now? I want you to come on my dick, pretty boy,â Roy says, slow and deliberate in Jamieâs ear, âbecause I fucking like you.â
Jamie sobs through gritted teeth, dragging Roy in deeper by his heels.
Jamie flings his arms over his face as the ecstasy sharpens inside him, Roy hollowing him out and filling him with something molten and excruciatingly sweet. He hears himself gasp, hears Roy spit, feels him wrap his fist around Jamieâs desperate cock, hears himself wail in a tone he barely recognisesâthis feels better than any sex heâs ever had, than winning the biggest championship, than anything, anything, anything, this feels fucking newâ
And with a rush, just before Roy snarls and makes him go blank with white-hot pleasure, Jamie thinks, Fuckâ
Iâm gonna remember this one.
He cries out, wordless and raw. Roy fucks him through it, nailing that sweet spot and making those sounds, touching him in a thousand places. Itâs Roy that Jamie sees, when he wrenches his eyes open even as heâs still shuddering, Roy pink-cheeked and sweaty with effort, bicep flexing as he jerks Jamie off.
âGood boy,â Roy murmurs, and Jamie goes tight, twitching and overwhelmed in the best way.
When Jamie slows at last, Roy traces his fingers through the mess heâs made on their stomachs, licks it off with a satisfied hum. He shifts, and Jamie realises what heâs about to do.
With the little strength Jamie can muster, he holds Roy fast. Royâs brow arches, questioning, and Jamie nods. For the first time since they kissed, Jamie looks at him and says,
âPlease.â
The look on Royâs face is almost enough to get Jamie hard again.
âFuck,â he says. He bites his lip and does what Jamie wants: fucks him with shallow, needful thrusts as he chases his pleasure in Jamieâs body. Jamie floats, settling into the mingling, perfect comfort of post-orgasm haze and post Roy-workout-soreness.
He almost says it, when Royâs jaw drops, when his hips pick up speed. That creaking, chiming thing, threatening to claw out of Jamieâs mouth. When he watches his lifelong hero up close, his hairs and his scars and the damp of his brow, a wreck because Jamie made him that way.
âWhatâs that smirk for?â Roy pants.
Jamie sighs, squirming pleasantly.
âYou already know.â
Roy rolls his eyes at him, and Jamie laughs, and then Royâs kissing him again, grinning into his mouthâand then gasping into it, and then Jamieâs gasping too, as Roy fills him up, hot and impossibly deep, for the very first time.
Roy collapses on Jamieâs chest. The weight feels almost as good as the fucking. Jamie never wants to move again, a thing heâs never experienced before.
âSay it anyway,â Roy says.
âWhat?â
Roy lifts his head. They both shiver as he pulls out. Jamie flinches at the cooling stickiness, but Roy grabs his jaw again.
âSay it anyway. Even if I know.â His eyes are stern, but his lip is trembling. Oh. Oh. âIf you mean it,â Roy says. âIf you want it. Say it.â
Jamie swallows.
âYou first.â
Roy rolls his eyes again, and Jamie breaks into a smile so big it hurts.
âYou little brat.â
âYou like it.â
âI love it,â Roy says, and thatâs enough really, Jamie believes him. But then he kisses Jamie with the sort of urgency that speaks for itselfâand then he says it anyway.
Jamieâs mouth goes dry.
âWild, innit,â he says. âIâdâIâd been so fucking scared I was gonna lose everything. For so long. And then you went andââ he gestures. âFlipped it. Flipped it all.â
âIâm not going anywhere,â Roy murmurs, âunless you want me to.â
âDonât you dare,â Jamie pulls him into another kiss and says, at last, â...I love you too.â
The thing is, Jamie Tartt smells fucking awful. He walks around in a haze of cheap body spray, musky and spicy and unsubtle as hell, an obnoxious cloud that lingers in a room even after he's left.
Roy has spent half his life in locker rooms, so he's well familiar with all the terrible scents that footballers love to douse themselves in, but even by those generous standards Jamie still manages to push it.
But Roy is, technically, an adult and a professional, so he ignores the pungent odour of Lynx that accompanies Jamie everywhere he goes and focuses on his training. Jamie's actually pretty fun to train, not that Roy would ever admit it, and he finds himself almost looking forward to pounding on his door at 4 a.m. every morning.
(Jamie smells better in the mornings too, freshly showered and still a little soft with sleep, less chemical tang of body spray and more of the warm, round musk of his natural scent. Not that Roy has noticed or anything.)
And then Jamie gets called up for England, and he's away at training, and it's been weeks since they've seen each other. And Roy is proud as hell of him, and it's everything Jamie has ever wanted, but there's something restless and itchy under his skin and he couldn't say why.
Until he walks past a bunch of teenagers in the street and is assailed by the smell of Lynx, and suddenly his heart does something complicated in his chest.
He looks around, has a moment of self consciousness, then growls "Fuck it," and walks into the nearest Boots. He walks out with a plastic bag full of cans he avoids looking directly at.
Next time Keely pops his apartment by she wrinkles her cute little nose as she comes through the door. "Why does it smell like Jamie in here?" she asks, and Roy hurries to distract her with a cup of tea.
Once she's left Roy throws himself down on the sofa and breathes deeply, that smell of bright amber and musty spice which had been so disagreeable for so long now transmogrified into something soothing. Something familiar. Something he, urgh, misses when it isn't around.
He sighs and pulls out his phone. Oi, prick. You better not be slacking off your cardio. I'm gonna kick your arse once you're back.
He sends the text and allows himself a small smile. Jamie will know what he means.
Roy elbows his way past Jamie into the locker room, shoving him aside with one shoulder.
"Pass the fucking ball to your teammates once in a while, yeah? Fucking selfish prick."
Jamie sneers and pretends not to notice the sour looks he's getting from the rest of the team.
-
"Oi! Dipshit!" Roy stands on the sidelines and makes a rude gesture in Jamie's direction. "We're supposed to be training agility, not fucking attention-seeking stupidity. Get your head out your arse!"
Jamie scowls but throws himself back into the drill, focusing on his footwork and moving around each cone perfectly. When he sneaks a glance over at the coaches, Roy is regarding him with cool indifference.
Ah well. At least it's an improvement on outright hostility.
-
Jamie punches Sam joyfully in the arm. "Nice one, mate. You killed it today."
Sam beams, and Jamie looks up to see Roy looking at him with furrowed brow. He sticks his tongue out at him.
"Knob end," Roy says, but he's almost smiling.
-
"I'm just saying," Jamie takes a step closer, getting right up in Roy's face. It's probably a terrible fucking idea but he's never been known for his careful forward planning, has he? "I know you want it."
Roy's jaw twitches and his face is like a storm cloud. Jamie has a horrible feeling he might be about to get decked.
"Fucking dickhead," Roy says, before shoving him up against the wall and kissing him breathless.
-
It's a hell of a goal. Jamie is 30 yards out and his teammates are keeping the defence busy when the ball drops at his feet. He looks down the length of the field and he doesn't even have to think: he dodges a quick faint and punts it hard, a wildly arcing curve down toward goal and past the keeper's hands.
The crowd erupts.
Dani and Isaac land on him first, then the rest of the team pile on top of him with cheers and whoops. When he emerges from under the pile he looks over to the coach's box where Roy is rolling his eyes.
"Jammy bastard," Roy mouths at him, but even from the pitch Jamie can see the way he's smiling.
-
The alarm goes off at 3:30 a.m.
"Urghhhhh." Jamie pulls the duvet over his head. "'S too fucking early. We can skip training today, right?"
Roy flops on top of him and kisses a trail along the top of his shoulder. "Absolutely fucking not."
"You're really gonna make me train? After the fucking blowjob to end all blowjobs I gave you last night?"
"Yup." Roy pops the p in a way that means he's having fun. Jamie can tell even with his face buried in the pillow.
Jamie sighs and throws off the duvet, rolling over until Roy is in his arms. He's got pillow creases on his cheek and he's smiling at Jamie like he's the fucking sun.
Jamie kisses him, just because he can, and steels himself for an early morning run. "Fucking wanker," he says, and Roy just laughs.
Roy blurts it out in a rush, the words sharp and heavy on his tongue. His sister blinks at him and slowly raises an eyebrow.
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Yeah, see, I knew you'd say that, but just don't, okay?"
"I really wasn't going to."
"Because he already said he thinks you're fit." He shudders at the memory. "And he's got this. I don't know. This thing which women find inexplicably attractive. I don't want to pull that misogynistic brother crap on you but please don't."
She's looking at him like he's losing the plot. "I'm really not interested in Jamie."
"Yeah, right." Roy huffs. "Why wouldn't you be interested? He was so sweet and fun with Phoebe. It's a pleasure to have him around. He's actually really considerate these days. And he's really fucking handsome, obviously."
She looks like she's hiding a smile. "I see."
"Everyone wants to sleep with him."
"I''m not sure that's strictly true."
"Of course they do! He's Jamie fucking Tartt! It's not enough that he's a fucking god on the pitch, now he's gone and done all this growth and shit and he's a really fucking decent person as well! What the fuck!"
She's definitely laughing at him now, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Have you been worrying about this since the party?"
"No! Yeah. Maybe. A bit." Roy sulks.
"Because it makes you upset when you think about him being with someone else?"
Roy squirms. This talking about feelings shit is unbearable, but yeah, he'll admit that the thought bothers him.
She pats his hand. "Roy, you know I love you, right?" He nods. "So listen to me when I say, with love: you're a fucking idiot."
"So what do you say about me?" Jamie is grinning like a lunatic. "Because you talk about me a lot."
Roy grunts, and prays for a swift death.
"Do you tell Phoebe about my mad footwork skills? And my headers? Did you tell her how I've gotten so good at all that team morale and tactical stuff?"
"She's eight. She's not that interesting in the finer details of training."
"Oh." Jamie's face falls for a moment, before brightening again. "So you must tell her other stuff about me. Is it about my good looks and iconic sense of style?"
Jamie is currently wearing an obnoxious baseball cap, a flowery polyester tracksuit, and a shiny red bumbag. Roy experiences a powerful urge to smack his own head into the nearest wall.
"Definitely not that."
"Then what? Come on, you know I'm not going to let this go so you might as well tell me. What does the great Roy Kent say about me?"
"Fuck, I don't know! I just told Phoebe that you're actually kind of funny sometimes and, fuck, I think I may have used the words 'impressively dedicated', and that you're not actually as much of a knob as you seem."
Oh no. Too many words. Jamie is staring at him intently, a wrinkle between his eyebrows that means he's deep in what passes for thought if you're Jamie Tartt.
"You like me," Jamie says, like he's tripped in the mud and discovered a block of solid gold. "You do!"
"Fuck off."
"You like me," Jamie repeats. He pauses. "For, like, my personality?" His nose crinkles in what appears to be genuine bafflement.
Roy considers making a run for it, but he's slower than he used to be. Jamie would catch up easily. He sighs. "It came as a shock to me too."
"You like me." Jamie says it quietly, with something like wonder in his voice.
"Not that much."
"You like me."
"Hardly at all."
"You like me."
"Increasingly less so."
"I like you too, you know."
Jamie's stupid face is scrunched up with merriment and his eyes are sparkling, and fuck, it is with absolute horror that Roy is forced to acknowledge that seeing Jamie so happy makes him feel, urgh, genuinely good.
That's been happening a lot recently - him looking at Jamie and feeling all tingly when he smiles. Like it matters to him how Jamie is doing. Like somehow Jamie's happiness has become the most important thing in the world. Like he does in fact like him, rather a lot actually, almost as if...
âYou werenât kidding about the poster, huh?â
Roy glances up at the poster of himself on Jamieâs bedroom wall. Itâs a decade old, the paper faded and creased around the edges, but it has clearly been looked after, the frayed parts carefully blu-tacked in place.
Jamieâs face oscillates between bashful and bravado, before settling on teasing. âNeeded some motivation to get better than you, didnât I, old man?â
Roy snorts. Itâs a good photo, a well-caught moment of action as he winds back his right foot just before the ball arrives, his brow set in an expression of determined focus. With a pang of sentiment he remembers what it was like to feel that certain, about himself and his abilities. When there was nothing but him and the grass and the ball, and a sensation of absolute rightness.
âYeah, right.â He sweeps away the nostalgia with a roll of his eyes. âI was the light of your young life, I can tell. I bet you showed that poster to everyone you knew. Bet you fucking jerked off looking at it."
He smirks with the tease, expecting a snappy comeback. But there's a beat where Jamie stumbles. It's so unlike his typical insouciance that it sticks out a mile, even when he recovers with a flippant, "Yeah, you wish."
Hang on a fucking second.Â
"You fucking did!"
Two splotches of red burst across Jamie's cheeks. "Fuck off."
Unbidden, Roy pictures a teenage Jamie, face flushed, cock in his hand, gasping up at that damn poster. He shoves the image out of his mind as fast as humanly possible.Â
"I always said you were a wanker, Tartt."
Jamie twists his lips like he's settling on a tactic: the safe play or the high risk, high reward outside chance. And fuck, since when has Roy been able to read him so well?
Jamie decides, narrowing his eyes in a way that suggests heâs committing to the play, for better or worse. "Had to take my thrills where I could get them as a kid." He tilts his chin up, pretending defiance. "And you were pretty fit back in the day."
Roy catches himself thinking that it's kind of sweet, the way Jamie squares up as he says that. God, Roy is so fucked.Â
"And now?" Itâs out of his mouth before he can think better of it, the ease of their banter lulling him into dangerous territory.
Jamie grins, wild and wicked, and it crinkles the corners of his eyes. âYouâre not too bad.â He takes a step closer, and damn it, Roy isnât going to stumble backwards. âFor an old guy.â His eyes rake down and back up Royâs body, and the back of Royâs neck heats under the scrutiny.
Jamie tilts his head and says, rather too quietly to be joking, âI wouldnât say no.â
There was a line, somewhere, that wasn't supposed to be crossed. But they breezed past that a while ago, and Roy finds himself unmoored. The past may have been a time of firm certainty, he realises, but the present is one of open possibility, and damn if that isn't an enticing concept.
He takes a step forward. Too close, way over the line, into the danger zone. He feels himself smile. "So how come you never asked?"
