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Jude takes a deep breath, exhales, and walks quickly to the elevator.
It's a bit reckless, and a bit stupid, and Erling might be mad at him for it, might not even answer the door, but he has to do it.
He's still high on England's win against Norway. He knows he wouldn't change today's result for the world, but there's something tugging at him, something that's not letting him enjoy the win with his whole heart. He walks in the elevator almost involuntarily, operating on autopilot, bouncing at the balls of his feet with nervous, excited energy that he needs to burn.
And there's only one person that can put out the fire in him.
The elevator arrives at the 12th floor. Jude hesitates for only a second, then leaves the cab with clenched, clammy fists and his heart trying to beat outside of his ribs.
The floor is a maze of corridors and turns, and he knows he has to be quick and stealthy and go unnoticed.
He could have called. Asked Erling to wait for him. But he told himself it would be better to surprise him, catch him unaware and unprepared.
Erling would be happy to see him, of course. Or would he? He always was, before. But this is different, unprecedented. They've won and lost against each other, they've won and lost together, too, and it never came between them, but tonight was the biggest game they'd ever played.
What if something changed? What if Erling doesn't want to see him anymore? What if he has complaints about his team, about the referees, about the journalists, about Jude?
Logically, Jude knows all of this to be untrue. Erling was a good sport about the loss, like he expected he would be. He only showed appreciation and affection to Jude on the pitch – maybe too much appreciation and definitely too much affection.
Jude takes two wrong turns before he finds room 1218. All is quiet around him, the corridors as empty as the elevator was before. It's 11:30 pm. Jude barely had time for a quick bite and a special shower before calling a taxi and rushing out of his hotel room, his parents knowing exactly where he was going and saying nothing.
He stands in front of Erling's door. It should be easy to knock. It always was, before.
Everything's easy between them, it's the rest that is not. Different teams. Different countries. Having to lie, having to hide, having to act close enough to be marketable and distant enough to be palatable.
But knocking should be easy.
It's not.
Jude wonders how Erling would feel in his place, if he would even make the journey from one hotel to the other, wear a cap and a jacket and a facemask in this heat, if he would care about his feelings as much as he cared about winning.
Jude is wearing the cap and the jacket and the mask, and he's sweaty and light-headed, and so exhausted, and all he wants is to crawl into bed with a different Erling than the one he expects to find tonight. An Erling who never lost, because he never played against him. Not here, not today.
A door opens somewhere in the distance, and Jude panics, pounds his fist on Erling's door on reflex. He looks around. Nobody seems to be coming his way.
The door in front of him opens a few seconds later, Erling looking at him with his mouth hanging open. The shock lasts only a second, Erling steps aside and pulls Jude inside the room. “Come on!”
Erling envelops him into the most comforting hug in the world, because that's what he does. He tosses Jude's cap away, and Jude lowers his mask, breathing in Erling's scent.
He was right to come here, how could he be so stupid and doubt himself?
Damp platinum hair tickles Jude's nape, and he lets go. He wants to kiss Erling, he wants to feel him inside him, he wants to jump inside his skin, he wants to drag him to the English squad and then take him to Madrid and have him in his house and his bed and look at him all the time.
They breathe each other in, Erling holding his face in his giant palms.
“Had to see you,” Jude mumbles.
Erling shakes his head. “You shouldn't be here.” He kisses the corner of Jude's mouth even as he admonishes him.
“I know,” Jude says.
They've done worse.
He kisses Erling, hard and fast and urgent, burning up. He walks them backwards, Erling's feet hit the sofa, Jude follows him down with their lips glued together. His knee hits Erling's crotch and he flinches. Jude can't suppress a giggle. Erling playfully hits his arm and then settles him on his lap, kissing him deeply. Jude tosses his mask away, and hastily takes off his jacket. It's been three days since they last saw each other. Since they saw each other like this. It's entirely too long but it couldn't be further from the longest they've gone without each other. Jude often thinks about how he's managed to bear it all these years. He never finds the answer.
“I'm sorry about today,” Jude says between kisses.
Erling pulls away, frowning. “Don't say shit you don't mean, man.”
“What?” Jude raises his eyebrows. Erling looks dejected in general, but he's looking at Jude with his usual love and affection. “You're happy for me, aren't you?”
“Of course,” Erling nods. And Jude knows he is. He saw the things he said about him already. His smile was real. His happiness for Jude was real.
“So, what? You can be happy for me, but I can't be sad for you?”
“You don't have to be,” Erling shrugs. “One of us had to lose.”
“I'm sorry it was you,” Jude says earnestly.
Erling huffs out a laugh. “No you're not, mate. We don't need to do this.”
Jude grabs his face with both hands. “I'm glad we won. I'm glad we're through. But I wish it wasn't against you. I wish we could be on the same team.”
It's the truth. He'll never get it for country, but maybe he'll get Erling playing in the same club as him one day.
“Can we not do this right now?” Erling asks.
Jude feels cold. He climbs off of Erling's lap and sits next to him. He can't – won't – go too far. Their thighs are touching. He hooks his pinky finger on Erling's and looks at him. “Do what?”
Erling waves his hand around, looking ahead. “Talk about what could be, what should be, what will be, I don't know... I'm drained.”
“I'm sorry,” Jude says earnestly. Erling is in a completely different emotional place than Jude right now. He's handling it way better than Jude would, because there's something inside him that's unshakable, but he's still the one that lost.
“Don't be sorry, Judy.” Erling smiles at him and pats his knee. Their pinkies come loose. When Erling notices Jude's fallen expression, he manhandles him so his things are over his lap, and stares at him with affection. “I can't believe you came here,” he says with a small smile. He strokes Jude's cheek. “You should be out there, celebrating with everyone.”
“I did for a bit. It was boring.”
Erling laughs out loud. “You liar!”
“What? It was.” Jude smiles. “You weren't there.”
“I expect my teammates would disown me if I came.” Erling looks way too amused at the possibility. “They already ribbed me for hugging you out there.”
“That was kinda mad,” Jude chuckles. “You were losing because of me!”
“And you literally groped my ass, so you're worse.”
“I didn't grope it, I tickled it.” Jude gives him a mischievous grin.
“Jude.” Erling looks at him sternly.
Jude laughs under his gaze. “Alright, alright.” He puts his hands up in the air, a peace offering. “I'm worse.” He can be the whipped loser tonight.
Erling puts his forehead against Jude's. “I'm so tired, man,” he sighs. His breath tickles Jude.
“You serious?” He asks, only a little bit disappointed. Did he have his special shower for nothing?
“You're not?!” Erling asks in surprise.
Jude smirks at him and gets up, turning around. There's a coffee table in front of the sofa. He braces his hands on it and practically shoves his ass in Erling's face. Subtle!
Erling's laughter is booming. He gropes Jude's ass, just like he knew he would. Jude doesn't know if he can see what Jude wants him to see, but it's not a big deal. He'll know soon enough. “Did I say I'm tired?” Erling's voice is comically high. “I was wrong. I'm fine. Perfect, actually.”
Jude smiles as he turns around. He climbs back on Erling's lap, right where he should have been the entire time. “You're leaving tomorrow, yeah?” He holds Erling's face in his hands and caresses his bottom lip. It's a bit chapped, so he kisses it.
“Mhm. I'm leaving at ten, actually.”
“See, how could I stay away?” Jude says and pecks him again. “I don't even know when I'll see you after this.”
He must look very upset, because Erling just melts for him. He gives him the most tender kiss of his life, and that's saying something. “We'll find a way. We always do.”
“Mhm,” Jude agrees. “You should sign with Real.”
Erling gives him a surprised Pikachu face, which is pretty much what he always does when Jude tries to lure him into his own team. “Jesus, Jude, what is it with the future talk, can't we just fuck already?!”
Jude guffaws. He did come here prepped and ready to do exactly that. But Erling could use some tact, regardless. “You're an idiot,” he playfully hits Erling's shoulder.
“You're right,” Erling says solemnly. “That was too fuckboy of me.”
“Yeah,” Jude breathes out. Who cares? He loves Erling's bluntness. You're never in the dark with him.
Jude has way too much pent up energy, and it's time he did something about it. “I wanna ride you.”
“Fuck.” Erling's hands cup his ass, and Jude's breath catches.
“Right here,” Jude says. He palms Erling's cock through his pajamas, then takes it out. It's hard already, and his man's not wearing any underwear. Jude almost drools for it, he wants it in his mouth so bad, but then he also wants it in his hole.
Erling notices his frown. “What?” He pouts. “You don't like little Erling? What has he done to you?”
Jude laughs. “You're ridiculous.”
Erling raises his eyebrows at him.
“I want to suck you,” Jude says, “but I want you to fuck me more.”
Erling coos at him. “Aww. Poor baby.”
“Shut up.” Jude says. He gets up (and it does take a lot of willpower – it's hard to stray away from each other when they're both horny like this) and turns around, lowering his tracksuit bottoms first, then his underwear.
He hears Erling gasp.
It's cause Jude really came prepared – he opened himself up and plugged himself in the shower, knowing he wouldn't want to bother with any of that now. His plug has a pretty long, round handle, and Erling tugs at it. “I love you so much right now.”
Jude snorts. Then laughs. He's on top of the world. How could this night get any better?
Only if Erling shared in his happiness, completely.
But since he can't, Jude will give him this.
Himself.
Erling takes the plug out and sets in the floor.
The emptiness Jude feels is almost depressing.
He turns around and climbs on Erling's lap again. Right where he belongs. “You're such an idiot,” he says fondly.
“You know, you're not being very nice to me,” Erling pouts again.
Jude kisses his pout away. “I'm sorry, baby. You're right.” He lines himself up to Erling's cock. “I'll show you nice,” he says, and slowly sinks down on it.
Erling feels so good inside him, so big and hard. Jude can't think about how long he'll have to go without him again or he might cry.
“Go on, Judy. Bounce on it,” Erling urges him.
Jude takes a second to adjust, then braces himself on Erling's shoulders and starts moving, slow and deliberate, just to drive his man crazy.
Erling lets him bounce on his cock like it's a dildo, and it's hot and Jude loves it, but he knows it won't last long. Erling starts thrusting up soon enough, and Jude gives in completely, slumps on Erling and lets him pound into him like a ragdoll. “Mmm, you - feel so good,” Jude pants.
Erling stops thrusting, and the whine coming out of Jude is embarrassing. Erling holds his chin in his hand and forces him to look at him. “Yeah?”
Jude nods, eager to have Erling moving inside him again.
Instead, Erling slips out of his hole, and moves Jude off of him. Jude's too aroused and too emotional and he can feel his eyes welling up, but Erling's already grabbing him.
“No – no, baby, hey.” He lets Jude wrap his arms and legs around him and walks to the bed, tossing Jude on it. “You want it deep?” He asks.
What a stupid question.
Jude just stares at him, waiting for his next move.
Erling flips him around like he weighs nothing. He finds a pillow and raises his hips with it, and Jude drools anticipating his cock. Erling seems to be in a funny mood, though, because he starts trailing kisses down his back, instead.
Jude moans and whines in equal measure, happy to be the centre of Erling's attention but desperate to feel his cock back inside him. “Please...”
Erling laughs, his breath tickling Jude's back. He shivers.
Erling trails his hand all over Jude's back, and rubs the area around his hole and his balls. Jude whimpers. “You're so hot, you know?” Erling dips two fingers inside his hole, quick and shallow. He does it again, and again. Jude shivers with need but Erling keeps fondling him, edging him and torturing him with pleasure. Jude's so gone he tries to hump his pillow, but the pillow is too high and there's no friction to gain from it – he pathetically humps the air until Erling slaps his ass, and he moans.
Erling is nothing if not dedicated. He takes turns fingering Jude, only one or two thrusts at a time, then slapping one cheek, then the other. Jude loses track of his babbling and pleading. It's a string of “Please, baby, please, need it, need you, your cock -” interrupted by pants and moans.
Just when he feels like he's about to burst, Erling thrusts in again. Jude shouts in relief, in surprise, in ecstasy, and Erling wraps his arm around his middle and thrusts fast and deep, just how he likes it. He drapes himself all over Jude's back, using his other hand to brace himself on the bed. “You're so good, baby. So hot, Jude.”
“Deeper.” Jude mumbles. “Faster.” There's no deeper and no faster, he already feels like he's about to launch off the bed and into space. Erling always does this to him. Takes him somewhere outside himself, makes him into a body that's there only to take, and take, and become whole.
His eyes sting with tears. Erling senses this and pulls out again, but this time he doesn't hold back. He turns Jude around and folds him in two, rests his forehead on Jude's and thrusts back in.
His pace is unrelenting, and Jude's crying freely now.
Erling nuzzles his tear-stained cheeks with his nose, and Jude comes. Erling gazes into him deeply, slowing his pace. Jude wants to tell him to go fast again but he's lost his voice, and maybe his sanity. “So pretty, Judy,” Erling kisses his brow. “You're made for my cock, aren't you?” Jude whimpers again, feeling full and dazed and overwhelmed. He wraps his arms tight around Erling, and Erling understands he shouldn't expect words from him. His thrusts are so slow, a new wave of tears comes out of Jude. Erling leaves kisses all over his face, and at last, he comes. Jude feels the wetness filling him up, and suddenly he's so tired he wants to lose consciousness in the safety of Erling's arms.
When Erling tries to pull his cock out Jude doesn't let him.
He's always had trouble with that, with letting Erling go.
Since the very first time.
And Erling knows this, and he lets Jude have his way. He carefully lowers Jude's legs from his shoulders and rolls them over so that Jude is the one draped all over Erling's body. Jude sighs, feeling on top of the world. Erling kisses his temple, and they let sleep take them.
*
When Jude wakes up it's 2 am, and he's still on top of Erling. He feels sticky and uncomfortable and too hot. But he won't see Erling for at least a few weeks after tonight, and he can't bear to move away from him just yet. He nuzzles Erling's neck and he stirs awake, tightening his hold around Jude's waist on reflex.
“What time is it?” Erling mumbles
“Late.”
“Shit.”
Jude chuckles. “It's not that late.” He wiggles on top of Erling, tries to get more comfortable. It's futile, and Erling groans underneath him. His soft cock slips out of his hole, and Jude wants to cry a bit.
“What is it?” Erling asks after Jude exhales loudly.
“Don't wanna go.”
“I didn't ask you to go,” Erling says softly.
“You have to get up in 6 hours, it's like 35 degrees, you feel dirty cause you didn't shower after sex, and you've got a whole ass ripped, chiseled man on top of you,” Jude says with a grin.
Erling smiles back at him. “And I still won't ask you to go.”
Jude is cheesing so hard he probably looks like a lovesick idiot. “Man, you've got it bad,” he says solemnly.
“Well,” Erling shrugs underneath him, “You're ripped and chiseled. Not my fault now, is it?”
“Nah,” Jude shakes his head. “You poor thing. I caught you and now you can never get away from me.”
Erling's gaze turns serious. “I really don't want to, though. You know that, right?”
Jude does know. He almost blurts out “come to Madrid” again, which would turn Erling's mood sour. Jude knows Erling can't break his contract, and he also knows being on the same team is not a wise decision, not when they're as popular as they are. Not when the whole world is starting to notice their chemistry and write whole essays about it.
They can't even be properly together, haven't managed it since parting ways all those years ago. They can't live together, and they can't hold hands on the street, and they can't board flights to see each other without a good excuse, and they can't even be left to their own devices regarding their dating lives. They have to have flings, and rumours, and stories leaked to tabloids about the girls they're seeing.
If Jude wants this to last he has to keep working hard, and he has to keep his mouth shut as if nothing's affecting or bothering him. If he wants to bring Erling to Real he has to keep his head down, be professional, be the straight guy everyone expects him to be, and give Erling the time he needs to be free to move clubs.
“Jude? Did you hear what I said?” Erling nudges him, looking worried.
Jude shakes himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry – I heard. Me neither.”
Erling smiles at him, relieved. “You know what,” he says after a bit, “this ripped and chiseled man on top of me could use a shower, mate.”
Jude takes his tongue out, like he's five. He sorta is, around Erling. “Boooooo.”
Erling laughs, open and loud. “You're such a baby.”
“I know,” Jude preens like a cat. “I'm your-”
“Don't say it.”
“Say what?” Jude asks in feigned ignorance.
“It's too cheesy, Jude.”
“Me being your baby is cheesy?” Jude pouts. He's very good at pouting, looks truly disappointed and affronted and wronged. Only his parents are immune to The Pout, and even they slip up sometimes.
Erling sighs. “No. It's not. I'm sorry.” After all these years, he knows which battles are worth fighting. “Come on, I'll carry you.”
Jude gets off of Erling and gets up, pulling Erling with him. “You don't need to do that, I'm not a baby,” he says seriously.
Erling turns him around and pushes him towards the bathroom. “You're literally insufferable.” He slaps his ass, hard.
Jude giggles. “What, are you trying to get me hard again?”
“It doesn't take much to make you hard, Jude.” They get to the shower and Erling turns the water on.
“Are you calling me easy?” he gasps in affront.
“Nah, I just think ripped and chiseled guys should have no problem getting it up, don't you?”
Jude crowds him into the shower. He puts his hands on Erling's cock, which is already hardening. “That's nice,” he says, kissing Erling sensuously. “Then you should have no problem fucking me again?”
Erling grins, enjoying their banter far too much. “No problem at all, baby.”
*
They fuck in the shower and wash up.
Erling will have to eat breakfast with his teammates and then leave, and Jude needs to disguise himself and slip out of this hotel before dawn, to be on the safer side.
They still find it hard to separate. They lie in bed until 5 am, talking about the World Cup, about Erling going home and cheering for Jude from afar, about the new seasons starting soon with their clubs.
Jude's relationship with Erling is the easiest in his life, which makes it the hardest.
Sometimes he wishes it were a mediocre thing, a lukewarm fling that fizzled out after a few months and let him move on with his life. But it's not mediocre and it's not lukewarm and try as he might, he can never find the same comfort or the same passion in anyone else.
Erling can make him laugh the hardest one second, then pin him down and fuck him the next. He can fool around with him and have a good time, and he can talk to him for four hours on the phone even if he has training in the morning.
He's kind of like the perfect person for Jude, and Jude went and found him too early and now he's too far away and too the wrong gender and – it still doesn't change a damn thing. Jude wants Erling, and somehow Erling wants Jude too, and they've kept this thing alive for four years.
*
“Take your stinky plug with you,” Erling gestures towards the floor, fake-disgusted.
“Have some respect, mate. She was the reason you fucked me with no prep!”
“She?! Why is it a she?” Erling raises his eyebrows.
“Do you want it to be a he?” Jude asks. It's too late for this nonsense. Or too early. Or something.
Erling thinks about it, then frowns. “Nah.”
“Awww, it's cute how you're jealous of a butt plug. Should we make a mould of your dick for me?” Jude pinches his cheek playfully.
“Fuck you,” Erling crosses his arms.
“Awww, you want me again? We can't, darling, you really wore me out,” he says in an airy voice.
“Yeah? What happened to your stamina?”
“Yours is simply superior,” Jude shrugs. It's good to stroke your man's ego sometimes. Especially when you speak the truth.
“You're ridiculous,” Erling pulls him into a hug.
“And you love me, so you're worse.”
“No, you're worse.”
“How am I worse?!”
“You can't choose love, but you can choose to not be ridiculous.”
“Now I'm really getting offended, mate.”
Erling laughs and pulls away.
“I'll really miss you.”
“Yeah,” Jude says, a lump in his throat. “Me too.”
“It gets harder each time,” Erling confesses.
Jude exhales, relieved he's not in this alone. “Same.”
“Just hold on a little longer, yeah?”
Jude wonders how many years a little longer means. He shrugs. It doesn't really matter. However many they are, he'll bear them.
*
Jude is in his hotel's corridor when he receives a text.
Erling: YOU LEFT HER HERE?!?!!?
Jude: Oops. Sry
Erling: What am I meant to do with her?
Jude: Wear her. You'll look hot :*
Erling: Fuck you
Jude: How many times do I have to say you wore me out?
Erling: Stop flattering me.
Jude walks into his hotel room. His father is up, waiting for him. He tries to finish the conversation as fast as possible.
Jude: Just the truth.
Erling: I miss you.
Jude: Me too.
Erling: <3
Jude: <33333
“You just left him and you're already texting him?” His dad asks, amused.
“How do you know I'm texting Erling?” Jude asks.
“Your face. If this face is not for Erling then I have to warn him. I like the guy!”
Jude laughs. “Nah, don't worry. It's him.”
“Okay,” his dad nods. “Now go get some sleep. I'll wake you up in a few hours.”
“Thanks, dad.”
“No problem,” his dad shrugs. “I used to slip out to see your mum all the time.”
His dad talking about Erling as the man Jude might marry one day.
Now, that's a thought.
Jude falls asleep the moment his head hits his pillow, a smile on his face.
Somehow, he dreams of raccoons.