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They've hooked up all of three times— just exchanging blowies the first two, and then actually fucking-fucking last night— when Roy sits him down over breakfast and tells him that he's got a thing for really fucking rough, kinky sex.
"Not that I'm, like, fucking asking you to be into it too, or something, but in case you are, I wanted to say it now." Roy sets a plate of eggs and toast in front of Jamie. "I thought maybe— it seemed a bit like you were, last night. You liked when I held you down a little."
Jamie rubs his eyes.
"Mate, I've not even had a coffee yet."
Roy goes a bit pink in the cheeks.
"Fuck, sorry. I'm being fucking weird. I'll shut up. Forget I fucking said anything."
"No, no— this is good, right? We should chat about this. Just— Jesus. I can still fucking feel you in my rear from last night. I need a mo' to wake up a little more."
It's absurdly early, as per usual for them, and while Jamie's long adjusted to Roy's insane morning-person schedule, it still takes him a bit to completely wake up... especially when he had his brains completely fucked out of him, not ten hours ago.
Roy silently leaves the room, and the coffee-maker whirs to life in the kitchen.
"Thank you," Jamie calls.
(If he's going to be spending more mornings at Roy's, he'll have to pick up an espresso machine for the kitchen, won't he. He likes his Americanos in the morning.)
Several minutes later, Roy comes back with a coffee and a tea to set beside their respective breakfasts. He still doesn't say anything.
Once he's had a few bites, and he's feeling a bit more caffeinated, Jamie offers:
"Keeley put me on a leash, once."
Roy sputters, choking on a bite of egg.
"What?"
Jamie shrugs.
"You just said you like kinky shit." He puts his hands up, to show his innocence. "She used to pretend I were, like, her weird, sexy dog. She'd call me her good boy, it was mint."
Roy blinks at him.
"Keeley pretended you were a dog."
Janie nods. Shovels some more eggs into his mouth.
"Yeah. She'd tell me to find the treat, and the treat was her clit, so I'd go down on her, like, and there was one time she nabbed a collar and a leash from one of her friends with a dog, and put it on me for a laugh. I loved it."
Roy still looks a bit like he's having a stroke or something.
"That's kinky, right?" Jamie continues. "Or is that not what you were going for?"
"I—" Roy cuts himself off. "I was more thinking, like, choking, and being rough with you and shit. But that's fucking fun, too— the dog thing. If you like that."
Jamie shrugs.
"It was fun. But yeah, you can choke me, too. I don't mind. Might be weird if we were doing the dog thing, though... choking a dog just feels wrong, don't it. We'd have to keep it separate, I reckon."
Roy looks pained.
"Yeah. No, I'm not choking a fucking dog... even if the dog is you. This is fucking weird." He pauses, shakes his head. "Keeley was really telling you what to do in bed? Dominatrix style?"
"Well, there were no, like, leather and whips and chains and shit," Jamie replies, "but she liked pushing me around a bit. Maybe a cheeky spanking, here and there. Why? What was you two doing, then?"
Roy sips his tea. Makes a face like he can't believe they're really talking about this.
"Fucking normal stuff. Great sex, but proper fucking vanilla shit, her and I."
Jamie feels himself pull a face, without really meaning to.
"Vanilla sex? Like, with scented candles or summat? Or flavoured vodka? Or, like, that angin' brown shit what goes in biscuits, then?"
Roy makes a face right back.
"You— what? You think vanilla is gross?"
Jamie scoffs.
"Have you ever sipped it? Dead nasty stuff."
"It’s not for fucking sipping, you little— you know what? Whatever. Vanilla sex is when there's nothing fucking kinky about it. Her biggest kink was watching my fucking retirement presser while I ate her out." He stops himself and goes bright red. "Forget I fucking said that."
Jamie's mouth has dropped open.
"Fucking hell— that video of you crying in front of everyone?"
"Tartt."
"You know, I cried the first time I watched it. Was already having a shit go of things, up in Manchester, and then it comes out that you're not playing anymore, and it was tackling me that took out your knee, right, and I felt awful. I nearly texted you."
"Well, why the fuck didn't you?"
Jamie rolls his eyes.
"What, you would've wanted to hear from me? You told me you were out to get me. Next thing I know, you're on the telly, wishing me dead, mate."
Roy nods. Laughs a little.
"Yeah, fair. I did do that."
Jamie flips him off.
"Whatever. You can choke me if you want, lad. Have at it. I'm down for anything, but you gotta get into my kinks, too, and let me blow you under your desk sometime."
Roy nearly spits his tea.
"What, at work? Are you fucking mad?"
"Yeah. Wouldn't that be sexy? I could be all like— Coach, please, I'll do anything for more minutes. You gotta put me in, I promise I'll do you anything you want. And you can go, like: Anything? Why don't you show me what a tart you really are, Tartt? And then you can push me down, 'cos you like being rough and all, and I'd suck you off, and then we can have a laugh, since I'd never actually need to beg for minutes 'cos I'm the best, and—" He cuts himself off. "Oi, earth to Roy. Are you following?"
Roy looks a bit like he's just shat himself.
"God, Jamie." He drops his head in his hands. "I'm your coach."
Jamie blinks. Sips his coffee.
"Uh, yeah. Are we... just realizing this now?"
Roy's not listening.
"I'm fucking my star player," he breathes. "This is fucking illegal. Fucking hell, I'm fifteen years older than you— I should be put on a fucking watch list. I'm manipulating you, I should be fucking arrested. I don't—"
"You think I'm a star?" Jamie interrupts. "I'm flattered, mate."
Roy glares up at him.
"Mate? Do you call everyone who's been balls-deep in your arse mate?"
Jamie thinks on it for a moment— he's really only ever had other allegedly-straight footballers who wanted to keep it on the low up his arse, so that might actually be right.
"Yeah, I reckon so," he offers. "What should I call you, then? Daddy?"
Roy blinks.
"Why is that your next step?"
"Well, you just was going on about how much older you are— I figured maybe that's a kink for you, too."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Roy groans. "Finish your fucking breakfast. We should get going soon."
"Going where? It's five in the morning, lad."
"Literally fucking anywhere but here. I need this conversation to be over."
"The drama with you. Fucking hell." Jamie eats some more eggs. "If it helps, you’re not the oldest person I’ve slept with."
"Why would that help?"
"Dunno." Jamie shrugs. "I had sex with one of the Lust Conquers All producers, who was right fit. It was her fifty-sixth birthday. Proper experienced, like."
"Jesus."
"She wanted me to suck her toes, which was a bit mental. I weren’t really down with that bit— not into feet, am I. But I did let her step on me, and it cracked my back proper."
Roy blinks at him.
"Sometimes I wonder if you were dropped on your head as an infant."
"I weren’t," Jamie huffs. "But the day I were born, my mum went to take a picture of me and dropped her camera on my face." He pushes his hair back and rubs his forehead. "You can still feel the dent, right here."
"Right," Roy says. "I’m gonna go have a fucking shower. Finish your breakfast."
"You’ve hardly even eaten!"
Roy’s already headed up the stairs.
"Fuck you!"
Jamie shakes his head, bewildered.
"Fucking weirdo, man," he huffs, talking to himself. "I don’t get it."
-
"So, are you gonna choke me tonight?"
Roy turns to look at him, making a face like: are you actually fucking kidding me right now?
"Can you at least wait until we’re in the fucking car? Jesus Christ."
Jamie shrugs.
"Not like there’s anyone around, mate." He gestures to the empty car park, nearly two hours after the end of training. "We’re the last ones leaving."
"Stop calling me mate when we’re talking about sex."
"Sorry, Daddy."
"Tartt."
(That was only partially an annoyed growl, Jamie decides. The other half of it was horny. This Daddy thing is gonna work eventually.)
"Can I drive?" he asks, as they get closer to Roy’s vehicle.
"Fuck no."
"Why not?"
"Because, fuck no."
"I’m a perfect driver. You’ve seen the Aston. She’s not got a scratch on her."
"Don’t care."
Roy gets in the driver’s seat, and Jamie huffs, annoyed.
"You never let me do anything fun."
He throws himself into the passenger seat, and Roy rolls his eyes.
"Do you want your dick sucked tonight, or not? Stop complaining."
"You’re so fucking annoying."
"You’re such a fucking brat."
"What, are you gonna spank me, or something?"
Roy’s eyes go dark, and he’s quiet for a beat too long.
There it is.
"Maybe," he eventually grunts. "If you give me a fucking reason to."
Jamie thinks on that for a moment, and then puts his feet up on the dash, rolls the window down, and turns the radio up. In his peripheral, Roy looks like he’s either going to burst into flames, or nut in his jeans. Possibly both.
"I know what you’re doing," Roy says.
Jamie smirks, sipping from his water bottle.
"Ain’t doing nothing."
Roy turns the radio back down.
"What’s your safe word?"
Jamie chokes on his water.
"Why the fuck do you need it now?"
Roy keeps his eyes on the road, unfazed.
"I don’t. I need it later."
"Fucking hell."
"That can’t be it. You say that too often."
"That’s not— Roy. You’re so fucking weird. Let me think on it for a mo."
"Mine is Tottenham."
"Why?"
"Because if I’m talking about those pricks while I’m fucking, something’s gone terribly wrong."
"Yeah, fair play."
Jamie thinks about it for a bit, because he’s never really had one— with Keeley, they never really chatted about whatever kinky shit she wanted to try, but she would’ve stopped anything if he just said stop.
(He doesn’t really think Roy would. Not in, like, a bad way, but in a I’m going to push you past your limits because I know you can take it sort of way. A safe word would probably be good to have.)
"Lasso," Jamie settles on. "That’s the last word I wanna hear during sex."
Roy snorts.
"That’ll fucking do, yeah."
"So, what do you need it for?"
"Not telling."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because you’re being a fucking brat."
"You like it, though."
Roy simply grunts, and Jamie grins to himself. It’s nice to be right.
-
"We don’t start counting ‘til it hurts, Tartt."
Jamie groans as Roy’s palm lands on his ass again, hard.
(He’s lying across Roy’s lap, pants shoved down, taking the fucking spanking he managed to earn himself by being an annoying little shit for the whole drive home. Apparently Roy was fucking serious. It’s great.)
"It does hurt," Jamie huffs. He’s fresh out of the shower, his hair is still wet, and he hadn’t exactly mentally prepared for this. "Fuck."
Roy smacks him two more times, before stopping briefly to rub the hot skin.
"You like this, don’t you?" he teases, as if he can’t plainly feel Jamie getting hard against his thigh. He pinches Jamie’s bum. "I knew you would."
"Roy," Jamie groans, hiding his head in his arms. There’s tears starting to spring to his eyes, instinctive from the sharp pain, and it’s embarrassing. "Please, just keep going."
Roy grabs his hair and pulls his head up.
"No hiding."
And then he starts spanking again, and after about three hits, to his own horror, Jamie actually starts to fucking cry.
"Ow," he moans, his voice breaking slightly. "Please, I’m sorry."
He doesn’t have to look up to know Roy is grinning.
"Sorry for what?"
Jamie sniffles.
"Being a fucking brat, in the car. I were trying to piss you off on purpose."
"Because you wanted me to do this?"
"Yes. I— I didn’t know if you really would."
Roy laughs softly.
"Well, now you fucking know, don’t you?"
Jamie tries to laugh, too, but mostly just whines, because Roy smacks his bum even harder.
"That’s one," Roy says. "We’ll do ten. Count them out loud."
And then he just keeps going, and Jamie stutters embarrassingly over the numbers, all the way to ten. He’s, like, really properly crying by the end of it, and his arse is on fucking fire, and he hadn’t known he’d fucking like this so much. Roy hits way harder than Keeley ever did.
"You did so well," Roy is saying, and Jamie feels a bit like he’s floating. "Such a good boy."
"Fuck," Jamie groans. He rubs his hips against Roy’s thigh. "Say that again."
Roy snorts.
"What, call you my good boy?"
"Yes, you fucking dickhead," Jamie huffs. He rolls his hips again, and cuts off a moan. "I wanna— shit. I wanna be good for you."
"You’re being very good, Tartt," Roy chuckles. "Took your spanking so well. You gonna remember to fucking behave yourself, now?"
And Jamie has the sudden revelation that it’s time to go in for the kill. He drops his head to hide his grin, and says:
"Yes, Daddy."
He peeks up when Roy has been suspiciously silent for a second, to see pink-tinged cheeks and an expression rather like Jamie’s just walked in on him wanking.
Yes.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Jamie," he grumbles, clearly trying to play it off like he’s not just had his world rocked, but failing spectacularly. "Enough with that."
"I knew you were into it," Jamie beams. He rolls off of Roy’s lap and onto the bed, successfully de-sexying the moment, but too chuffed with himself to care. He’s got his shorts around his ankles, tears in his eyes, and his hard cock out, but all he can do is laugh. "You’re a dirty old man deep down, Royo! Fucking a twenty-five year-old, being all fucking Daddy about it— god, it’s fucking hot. I love it. Do you love it? Because I can tell you do."
"I love when you shut your fucking mouth and leave me alone," Roy growls. "You really can’t just give things up, can you?"
Jamie grins.
"My mum always says I’m annoyingly determined to get my way."
"And your way is calling me Daddy?"
"If you actually don’t like it, I’ll stop," Jamie sighs, "but I saw that fucking face you just made. You almost nutted in your fucking jeans, ain’t you? You like it."
Roy lets out this long, deep growl that makes Jamie’s dick give a little jump.
"I’ve never liked it… before," he says, his tone all careful and measured, "but… it’s fucking different when you say it."
"Yes!" Jamie crows. "You’re fucking obsessed with me. I knew it."
Roy grabs him firmly by the thigh.
"I’ll put you back over my fucking knee if you don’t shut the fuck up, Tartt."
Jamie holds for dramatic effect, then pokes his tongue out and replies:
"Sorry, Daddy."
-
Roy gives him another five strikes on the bum, and Jamie stifles his giggles the whole time.
"Are you gonna listen to Daddy, now?" Roy growls in his ear.
"Yes," Jamie grins. The satisfaction of being right is going straight to his cock, and it’s awesome. "Gonna be so good for you, Daddy."
"Good," Roy says. He grabs Jamie by the hips, flips him onto his back, and gets right on top of him, mouth hovering over his dick. "Gonna make you feel so good, love. Just keep your hands to yourself, alright?"
Jamie— a bit stunned by the fact that Roy just practically threw him— gapes awkwardly for a moment, before managing a nod.
"Yeah. I mean— yes, Daddy. I can— yeah. I won’t touch."
And then Roy’s taking him deep into his mouth, like he’s not even got a fucking gag reflex, and Jamie’s lucky he doesn’t fucking shoot off right there and then.
"Oh my god," he gasps. He curls his fingers in the sheets to fight the urge to tangle them in Roy’s hair. "Roy."
Roy is fucking relentless, swallowing him down, and massaging his burning arse with both hands. It’s fucking insane. Jamie’s rather sure he might die from pleasure right now— it’ll have to go on his tombstone: soul sucked out through his cock.
"Please," he breathes. "I’m close already. Holy fuck. Daddy. That’s so good."
And it doesn’t take long, like, until he’s bucking his hips up and cumming into Roy’s mouth, his vision going all starry and white. When he can finally see properly again, Roy is up by his face, leaning in to kiss him, with a little bead of white at the corner of his lips— it’s a fucking sight if Jamie’s ever seen one.
"Such a good boy, cumming for Daddy," Roy grins, practically talking against his mouth. "Did you like that, baby?"
"Obviously," Jamie mumbles between kisses. "Your turn, then?"
Roy— because he might like being in charge, but he’s secretly a bit of a masochist in his own right— simply shakes his head.
"I can wait. I’ve got plans for you after dinner." He runs a hand through Jamie’s hair. "Have a kip, and I’ll go cook."
Jamie hadn’t realized he was tired, like, but a nap sounds fucking amazing right now. Roy knows him too well.
"Mm, yes Daddy," he hums into Roy’s lips. "Thank you."
He’s out like a light in no time, and rather enjoys falling asleep to Roy’s hand in his hair.
-
He’s being fucked into the mattress, some hours later, after a lovely meal, with a heavy hand around his throat and instructions not to cum without permission.
It’s so good.
"You take it like such a fucking slut," Roy’s growling in his ear, while slamming his cock deep inside him. "Is that what you are, baby?"
"Yes, Daddy," Jamie moans, surprising himself with how breathy his voice comes out. Roy’s not squeezing hard on his neck, but enough to have him ever-so slightly lightheaded. "Your slut. Fucking love your cock."
Roy hits his prostate dead-on, and Jamie nearly fucking faints. He’s not sure the sound that’s punched out of him is even human.
"You like that?" Roy chuckles, aiming for the spot again. It’s this thing he does with his hips— Jamie can understand why the tabloids said he had a curve in his dick. "Taking it so well for me, baby."
"Fuck," Jamie groans. "Please, Daddy."
He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. It’s mental what one man’s magical cock can do to a lad, innit.
"Such a good boy," Roy grunts, his grip on Jamie’s throat getting tighter. His other hand finally moves from Jamie’s hip to his dripping erection. "So close. You can cum as soon as I do. Gonna fill you up, baby. Fuck."
Jamie might explode, or, like, die, or something.
"Please," he moans again, but he can hardly get the word out past the pressure on his neck. "Daddy."
And he’s pretty sure his brain turns off for a bit, until he can feel Roy cumming right into him— bare, this time, because they established over dinner that they’re both fucking losers who haven’t had sex with anyone else in ages, so they know they’re clean— and he’s choking out some garbled nonsense as his own orgasm hits him in full force. He’s seeing stars, like, and he might actually fucking pass out for a moment.
He comes back to his body when he feels Roy carefully pulling out of him— the sticky, wet feeling between his thighs is a new one, but certainly not an offensive one. He quite likes it, in fact.
"There you are," Roy’s saying, when Jamie blinks up at him. He’s grinning. "Jesus, thought I’d fucked you to death."
"It was good," Jamie manages, his head feeling a bit floaty. "Really good."
"I thought so," Roy chuckles. He pauses, though. "It wasn’t too much? I should’ve checked in more, when I was squeezing your fucking throat and all."
Jamie shrugs. He’s still facedown on the bed, too spent to move.
"Ain’t used my safe word, did I? I liked it."
Roy shifts their bodies so that Jamie’s halfway on top of him, apparently not too worried about getting cleaned up just yet. He goes in for a lazy, messy kiss, and Jamie happily indulges it.
"Not to stroke your fucking ego," Roy says, after a bit, "but you’re fucking amazing."
"Can stroke me any way you want, Daddy," Jamie mumbles, his brain still not entirely present.
Roy flicks his ear.
"I’m trying to be nice, you fucking twat, and tell you how much I like you."
"Oh. Alright. Go on, then."
Roy sighs, but it’s a rather fond noise, in Jamie’s opinion.
"You’re amazing, and I like that we’re fucking, like, compatible, and I like spending time with you, and this is really nice," he says. "That’s all."
Jamie hums contently against Roy’s neck.
"Agreed." He runs his fingers through Roy’s chest hair. "D’you reckon we should be boyfriends, then? If we like fucking each other, and that, and we’re not seeing anyone else anyways?"
Maybe that’s a bit too upfront, but he doesn’t think Roy will mind.
"What a fucking romantic you are," Roy laughs. He rubs his thumb along Jamie’s bare hip. "Fucking hell. Sure."
Jamie grins to himself, then presses a gentle kiss to Roy’s neck.
"Nice."
It’s quiet for a bit, then Roy starts to move.
"Right, we should shower."
Jamie whines, not ready to get up just yet. He does feel fucking minging, all sweaty and sticky, but he’s too wrung-out to care.
"I bet I can get you off with just my fingers, in there," Roy continues. "You can cum one more time for me, I reckon."
That’s a bit more enticing, innit.
"‘Course I can," Jamie says, and he finally bothers to sit up. "Would love to, babe."
Roy rolls his eyes, looking all lovely and fond, standing beside the bed in all his naked, hairy glory.
"Fucking twenty-five year-olds and your fucking stamina," he grumbles. He takes Jamie’s hand. "C’mon, then."
And Roy washes his hair for him, kisses him all sweetly, and then shoves him up against the wall of the shower to finger-fuck him until he’s shouting and painting the tiles with his cum. When Jamie goes a bit boneless in the wake of it, Roy holds him up, finishes cleaning him, and then gets him all wrapped up in a towel like a proper fucking gentleman should.
It’s mint.
-
He’s in a t-shirt and boxers, eating a bowl of protein-enhanced cereal on Roy’s couch, and he couldn’t be happier.
"Do you have physio tomorrow?" Roy asks, from the kitchen.
"Yeah, at eight," Jamie replies.
"Jesus, why so early?"
Roy comes into the living room, finally done whatever tidying he was doing.
"Because I’ve gotta see Dr. Stewart at nine, and it’s the only day he’s in this week, so I couldn’t reschedule. He wants to check in about my ADHD pill."
Jamie leans into Roy’s side, when Roy joins him on the couch. Roy pets his hair.
"How’s that going, then?"
"Good, yeah." Jamie shrugs. "It’s just a bit higher dose than before, and I reckon it’s helping— I think I lost a bit of weight, though, on it. We’ll see what he thinks. Might need to see the dieticians, up my calories."
"I’m glad it’s helping," Roy says. "You do seem a bit thin. Not by much, just— your abs are showing more."
Jamie sticks his tongue out.
"It’s a treat for you, Daddy."
Roy snorts.
"Oh, shut up."
Jamie quickly kisses him to stop him going into some fucking rant about how the sexiest body is one that’s healthy and in top form, and that visible abs are just fucking vanity muscles, and all the things he likes to preach when they’re training.
He’s sat here, kissing his boyfriend, Jamie realizes.
That’s really fucking nice.