| TITLE : Save It for the Morning After
Wayne Rooney woke up feeling a little disorientated. His arse felt like it needed a shit, but there wasn't the pressure from his colon that normally accompanied the sensation. He thought he had never slept so deeply, and lay with his eyes closed, drifting languorously back into consciousness. The sheets were soft, and has he rubbed them against his chest, he remembered where he was: England training camp. In Alan Shearer's bed. With Alan Shearer. And last night, Alan had… There was a snuffle next to him. He opened his eyes and looked lazily across the pillow. Gold satin pillowcases. It really was Alan Shearer. His mind recalled the events of last night. He had got pissed in the bar, and Alan had taken him outside to sober up a bit. It had worked, and somehow the England captain had persuaded him that it was alright to go to bed together. Oh, and suck each other's cocks, and to get his arse drilled by the big Geordie's magnificent dick. He looked at the ceiling again. Wow.
There was a little sinfonietta of quiet grunting noises from next to him, and Alan rolled over, throwing an arm carelessly over Wayne 's chest. Although still sleeping, the older man recognised the familiar feel of his partner and snuggled in closer. Wayne was still a little shocked at himself, and at how, for Alan, the events of last night seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. His doubts didn't last long, however; the feel of the thick hair on his captain's chest and belly against his side, the leg hooked over his knees and the hand on his own chest were enough to convince him that there was no better way to wake up then this.
Alan shifted his leg, rubbing it against Wayne 's thigh. The movement enhanced Wayne 's early-morning erection, and he reached down and scratched his balls absently. Then he gently grazed his finger across Alan's nipple, making him twitch. Wayne angled his head and kissed the other man's forehead. Alan moaned appreciatively and again shifted his body, allowing Wayne to slip an arm under his neck and wrap it round his shoulder. His cock was seriously hard now, and needed some attention. He licked his finger and rubbed it on the head. Alan's hand slid down from Wayne 's nipple and stroked his cock.
‘I can help you with that,' he murmured.
Wayne kissed him again, now on the lips. Alan's mouth parted and they were kissing passionately, kissing like last night. Alan was still heavy with sleep, but conscious enough to know where he was, and with whom. Another new recruit, another great shag, he thought languidly. And allowed himself a little internal smile. Play your cards right and you might get afters this morning.
Wayne was having similar thoughts. He knew that he was by no means the only man in the world who woke up feeling horny, and here he was with an incredibly sexy man in bed with him. But as Alan began lazily to rub his stiffening cock against Wayne 's leg, Wayne was way ahead of him. Getting fucked in the arse was fantastic, but in his mind was the image of Alan's bum as he had seen it yesterday in that tight little jock. That's what he really wanted. And life had taught Wayne Rooney that when you wanted something, you went and got it.
He slipped from under his captain's hug, and Alan rolled on to his front with a grunt. Wayne stripped the covers back, revealing once more that amazing arse. He wasn't absolutely sure he was ready for the next bit, but if Alan could do it, so could he. He spread Alan's legs, and, pausing only briefly to enjoy the view, knelt down between his thighs, pulled his buttocks apart with his fingers, and thrust his face in, roughly inserting his tongue into the hairy crack. The taste was musty and rich, but it was all man, and Wayne 's cock throbbed in anticipation.
Alan gave a cry of surprise. Snapped instantly into wakefulness, he tried to raise himself up, but Wayne quickly leant on his back so that he was prone again. He was helpless, and gave himself up to the undeniable pleasure of having the young man lash his arsehole with his tongue. It was a while since he had let anyone pay attention to his arse; generally he was calling the shots, and apart from memorably sitting on Michael Owen's face, it was pretty much virgin territory in there. He was disappointed when Wayne pulled his face away.
‘Don't stop,' he called over his shoulder.
‘Don't worry,' said Wayne smugly. ‘I think you know what's next.'
Wayne cast his mind back eight hours or so. A finger was it? Or was it a thumb? He'd try the thumb for starters. He spat on Alan's hole and pushed his thumb in all the way. Still leaning on the other man's back, he felt the shock of his entry pulse through his body. Good. He slid it in and out a couple of times. It looked fantastic, and made his cock strain to enter. Softly softly though. Alan had treated him right the night before, and, despite his enthusiasm to fuck his skipper's fabulous backside, Wayne would be a perfect gentleman. At least until he was nailing him to the bed, anyway.
For Alan this was all new. He had two choices: struggle and make a fuss, and in his current position that was going to be tricky (and anyway, he got the impression that Wayne was not a young man to be denied); or he could lie there and learn to enjoy it. It seemed only fair – he had screwed Wayne hard the night before, and loved every second in the stocky Mersysider's tight little hole – and actually, the sensation in his own arse was pretty good. He tried to imagine the sight of the young man kneeling above him, now twisting two fingers around in his widening chute, and the wide, club-like cock that would soon be poised to drill him. It was good, he was getting used to the invasion of his hole, and began to moan with pleasure. Why had he not tried this before?
Wayne took his hero's moans as an incontrovertible sign of encouragement, and redoubled his efforts. Happy that the big man was ready for him, he pulled his fingers out, and grabbed Alan by the hips. He pulled him roughly to his knees, and leant back briefly to look at the magnificent arse in front of him, the legs slightly apart, balls dangling down between them. Admiration over, he took his cock in his hand, and rubbed it against the Geordie hole.
‘Do you want it, Alan? Do you want my fat cock in your hairy arse? Do you?' His voice became louder with each question.
Alan took another look over his shoulder. The stocky teenager was fisting his cock in preparation. There was nothing he wanted more.
‘Give it to me, Wayne. Give it to me hard.'
Wayne needed no further encouragement. He poised his blunt, swollen cock-head against the rosy pucker and pushed. Here his technique differed from that which he had learned: he just pushed all the way in in one movement.
‘Here it comes!'
Alan roared. As he had half-expected, Wayne lacked subtlety, but he didn't care. He forgot about the rest of his body; only his arse, sticking up in the air and full of thick, teenage cock, mattered. His own dick was hard and throbbing, but he paid it no attention. Wayne began to establish a rhythm, and he began to rock in time with the thrust behind him, pushing back as the boy plunged forward into him, arse meeting pelvis in an ecstasy of masculinity. My God, he was thick; he had noticed that when he blew him the previous night. If he'd have thought then that he'd take the massive weapon up his virgin arse this morning…
Wayne was back in fuck heaven. He just plowed into the sexy, hairy mounds in front of him, hanging on to Alan's hips and pulling him further on to his cock. The sight of his thick meat disappearing repeatedly inside his idol's arse was bringing him close. But there was something else he wanted. He pulled out.
‘Turn over,' he commanded.
Alan did as he was told, eager to watch the young stud as he got fucked by him.
Wayne took hold of his knees, and hooked them over his shoulders. He grabbed Alan's cock, and then drove his own back inside, now wanking Alan in time to the rhythm of his fucking.
Alan knew he wouldn't last long now. The sight of the hairy-chested young man between his thighs, the thick cock beating his arse, the hand on his own beer-bottle dick, it was all too much. He shook, cried out, and squirted come all over his chest. Thinking that Wayne wouldn't be far behind, he began to relax, but there was no let-up. Wayne just discarded his cock, and pulled him further onto his own, fucking him harder. He pushed Alan's knees up till only the older man's shoulders were in contact with the bed, giving himself another great view of Alan's balls and arse as he continued the relentless assault. Alan was still moaning and crying out, and finally Wayne felt the end coming. His movements became jerky, he tried to concentrate on keeping his rhythm, but with three last, long, shuddering thrusts, he exploded up his captain's arse. He was dripping sweat into Alan's crotch and belly, mixing with the spunk left there from the other man's orgasm. He sank back, exhausted, his cock squeezing messily from the sweaty hole. He lay down next to Alan, unable to move or speak.
‘Hey,' said Alan.
Wayne just exhaled noisily.
‘That was good. You little beauty.'
Alan kissed the boy on the lips and forehead, and held him close. No matter what he did on the football pitch, Wayne Rooney was immortal in Alan Shearer's memory.
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