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Farrell and Ford

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The team made their way back through the International Stadium Yokohama to the dressing room. There was very little conversion, the sense of disappointment hung thick in the air. Each player stripped off their skin tight shirts and stepped out of their muddy shorts and socks in their own time. Head Coach, Eddie Jones, made a brief appearance to mutter something about a meeting the day after, not that anybody was listening, or cared at this moment. With a disappointing performance they had let the 2019 Rugby World Cup slip through their fingers. After showering the dressing room emptied steadily until only two men remained. One was Owen Farrell, captain of the England rugby union team sat on one of the uncomfortable wooden dressing room benches. He had managed to shower, though the game replayed in his mind throughout. Each individual mistake, every time he should have made a different play, he just couldn’t shake it. Now, there he sat; elbows on his thighs, hands fidgeting anxiously, head hanging low. The other man was George Ford who was pulling on some fitted jeans over his thick rugby thighs. Still shirtless he looked over at his friend, teammate and captain. They had known each other for years, meeting first in school, and he knew exactly how the other man would react to this, the blame he would try to shoulder alone.

“Faz?! Come on, let’s get out of here” he spoke sympathetically using Owen’s nickname.

Farrell barely reacted completely devastated, his mind a haze of regrets. Being the leader, he felt that ultimately the failure was his. A few moments passed.

Ford placed a hand on Owen’s bare shoulder “Come here man!”, gesturing for a hug.

Owen couldn’t bare to speak but his small gesture was enough to overwhelm him with emotion prompting him to stand and throw his arms around his long-time friend. Farrell rested his face against the shorter Ford’s ear, their exposed torsos pulled close together. Owen’s breathing calmed as he felt his back reassuringly patted then rubbed by George’s strong hands. The tone of the hug naturally changed from one friend comforting another to something more playful rather than sympathetic and Owen felt an instinctive urge to press his lips teasingly against Ford’s ear.

“Owen, we can’t!” George breathed unconvincingly, the light touch of Farrell’s lips and the warm breath against his ear hard to resist. He only called him Owen when he was trying to be serious, failing in this case.

“How many times have we said that?!” Owen whispered letting his hand travel down George’s built back to his thick butt pushing his already hard cock noticeably against his friend. This was always the way it had gone with them. They had first fooled around in school where they met. Every time as they got older though they had agreed they shouldn’t be doing this and it was the last time, but it never was, even if it has become much more infrequent with the pressures and responsibilities of adult life.

“I know…” Ford agreed a pleading tone lacing his voice, “but anyone could come back and see”

“I don’t care!” the captain responding adding a light kiss to George’s lips, “I need this, I need you!”

Hearing Owen say he needed him was too much for George, he kissed his friend back quickly but with more force this time. The infectious, boyish smile that always made George crumble crept across Owen’s face, the first time since their crushing defeat. The pair smashed their lips together, a passionate, deep, knowing kind of kiss that only came from a familiarity with one another. Farrell’s hands were all over Ford’s body, he had always loved that he was a stocky, shorter build than his own. They contrasted in a lot of ways physically. Ford was shorter with darker hair, carrying a little more muscle with Farrell the taller of the two with a more slender, muscled frame and blond hair. George’s tight jeans that Owen was now fumbling to open only emphasized their difference in build.

“Jesus Faz” the shorter man laughed pushing his friend away playfully, “Let me do it!”.

Farrell stepped back throwing his hands up jokingly with that smile on his face again. George watched him back off taking in the familiar sight of his captain’s own beautiful body. A body that now only had a ridiculously low, obscenely tenting, towel as coverage. Owen laughed noticing where Ford’s eyes hand landed and that it had stopped him in his tracks.

He whipped off the towel clean off and threw it straight at George “Take off, the fucking jeans!” Owen smiled his cock swinging from side to side.

Ford laughed launching the towel back, but missing. As instructed, he pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them. Immediately Farrell was on him, kissing again, more urgency than before. Owen’s hands went straight to the waistband of George’s underwear, slipping inside to grope his meaty ass. The smaller man loved the way Owen man-handled him, how he loved his body, feeling it with such admiration and lust. He also loved that he had to look up to Owen to kiss him, that the man towered over him.

Through the kiss George awkwardly took hold of Farrell’s cock pressed between them. It had been a long time but it felt as at home in his hand as it ever had, thick and heavy. He worked his hand over it as well as he could in the cramped confines between their bodies.

Ford had to let go as Owen broke the kiss and fell to his knees, playfully grazing George’s nipple as his did. This was certainly a surprise. Owen rarely sucked him, mainly due to time constraints when they fell into this old pattern, but it was unexpected. He gasped as the captain pulled his underwear down and his cock smacked against Owen’s face. Looking down on his friend he still wore that fucking smile he couldn’t handle, but it changed, to the face, THAT face, the one that he had made before the New Zealand match staring down the Haka, that cocky smirk that had promoted a thousand memes. George loved that he knew what that face meant, well, what it meant between the two of them. He had seen it countless times when Owen meant to get down to business. George wasn’t sure if Faz was aware that he had made his “I’m going to pound you face” face in front of the world, but he wasn’t going to tell him.

Farrell licked the cock head hands free letting it bob around. He was still playing but he was in control much like before the New Zealand match and he still had that cocky smirk. Even though he was on his knee’s he knew he held the power over his teammate. Teasing George he repeated this a few times before taking the head in his mouth, running the inside of his lips across the smooth skin, already tasting his friend’s precum. Owen had to admit he wasn’t massively experienced with sucking cock but he knew George’s well, it fit the rugby player’s stature well, but perhaps longer than people might expect. Taking it in his hand feeling the heat under his grip, he took the tip in his mouth sliding down to take as much as he could before it triggered his gag reflex. Farrell settled into taking a comfortable amount of Ford’s cock in his mouth bobbing his head back on forth, noisily slurping on his friend’s cock, trying to remember to use his tongue along with his hand and lips. Owen tried to recall what he liked when getting his cock sucked, mainly from George, and it seemed to be working as he had hoped.

Farrell worked his own dick getting off on sucking his teammate. George placed a hand on the back of his head, a gentle prompt to Owen to try and take his whole dick. The captain reached around and took hold of Ford’s butt, using it to pull himself down further on his friend’s cock. He strained his throat but pushed on. Hardly able to breathe and his face red hot he struggled but wanted to take all of George’s dick. Without warning Ford pulled Owen’s head toward him holding his whole cock down Owen’s throat. Owen wretched for a few seconds, trying to away before eventually being set free by an amused Ford.

Panting loudly “You son of a bitch!” Owen smiled gasping for air.

“I saw my chance” his teammate answered with a smirk.

They knew each other well, knew how to push each other’s buttons and it usually led to this back and forth. Though George was happy to be the one on his knees he enjoyed provoking Farrell, probably the sportsman in him. Owen quickly rose from his knees grabbing the back of Ford’s neck as they met for a more forceful kiss this time, breathing heavily through it. They grasped at each other’s flesh with the strength you would expect from two pro athletes leaving red marks and scratches wherever their hands managed to grab. Their bodies were so closely intertwined, the desire to be closer, to feel and taste as much as possible overwhelming both of the rugby players. This rarely happened between them now so they wanted to take as much as they possibly could.

Owen reluctantly broke the kiss, looking down into George’s eyes with his arm around the back of his neck “Get over that bench now, I can’t wait anymore”

Much to his disappointment George peeled his body from Farrell’s. He grabbed the towel and threw it on the floor, knelt on it and leaned over the uncomfortable wooden bench. Owen took a moment to take in the sight of Ford from behind, his huge back, fat ass and thick legs, what a sight. Owen quickly joined George on his knees, placing himself behind him. He reached over, straining to grab some lube and a condom from his bag.

“No!” George snapped looking around at his friend, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth. “Fuck me bare!” Owen apprehensively looked at his friend a second making sure he was certain; they very rarely went bare anymore with families and girlfriends.

“I want to feel you” the response sensing the unspoken question from Farrell.

Throwing the condom aside Owen popped the top off the lube with his thumb and squeezed it into his hand, rubbing it along the length of his cock, paying close attention to the head. He squeezed more onto his fingers and rubbed it on George’s hole. Ford gasped quietly at the sensation; it had been so long. There wasn’t much time to get used to the feeling as soon Owen’s thick fingers slid into him. It was uncomfortable at first but he was soon breathing and relaxing enough to let Owen work his fingers in with ease. Farrell added an additional finger, building up to finger fuck his teammate. George moaned as Owen fucked his fingers into him adding a gasp as he felt them brush against his prostate.

As soon as he removed his fingers Owen immediately lined up his cock pushing into his friend’s willing hole. Ford’s eye widened as hit felt the thickness of his friend opening him up to what felt like an impossibly wide amount. George rested his left arm out in front of him on the bench and he reached forward to steady himself by grabbing the edge as his captain’s length was buried in him. His right hand was working his cock quickly as Owen’s cock completely filled him. There was no break. Owen was immediately shallowly thrusting into George. Ford tightened his grip of the bench as he felt his teammate fucking into him.

“OH fuuuuck!” George moaned as Owen built to a steady fuck. He thought this might be easier if they did it more regularly but they shouldn’t. This had to be the last time.

Farrell smiled to himself, George had always been a moaner. Sometimes it was an issue when they found themselves in these situations unexpectedly but he had missed the sound and he loved to make him moan. Owen’s hands were on the bottom’s shoulder and hip now, gaining more leverage to pound his hole. Ford still working his own cock with a tight grip, copious amounts of precum leaking from the tip.

“Uuuuuhh mate!” Was all Owen could moan in his thick northern accent completely lost in the moment as fucked his friend.

“Fuck me Faz!” Ford barely managed to reply breathlessly and swallowing hard.

Farrell’s jaw clenched as he started slamming his friend. Deep, sharp, powerful strokes into the smaller man causing the sound of incomprehensible moans and Owen’s hips smacking against George’s ass to echo around the room. George’s grip on the bench was so tight now his hand had gone white he felt like it might snap. Now, Owen was really going to town on his ass, Ford was barely coping, but he loved it like this, again it could be the sportsman in him but he loved being pushed to his limits to take anything thrown at him. Though it was still hard, and desperate and rough he knew his friend was close as he sped up his fuck into a steadier rhythm.

“Fuck mate, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fill me up Faz, give it to me!” George almost begged knowing he sounded like a total slut.

Owen’s entire body jerked forward as his started shooting his load inside his friend accompanied by a deep animalistic moan emanating from his throat, jerking further at each wave of his powerful orgasm. He slowly milked his cock dry, fucking his friend gently. Owen kissed the back of George’s neck, working his spent, still hard cock slowly into the cum filled bottom. The kiss pushed George past the point of no return, he shot his load all over the towel underneath him, Owen’s cock brushing his prostate gently intensifying his orgasm.

“Holy fuck Faz!” Was all Ford could say legs shaky underneath him, his orgasm subsiding but still riding the sex high.

“Thank you!” Owen responded; his voice full of genuine appreciation. He pulled his friend around for a final kiss, this time a tender, softer kiss than before.