CHAPTER 2
At the outset I must make the disclaimer that this story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of these rugby union players or any personal knowledge about their private lives. I hope it gives some sustenance to readers during the World Cup. Look forward to your comments.
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`Fuck!' They both cried, just after Marcus Smith had ejaculated eight streams of cum up against the mirror of the hotel room that he and Danny Care were - it was now dramatically obvious - sharing. Danny stood in the doorway of the bathroom, topless, staring in bewilderment at a naked Marcus (except for his Versace boxer briefs around his knees and training socks), his young muscular body having just violently erupted the long streaks of cum that were now dribbling down the mirror behind him. As they stood in silence, their eyes locked, he could hear a video playing on his phone. Some porn, Danny guessed, but he couldn't take his eyes away from Marcus's.
Marcus had turned a deep red. Just his fucking luck, he thought to himself, especially after their earlier encounter. He couldn't believe it. Danny began to smile, the same utterly intoxicating grin that crept over his face any time after he'd played a prank on a teammate.
Maaaate', he said, drawling, what the fuck?'
`This is my bathroom!', they both said simultaneously, both also realising that, in fact, they had clearly been given a room to share, but the receptionist hadn't mentioned it. An awkward pause and then Danny started laughing.
`Oh my God, oh my God, you're never gonna live this down.' Quickly he pulled out his phone from his pocket as Marcus moved towards him, his arm outstretched, the other trying to cover (or at least, barely suppress) his still hard cock.
Too late. Danny had captured the Adonis, walking towards him, a look of horror and surprise across his face, his still dripping cock in his hand, the cum-smeared mirror behind him. Danny was laughing hysterically as Marcus tried to grab the phone from him.
`Danny, give me the fucking phone!'
`No you don't, you fucker; this is mine for eternity!', Danny laughed as he lifted the phone high as Marcus tried to reach up for it. Their torsos touched momentarily but, also, Danny suddenly realised, Marcus's cock had swung against his left thigh in the jostle and, as a result, left a thick trail of his ejaculate across his suit trousers. Danny stepped back, his jaw having dropped, looking down in what seemed like mock horror at the fresh jizz but with that same cheeky glint in his eye.
Marcus also couldn't believe it. How much fucking worse could this day get? One moment he's imagining spit-roasting his girlfriend with Danny, the next he's managed to cover the man's suit trousers, tightly drawn across those massive thighs, with his own fucking cum.
`Fuck, sorry!, said Marcus quickly. Danny was simply shaking his head in disbelief, his arms raised (phone still in hand), mouth open but silent for several seconds, before he looked into his eyes sternly and said,
`Lick it off.'
Silence for a few more seconds. Marcus's jaw had now dropped, trying to work out from Danny's eyes whether he was joking or not.
Their eyes locked for what seemed an age, until Danny said slowly, `It's the only way this photo isn't going on the squad WhatsApp, mate. Lick. It. Off.'
Marcus knew that team hazing could sometimes get wild, not least with copious drink, but this was different. Marcus couldn't tell if this was the aggressive older-brother bullying you sometimes got from the more experienced players, eager to demonstrate their dominance in the pack, or something else entirely. If the latter, maybe Marcus's fantasies were closer to his reality than he'd imagined, but licking his own cum off Danny's thigh? What the fuck was going on?
`Get down, Smithy, or this photo's going viral', he repeated.
The use of his surname made Marcus think this was probably more in the tradition of hazing but there was something else in the air, unmistakably erotic, the smell of cum permeating the room and the moans of Beth from his phone not exactly helping to defuse the atmosphere.
Marcus shook his head bashfully, on the one hand revolted by the suggestion and on the other accepting that he had been given no choice, and frankly, now curious to see where this was going to end up.
Fuckkk', he uttered, I don't believe this'.
`Come on, buddy, don't waste time. We're gonna be late and you don't want this photo to be the talking point of our Irish friends, do you?'
Danny was now clearly enjoying this. But maybe he wasn't prepared for what Marcus did next. Nor in a way was Marcus, who felt suddenly possessed by the situation's intensity while also obviously desperate that that photo didn't follow him around for years in every fucking group chat.
Marcus had moved back several steps, even as Danny had moved back several himself when he saw Marcus's trail across his left upper leg, a streak of gleaming ivory that led right down into his inner thigh.
Now Marcus moved forward slowly, but locking his gaze with Danny's in mock defiance, with his left hand stroking back his thick, lengthy hair in a way that expressed a sexual confidence that Danny hadn't been expecting. Danny's grin remained but Marcus could also see something else. Was it disbelief, smugness or now fear of what he'd commanded but hadn't expected Marcus to undertake?
Now face to face, the silence electric (the video of Beth having come to an end), the warmth of their bodies tangible in the small space between them, both of them breathing heavily. Marcus stopped for a couple of seconds, locking his eyes with his mentor as he slowly knelt down. Marcus was now face to face with Danny's groin, yet his eyes still on Danny's.
Had Danny asked this of teammates before? Marcus couldn't tell, but he could tell that there was now something else going on here which was far beyond locker-room banter. He'd never actually tasted his own cum (or, of course, any other man's) and this was probably not the way he'd ever expected to do so.
Slowly, but deliberately - not wanting to disrupt such power as he had at this point - he moved towards the streak with his head, his tongue preparing to glide across his thigh, Marcus noting the increasing tightness of Danny's trousers - only a matter of a taut bit of cloth between his mouth and Danny's massive thighs and straining underwear.
Danny slightly choked, reminding himself to breathe, as he looked down at the sight before him. He hadn't expected Marcus to be so compliant but here now was the Bright Young Thing of English rugby on his knees before his groin, which itself was responding to the presence of Marcus like a magnet. The silence in the room was deafening as, behaving as though he did this every day, Marcus moved in on the streak of jizz. It was still pretty thick, but Marcus slowly slid his tongue across the massive leg, deftly using his tongue to scoop the cum into his mouth and, bit by bit, swallowing his own seed.
Still warm, it seemed (or was that the thigh?), Marcus had expected something more bitter, but, while salty, the taste was far from overpowering and was, frankly, turning him on. Anyway, he wasn't going to give Danny the satisfaction of turning away now. He moved slowly but deliberately from the outer to the streak on the inner thigh, noting the considerable tenting that was tautening the fabric and ironically making it easier to capture the last of his jizz. As he came to the end, his nose pressed in the groin of the man who'd been his hero since early schooldays as one of England's greatest scrum halves, Marcus inhaled deeply.
Almost instinctively, Danny reached out his right hand into Marcus's thick black hair and pressed his head deeper into his full groin, almost in a daze and capturing a sight of the submissive Marcus's perfect arse in the mirror and himself, finely statuesque and lost in ecstasy.
That's my boy', he said, holding him there for slightly too long to belie the sense that there was any chance this was still just banter. Goooood boy, my good little bro', he said, unaware where these words were conjured out of him by the erotic power of the situation they found themselves in. Where was this going now?
Marcus, too, was spellbound by the moment, drawn in by Danny's rich smell and the taste of his own jizz on his tongue. He realised, too, that he was rock hard again; there was no hiding it, even as he realised by the straining of Danny's trousers that the sentiment was entirely mutual. He let his nose graze the tip of Danny's cock which pressed in longing against the fabric.
After several seconds, Marcus slowly got up, standing face to face with Danny (they were about the same height), with a sly grin on his face, his brown eyes looking into Danny's with no longer fear, but utter lust.
Danny himself looked deeply into Marcus's eyes, again the silence between them telling its own story. Danny didn't need to look down to realise they were both rock hard, Marcus's quickly regained full length itself testimony to the rubicon they had just crossed. He noticed too that some of the cum was now smeared to the right of Marcus's mouth.
`You missed some', Danny said. With his index finger, he slowly took it up to Marcus's mouth, drawing the sticky, white cream and smearing it across Marcus's lips.
Fuck, this was electric, like nothing he'd ever done with any woman let alone his wife. Marcus hungrily took his finger in his mouth, his eyes closed and lost in this moment. Danny took back the finger, swiping his lower lip of what cream remained and - in a move that felt now utterly unhinged - slowly took it back to his own mouth to taste Marcus on his tongue, all the while their eyes locked.
Marcus couldn't believe what was happening but their sharing of his own jizz was like a chemical bond that created its own irresistible dynamic. Marcus now moved forward and, without hesitating, now hungrily took Danny's lips to his own, the tense silence and tenderness of the past minute (which had felt like an hour) giving way to something more ferocious as their tongues now fought like dogs for mastery, their hands roughly exploring each other's hair, necks and backs.
If Danny had been worried about his trousers before, all pretense was now abandoned as their cocks grinded against each other, this time Marcus's being unsheathed and Danny's desperate to escape the smart Boss suit and Calvins he'd put on earlier. As their mutual precum smeared either side of the trousers, both of Danny's hands slid down to Marcus's pert backside, grasping the smooth, hard globes even as Marcus took in his own what was probably the finest arse in English rugby. They both groaned, all the while their cocks grinding more furiously.
Danny pushed Marcus up against the sink, their broad chests now beginning to glisten with sweat borne of adrenaline and the almost feverish heat between them.
`Fuck me, this is weird', Marcus uttered.
`Shut up. Let Daddy get to work', Danny responded, reclaiming the initiative and his fatherly role and now taking Marcus's length in his hand. While he'd mucked around with mutual masturbation with a mate as a teenager after one dope-fuelled summer evening, this was altogether different. Marcus was like a brother to him and yet now he wanted his cock in his mouth, to take control of him, to possess him. He wanted more of that jizz in his mouth, on his face. He wanted to share it with him. The ideas were coming thick and fast, as he hoped that cum would find its way into him.
Remembering the mirror behind him, Danny reached up and took another finger-full of cum and brought it to Marcus's mouth. `Eat it', Danny said. Marcus quickly obliged, again lost in a kind of Bacchic ecstasy provoked by the cum. Opening his eyes, he saw that beautiful smile again as Danny reached up again but now fed himself, his eyes wide open looking at its producer.
`You taste fucking amazing, little bro'.
`There's more what that came from', said Marcus, holding his wet cock in his hand and stroking its length with pride.
Danny smacked Marcus's hand out the way and knelt down and - for the first time in his life - took the tip of a man's schlong in his mouth, the precum sliding across his lips, as he savoured the sweetness of it with his tongue. Marcus tasted fucking incredible.
Just as his mouth received his full cock, Marcus throwing back his head in a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief, there was a furious knock on the hotel room door. Fuck. They froze.
`Care! Smithy! We're waiting for you! What the fuck are you two doing?!'