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It’s already difficult enough being an omega in such an alpha-dominated sport, but it’s harder to find loopholes around certain biological necessities. Heats. Days of pain as his body wants to have a child followed by more days spent lying around in a haphazard slick-stained nest that inevitably ends up smelling cloyingly sweet with arousal.
Just when Jude doesn’t think his coach can surprise him anymore, he hears the worst thing ever come out of Tuchel’s mouth.
“There’s only one way to weather your heat before the game against Norway,” Tuchel muses, like what he is about to say isn't the most diabolical thing that Jude has heard in his life.
“Yeah?”
He takes a deep breath, so Jude does too, mentally preparing himself.
“You need to put a dick in you.”
“... come again?”
“I recommend a long and girthy one, if possible. If not that, then just a long one. With a thick inflatable knot. Either way, we need you in perfect shape in a few days, and sometimes, biology has the final say.”
Jude stares, horrified. His coach is talking about dicks without batting an eye. Knotting dildos, to be precise.
At last, he gains some semblance of his composure to ask, in a voice that’s about three octaves too high, “Ignoring that you just told me to get fucked, literally, just where am I meant to find a dick that meets those standards?”
Tuchel rolls his eyes. “At the sex shop, I’d presume,” he replies sarcastically. “They have a wide selection of them too, in every color imaginable. You might even be able to get yourself one in the team’s colors.”
“Right. Yeah. How silly of me, hah.”
And then, because he’s literally paid to torture Jude, Tuchel drops a second bombshell.
“Or I reckon you could just ask Haaland. You know, your alpha?”
Hey, Erling, would you mind sticking your Tuchel-approved dick in my ass?
Hey, Erling, I have a growing issue in my pants, and your knot is the cure.
Hey, Erling, I heard you have a magical dick. Care to work your magic by impaling me with your meat wand?
Hey, Erling,-
“Arghhhhh,” Jude moans, cheeks growing hot at his own rapidly spiraling thoughts. This is what insanity must feel like. If only he could turn his insanity into something tangible because it certainly is fucking him in the ass.
He could just walk his sorry, insanity-fucked ass to a sex shop, buy himself a knotting dildo thick enough and long enough to solve his problems, and be done with it. However, why would he settle for a (huge) piece of silicone and his own clumsy technique when he could have a nice, warm, pulsing-
“No!” Jude slaps his cheeks a little, purging the thought from his mind. He faceplants into the fluffy pillow on the bed in his hotel room, attempting to kill his embarrassment by way of asphyxiation.
It’s even worse when he remembers that Erling Haaland isn’t actually his alpha. Sure, they’re close, as friends, and he has a tiny but growing crush on him, but anyone would develop feelings for someone as goofy and sweet and- and as built as Erling. Jude isn’t going to deny that they have great chemistry both on and off the pitch, and if only Erling would see that-
Seeking him out for the sole reason of spending Jude’s heat together will definitely make him want Jude as more than a friend.
Staring at the ceiling, he mutters, “Yeah, I just want you to fuck me until I pass out for the next three days, uh-huh. Thanks. Cheers, mate.”
He fails to notice that his thumb has been pressing the little microphone next to the message bar until he hears the telltale sound of an incoming WhatsApp notification.
you want me to do what?
Jude is avoiding his friend, which is a terribly difficult feat when they’re in the same city, about to play against each other.
Why must his life be so hard, pun unintended?
And because the universe has it out for him, it places the source of all his troubles right in front of his hotel room, scent amplified tenfold in the thick Miami heat. For the record, he’s not complaining at all, not even when it makes his legs—his strong, football-trained legs—go a little weak.
Oh, who is he kidding? Just being in Erling Haaland’s presence again reminds him that his crush is actually the culmination of multiple years’ worth of repressed adoration.
“Ow,” Jude whines, rubbing his forehead where it collided with Erling’s chin. “Can you not be so solid next time?”
“Sure, mate. I will lay off the exercises for a while.” Erling crosses his arms over his bulging, muscular, delicious- ahem, his chest and that, unfortunately, is sexy as hell. There’s no reason for his biceps to look like that as a footballer.
Absolutely none at all.
Jude still stares at Erling’s arms, distracted momentarily, before attempting to close the door on his friend. “Uh-huh, you do that. I’ll just… be back in my room. Far away.”
Only, before Jude can even turn around and flee, Erling wrestles his way into the room and snags him around the waist with one of his stupidly big, muscular arms. How did Erling know that he enjoys being manhandled?
Maybe the universe loves him, after all.
“Calm down, Jude,” Erling says, exasperated. “We are fine to talk right here.”
Jude worries his bottom lip between his teeth, trying very hard not to get… hard. Erections in a fluffy bathrobe are the most embarrassing occurrences ever, followed closely by erections in team kit.
“Tuchel told me everything. He called me your alpha, for some reason.”
“Oh, God.”
“He also begged me to help you.”
“Oh, God.”
“Jude.”
Jude squeaks.
“Do you want me to help you?”
After a moment of honest-to-God gaping at Erling, Jude does the most logical thing, which is to bite down on Erling’s shoulder—it’s right there, in his defense—and startle him into letting go.
It’s rather unfair of him, he knows, as they’re supposed to be having a nice, civil conversation. As friends.
Right. Talk. They were doing that, right up until Erling propositioned him.
Or did Jude proposition him first? Fucking hell.
Jude feels out of his depth at the moment, which is weird because he never feels that way about sex. But he has Erling in his hotel room, blessedly in clothes that aren’t Norwegian National Team kit and wearing the most nonchalant expression a person can muster.
The spike in his scent, though, like a forest covered in frost, is distinctly alpha.
“It’s just sex,” Jude tells himself, muttering under his breath. “And my heat.”
“Should I be offended?”
“No, you dickhead.”
Erling leans against the doorway, wearing an infuriating little smirk. “Hey, don’t insult the dick that is supposed to fix you. I am doing you and your team a favor.”
Jude responds by taking his bathrobe off.
“Wow.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He tosses his discarded bathrobe onto the chair by the bed—the fancy one that every hotel room has for, like, cucks—and bends over to remove his socks.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, have a good look, because this is probably the only time you’ll ever get to fuck me,” Jude sniffs, feeling a bit lightheaded when he straightens.
Erling lifts an eyebrow. “Really? How sad.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m vulnerable, mate.”
Jude eyes his friend and feels his cheeks go hot at how eager he must appear to him, already naked with the exception of his tightest pair of white briefs.
Lord.
It’s nothing special, in his defense. The whole world has seen him in his underwear by now, if the images floating across his social media are any indication. But the underwear in question does get a little damp when Erling climbs over him on the king bed and hovers there, caging him in with his thick arms.
“Take your clothes off, Erling.”
The perfect opportunity to tease Jude is practically handed to him on a silver platter, but Erling just rolls his eyes and tugs his shirt over his head, and that-
-that should simply be illegal.
No number of Paparazzi edits on loop nor totally platonic hugs that involve leaping into his arms and expecting to be caught can ever hold a candle to Erling getting naked for him. Jude’s mouth goes dry as he watches the muscles flex in his friend’s chest and abs. It’s so nice being trapped between a mattress and a hard place.
Erling removes his jeans and underwear in one go, leaving Jude breathless and choking on his own spit.
He can feel his lower back throb in anticipation… or pain from being in pre-heat for so long. It’s probably the pain, but he can’t take his eyes off of Erling’s cock while he subconsciously licks his lips. He’ll have to send Tuchel a flower arrangement for prescribing such a deliciously fat knot to him.
Jude hopes he doesn’t have to wait too long until Erling’s long, girthy cock rearranges his insides and locks him onto the knot at its base.
“It is like you’re trying to burn a hole through my dick by staring at it,” Erling says, and Jude stops sucking the dick in question with his eyes for a moment to look back up at him.
“Erling,” he complains, “could you at least try to be sexy?”
Contrary to what he says, Jude squirms, letting an embarrassing moan escape when Erling grinds his hips down on purpose. The thin cotton layer of Jude’s underwear between them only serves to turn him on even more and make slick gush out of him.
But Erling is quick to get off of him, putting a significant distance between them and leaving Jude half-naked and whining in confusion and arousal and the haze of his heat beginning to settle in.
“Sorry, I know you don’t really have a choice, so I was trying not to make things any worse for you.”
Jude huffs, turning his face into the nearest pillow in embarrassment. Did the alpha that he had to fall headfirst for suddenly lose his sense of smell? The room is already filled with the scent of honeysuckle, sweetened with Jude’s arousal.
“Erling Haaland, you idiot. I wouldn’t have sex with someone I didn’t want to, much less let them into my nest and spend my heat with me, so get your pasty ass back in bed and fuck me so good I forget my name, okay?”
Erling’s next breath whistles through his teeth as his scent grows sharper. “Okay. Okay, that is good to know.”
One minute, he’s confident, and the next, he’s fumbling, so why is Jude so charmed?
“I'll ride you. It’ll be deeper that way.” His cock twitches in his briefs at his own suggestion, and he bucks his hips up in surprise when Erling lowers his head to mouth right over the damp patch. “Wha- huh? Erling, you can’t- unh- you can’t do that, or I’ll come too soon!”
Erling hums and promptly pulls the briefs down, lifting Jude’s legs out of the way with a warm hand wrapped around his ankles, one after the other. Jude involuntarily curls his toes at how gently Erling’s handling him.
He doesn’t realize that he’s just staring at Erling until a vibrant blush burns across his pale cheeks.
Jude can’t believe he finds this big, strong, capable alpha so unbearably endearing sometimes.
But as soon as Jude swings a leg over Erling’s lap to straddle him, something shifts in the atmosphere, from easy banter and sexy little touches to tension so thick it can be cut with a knife. Not wanting to think anymore, Jude breaks eye contact to reach into the nightstand, where he put his travel-sized lube last night after wanking to his fantasies of getting split open on Erling’s thick cock.
Which are about to become a reality.
He exhales in disbelief as his spine tingles, this time in anticipation, and the lube is instantly rendered useless when slick leaks out of him.
“You can ride me, if that is what you want, but- here, let me just-” Erling puts his hands on Jude’s waist, slipping them under his shirt, and drags him to where he wants him to be. “Like this. If you get tired, I can just take over.”
“God, that’s so hot,” Jude blurts out, and his hands immediately fly up to cover his mouth. He’s so glad he’s sitting in Erling’s lap and facing away from him.
Erling still laughs at him because he’s actually evil under such a cutie façade.
Lifting himself up a little, Jude finally takes his shirt off and coats his fingers in lube, wasting no time in reaching behind and pressing one in, sighing as he relaxes around it. The little choked noise that Erling lets out behind him fills him with relief that he’s not the only one affected and delight that he’s the one who has this effect on him.
“You can touch me,” Jude gasps, adding another finger. Oh, the stretch is good, familiar and so, so wet. “Don’t make me do all the work.”
Erling’s forehead hits his back, and Jude can feel his breathless laughter against his skin. He wants it etched there like a tattoo, right between his shoulder blades.
“Yeah, alright. What a horrible alpha I would be if I made you do all the work, huh?”
Jude swears he almost comes on the spot when Erling’s larger hand coaxes his own away and three fingers slide in to take its place. He groans, tossing his head back onto Erling’s shoulder. A kiss is absentmindedly placed on the side of his throat, and he suddenly feels full, overflowing even.
Some part of him wants this to last forever, safe in the cradle of Erling’s arms, but the more logical side of him is begging Erling to speed things up, to fuck him through the thick of his heat and leave him alone to get over himself in peace.
He hates how easily he gets attached.
“Hey, I lost you for a moment,” Erling murmurs jokingly. He curls his fingers, barely grazing Jude’s prostate, but that’s enough to make him cry out and his back arch with pleasure. “Am I really that boring?”
More than ever, Jude is glad Erling can’t see his face and the emotions bubbling up because he’d stop and do something stupid like- like wipe his tears away with fingers sticky with lube and slick, and Jude would have no chance at squashing his rapidly ballooning affection for him.
“No, sorry. Just thinking.”
“Wow, thinking. I’ll try not to make you do too much of that soon.”
Jude whimpers when the fingers inside him disappear, leaving him empty and aching and leaking steadily, but Erling rubs soothing circles against his hip, like he knows that’s exactly what Jude needs, and continues mouthing at the side of his neck as he rolls a condom on and slicks himself up.
Impatiently spreading his thighs, Jude reaches back to line Erling’s cock up with his hole and moans when the head pops past his fluttering rim. It somehow feels bigger now that it’s going inside him, splitting him open in the best way. While Erling’s breathing grows heavier in his ear, Jude slowly sinks down for what feels like hours until he finally bottoms out, fully seated on Erling’s cock. He lets out a trembling exhale.
“Holy fuck.” Jude can’t think.
For the first time in his life, Erling doesn’t have anything snarky to add, merely letting him adjust to his size. “Take your time.”
Mounted on Erling’s muscular thighs, Jude lifts himself up on shaky legs and suddenly sits back down all at once. The sound he makes is high and embarrassing, almost a wheeze as the air is punched from his lungs, but he can’t bring himself to care when he begins riding Erling with a desperate fervor, chasing his own building pleasure.
“Oh, God, Jude,” Erling grits out, and Jude is pretty sure he’s going to have fingerprints on his waist a week from now.
“You’re so big,” he moans. “S’filling me up so nice, ah, wanna feel you for days.”
Erling’s hips stutter, thrusting up to meet Jude’s. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin has Jude unbelievably hard, and each nudge of Erling’s cock against his prostate makes him tremble.
Jude wets his mouth, too delirious and cock-drunk to properly rub two brain cells together. His legs finally give out underneath him, but Erling coaxes him onto his front and continues fucking into him from behind. Hugging a pillow to muffle his moaning, Jude lets him, feeling like he’s been molded around Erling’s cock, like it’s carving a path into him.
“Fuck. Can you- hah- come just like this?” Erling asks between little grunts of exertion.
Jude thinks he nods, but all the blood has left his head, redirected south to his straining cock. Each thrust rocks the bed, and he’s about to make a fucking mess of himself.
He’s so close, just a little more… and his orgasm hits him like a truck.
The moment Erling nails his prostate again, Jude unravels, mouth falling open on a soundless cry as rope after rope of cum streaks the bed.
He swears he blacks out, and when he regains consciousness, he whines at the drag of Erling’s cock against his sensitive hole.
“Sorry, I’ll just-” Erling sounds ruined.
Jude clenches around him, stopping him from pulling out. Voice cracking, he chokes out, “No, keep going. Want- want your knot.”
He wishes the condom between them didn’t exist, that it wouldn’t prevent him from feeling Erling come inside him as his knot inflates, locking them together. He bites his pillow to prevent himself from telling Erling that he wants to be plugged full of his cum, marked up and claimed by him from within. All he has to show for it are a couple pretty hickeys dotting the side of his neck, where Erling couldn’t resist gnawing on him a little.
Fuck.
Jude just wants Erling to keep him.
After a long stretch of silence, Erling’s knot deflates, and his warm weight disappears, leaving Jude to roll over, empty in more ways than one.
Starfished across the bed, he stares at the ceiling in disbelief. He can’t feel his legs, but more importantly, he can’t feel the dull throbbing in his lower back anymore.
“What the fuck,” he wheezes, because he’s never been fucked this thoroughly in his life.
Erling returns from the bathroom with a damp towel, unashamed in his nudity. And if Jude’s being honest, he too feels a bit like a damp towel right now, and Erling can wring him like one whenever he wants. Anything he thinks during his heat should not be held against him.
If post-match Erling is hot as fuck, then post-sex Erling is a revelation.
“So… should we debrief before your heat grips you again? What is the verdict on having sex with me?”
“Ugh, you’re such a fucking nerd.”
Unfortunately, Jude still finds him utterly scrumptious, even if he’s getting kind of emotional at how gently Erling is scrubbing the cum off of him. God.
He clears his throat.
“Something on your mind?” Erling asks, and maybe Jude needs to get his heart checked if it continues flipping out on him like this.
But Erling’s the one who just ruined him for sex with anyone else, and then proceeded to ask him ridiculous questions, all while being attentive and taking care of him. He didn’t even need any convincing to help Jude with his heat.
Hey, Erling, did you know I’m in love with you?
“Yeah,” Jude replies breathlessly. “Oh, God, you can fuck me anyday.”
Erling’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.
“I was kind of hoping you would say that.”
And when Jude drags him down into a kiss for the first time, he goes willingly.
“Oh, you took my advice!” Tuchel exclaims, approximately three days later on the morning of the match. “That’s rare.”
Jude opens his mouth and then closes it again, choosing to nod instead.
“So what kind of knotting dildo did you end up choosing?”
Of course, Erling decides right at that moment to sleepily wander out of Jude’s bathroom, still yawning and thankfully clothed. Without clocking the other occupant of the room, he makes a beeline to Jude to snake his arms around waist, kiss his reddening cheek, and tuck his face in the crook of his neck, promptly falling asleep. It’s absurdly cute.
It's insane that he fucks.
Jude can’t bring himself to wake Erling up, currently resembling a fish as he opens and closes his mouth, and the only thing that comes out is, “Uh.”
He has the distinct feeling that he isn’t going to like what his coach is going to say.
“It’s convenient that your alpha was only a few streets away since you’re playing him later today. Just try not to distract him with your pheromones, as we want a fair game, okay?”
The door slams shut, and Jude exhales loudly. His weighted blanket huffs a laugh against the side of his neck.
“I like that he thinks I am your alpha already,” Erling mumbles, rubbing his cheek against Jude’s like an affectionate, oversized cat. “Come to Man City after all this is over. Your pheromones would make us better teammates.”
Jude rolls his eyes. “That was poor, even for you.” Still, he lets himself be drawn into a surprisingly sweet kiss. “I get to mark you first if I win today.”
“Deal.”
The reporters have a field day when Erling Haaland returns to Norway with a raccoon and a fresh mating bite proudly decorating his neck.