Marbella, Day 28
Jamie Tartt was having a good fucking time. Or a fucking good time. There was a lot of fucking and it was good, that was his point. Well, there wasn’t any fucking, if he was being technical about it. Frankly, he was getting off much too often to be technical about it, though.
He felt like he was living one of those romcommunism movies Ted was always talking about. He was a fucking Kate at this rate, and he was loving it. Jamie had all but turned his phone off, using it only to text the boys and Keeley, and had never gone this long without coaches or his father or reporters or anyone getting in his face in his life. They had lie-ins and sometimes Jamie made Roy breakfast in bed—if he could detach from octo-Roy, anyway—and Jamie went for runs while Roy did Roy Things, and then they went to the sea or the pool and read and swam and hung out together for most of the day. They had gone through basically every two-player card game they both knew (Roy was good at poker. Jamie was not) and he had read Roy’s weird bible book (it was fine, he didn’t love it) and Roy made fancy dinners that Jamie had no idea people just cooked casually, and they talked to Keeley or Roy talked to her on his own while Jamie talked to Colin or Rojas or occasionally Isaac, and sometimes they even watched the romcommunism movies, which they both preferred over action things, but usually didn’t get very far before Jamie was straddling Roy on the couch, or on his knees, or…it was nice, was his point. It was very very nice. It was the kind of nice he and Keeley didn’t even get to, because they had both been so busy and he had been so self-absorbed and into being Jamie Tartt and hadn’t cared all that much about being Jamie.
He got to be Jamie with Roy. He kind of had to be, because Roy hadn’t liked Jamie Tartt all that much at first, but he seemed pretty into Jamie. Which made Jamie feel good in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. He liked being someone Roy liked.
They still hadn’t had what Colin kept referring to as The Talk about if they were dating or not, but that was fine. Well, it was mostly fine, as long as Jamie didn’t focus on it too much. If he did, he felt a bit shit. It was just that things were good and he was maybe a bit scared that if he brought it up, Roy might say he didn’t want to date and that not-casual shagging meant literally just that, nothing else, and then Jamie would be—
Well. Fucking heartbroken, maybe.
He didn’t think it would go that way, but you never knew, and he wasn’t about to fuck up this good thing the way he fucked up the last good thing he had going. Because he thought he was great then, and even though he knew now he was actually being a dick, he didn’t know if a year from now he’d look back at asking Roy to be his…whatever…and think the same thing. For ages, he was kicking himself, picturing the quiet moments when it was him and Keeley and they were good, and wishing he could go back and just change everything he did after. And right now, he was lying in bed with Roy and it was quiet and good and he didn’t want to be picturing this for the next however long when he could have been doing it instead if he didn’t fuck up, so he just had to make sure not to—
“Stop thinking so loud,” came a sleepy, grumpy voice. Jamie realised his breathing had sped up. Roy, currently snuggled into his chest—and Roy’s complete lack of personal space at night-time was fucking cute, alright, and Jamie could officially think that now because they were doing…this—cracked open his eyes to glare half-heartedly up at Jamie. That was pretty cute too, actually. “You’re all tense. Alright?”
“Alright, yeah,” Jamie nodded a little jerkily and Roy opened his eyes all the way, shifting so he was lying a little more next to Jamie and a little less on him. Jamie had a split second of concern that he had done something wrong, but Roy turned to face him on the bed and immediately intertwined their legs together, so he figured he was fine.
“Don’t lie. I’m not fucking dumb.” He said, his tone gruff but gentle in a way that made Jamie want to melt. “S’wrong?” Jamie wasn’t sure how to explain it.
“I just don’t want to fuck this up, d’you know what I mean?” he opted for at last, looking away from Roy, ears burning.
A warm hand wrapped around his chin and tilted his face back toward Roy’s. The other man’s gaze was steady and warm, and Jamie felt his chest loosen. He felt like nothing in the world could hurt him when Roy looked at him like that.
“You’re not fucking this up,” he said, his voice so full of affection that Jamie melted further. “You’re fucking spectacular, actually,” Roy added. Jamie wasn’t sure what his face did—did he make a noise at that?—but whatever it was, Roy liked it very much, because Jamie found himself being kissed pretty thoroughly, and he had no space for worrying at all when Roy was moving his tongue like that.
“C’mon,” Roy said finally, pulling back. They were both breathing heavily and Jamie was sure his pupils were blown as wide as Roy’s. Fuck, he liked him so much. “You need to go for your run, and I’ll do a proper breakfast while you do.” He drew back and got up from the bed.
“Trying to keep me in shape, Coach?” Jamie teased as he followed suit.
“What did I say about calling me that when we’re like this?” Roy growled, getting very close to him again. Jamie paused for a long moment, pretending to deliberate.
“That I should do it as often as possible, because it turns you on?” Jamie smirked at him.
“You little shit,” Roy manhandled him back into the bed, thoroughly proving Jamie’s point.
It wasn’t until he did finally get to his run—and he didn’t love running, precisely because he didn’t love being alone with his thoughts and that was like, half of the point to running—that the overthinking and nervousness began to rear its head again. He tried to focus on the steady pounding of his feet on the pavement, the physicality of it, but he couldn’t quite clear his mind. It just kept eating at him—Roy said he was spectacular, but everyone had always said that with caveat or a qualifier. He was great, sure, but only at football. He was sexy, but not quite sexy enough to make up for his (admittedly horrible at the time) personality. What if he meant he was spectacular in bed (duh) and at hanging out in Marbella, but not for romantic serious conversation type things? He didn’t want the romcommunism montage to end and be left falling in love with Roy Kent and already in love with Keeley Jones and both of them in love with each other and not with—
Oh no. That was a big word. That was way too big a word for this freak out.
He got back to the house in a worse mood than he left it and could only partly smile at Roy, who followed him into the bathroom.
“I made breakfast, if you want it before your shower,” he said. Jamie just shrugged, which seemed to alarm Roy. “Or we could shower together.”
“I’ll just shower alone,” Jamie said. “I’ll be out in a bit, yeah?” He hated showering alone, but he was freaking out a little bit and having Roy naked and pressed against him wasn’t going to help.
Roy looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to think better of it and left Jamie standing in the en-suite, alone. As requested.
He was sitting at the too-large table when Jamie came out, dressed and towelling his hair dry, two plates of food on the table. Jamie sat across from him and lifted his fork to begin eating. Roy opened his mouth and closed it again.
“Are you pissed off at me?” Roy said finally. Jamie started, almost choking on his mouthful of scrambled eggs. He took a few quick sips of water to clear his throat, coughing.
“What are you talking about?” he said, finally. Roy was looking at him with a vague expression of alarm on his face. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t fucking know, you showered alone! You fucking hate showering alone.” Jamie peered closely at Roy, who looked…huh. Worried.
“Roy, I was just having some thoughts and needed a minute, do y’know what I mean?” Jamie said, slowly. Roy’s shoulders dropped slightly, some tension releasing. “I promise we can shower together tomorrow, yeah?”
“About what?” Roy pressed. Jamie sighed—this was as good of an opening as he was going to get.
“What is this?” He gestured between them. “With you and me? Or you and me and Keeley, I guess.”
“What do you mean?” Roy seemed a bit taken aback, like he didn’t expect the conversation to go in this direction. He wasn’t being particularly grumpy, at least, so it didn’t seem like Jamie had fucked up yet.
“Look, it’s like…I don’t know what you want from me. I mean, I know you’ve got feeling or whatever, I know you want me, and I know you want me to understand it’s serious and not just something casual, and I know you want to be very sure I consent to everything—which I have done, obviously—but like, I don’t know what else that means. And I don’t want to fuck it up by thinking it’s something that it’s not but I also don’t want to fuck it up by asking you too early or anything,” Jamie finally got out, so quickly some of the words ran into each other, twisting his hands together. Roy blinked at him several times, seemingly processing. “Sorry.”
“Don’t fucking apologize,” Roy said, quickly. “Thinking.”
Jamie waited. Roy took ages to think, he had noticed, it was very strange. It was like he had to translate everything Jamie said into old-man-language and then translate it back. Or something. At least he knew now it wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. Roy just didn’t really say things he didn’t mean. Well, except for calling Jamie a prick all the time, but Jamie knew that was more a pet name at this point.
“You don’t know what I want from you?” he said finally. What was all that thinking for, if he was just going to repeat Jamie’s own words back to him? Was Jamie going to have to spell it out for him? Probably.
“I don’t, like, if you want a relationship or to casually date or whatever? Or something…else, I don’t know. I’m asking you, aren’t I, cause I don’t know,” he said, hands twisting even more as he said the word relationship. He didn’t know what he was thinking—he was Jamie Tartt. He was fine for a shag, or a whole six weeks of shagging, and fine for a threesome or whatever, but not long-term. Not in a real way. He shouldn’t have even asked. He stared at the floor, not wanting to meet Roy’s eyes when he inevitably let him down easy.
“Jamie.” Roy’s voice was calm, the same warm tone in it that Jamie was beginning to associate with sun-streaked mornings and rare, irony-free smiles. He heard shifting. Fuck, this was going to hurt as much as Keeley had. Maybe more, because he hadn’t let himself care then. “Hey, Jamie, look at me.” Jamie didn’t lift his eyes, but Roy crouched down into his sight line—that must kill his knee—and wrapped his hands around Jamie’s own. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear. I fucking like you. I want a relationship with you.”
“Really?” Jamie hated how small his voice sounded when he got emotional. He had hoped but still…the doubt had overwhelmed him. He still couldn’t quite meet Roy’s eyes. “You want to like…be my boyfriend, or something?”
Roy scoffed, but when Jamie looked at him, his eyes were still warm. “I’m not a fucking child,” he said. Right. That made sense, but Jamie couldn’t help but feel a bit let down. It would’ve been cool to be Roy Kent’s boyfriend. Apparently, Roy could tell, though, because he let out a long-suffering sigh, which was undercut by the way he squeezed Jamie’s hand. “Yes, I want to be your fucking boyfriend.”
“What about Keeley?” Jamie asked, pushing as much as he could, because he wasn’t sure he’d have the nerve to do it again. Keeley had used the word relationship, but still. Ted was always saying something about assuming. Also…“What if she gets sick of dating me again? I was pretty annoying last time, I think.”
Roy laughed slightly. “I think she’s over that,” he said. Fair enough. “But you need to talk to Keeley about you and Keeley. No matter what she says, I’ve talked to her about me dating you. You and I are dating outside of Keeley and I and outside of you and Keeley.”
“It’d be nice if it was all three of us, though,” Jamie pointed out. “It’s nice when it is all three of us talking, anyway.”
“Yeah, it is” Roy agreed. Jamie finally met his eyes. Fuck, he was into him. “So. You get it now, right? We’re in a relationship. With all the shit that means.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jamie agreed, all fake bravado to try to hide just how nervous he had been. From the look Roy gave him though, he wasn’t buying it. “Boyfriends, or whatever. Do boyfriends have sex? Because you’re basically on your knees already.”
“You’re so fucking horny all the time,” Roy said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, then. Let’s go to the room.”
Roy got up stiffly and pulled Jamie to his feet with him. Jamie followed him to the bedroom, not sure why they weren’t just going for it there—he had blown Roy in almost every room of the house at this point, after all. Roy tossed a pillow from the bed and lube onto the floor, which confused Jamie, but he wasn’t going to question it too much, not with Roy kissing him the way he was, mouthing down his neck, the scape of his beard just right. Roy tossed his shirt aside before pulling off Jamie’s, continuing kissing downward until he was actually kneeling on the pillow, pushing Jamie’s shorts down.
“Fu-u-uck,” Jamie groaned, voice shaking as Roy took him into his mouth. Jamie had never sucked a dick before Roy’s but Roy had and it fucking showed—he was too good at it, he was going to kill Jamie. Roy pulled off him for a second and looked up, his hair messy where Jamie had grabbed onto it.
“Is it okay if I prep you?” Roy asked. It took Jamie a second for the dots to connect and then he nodded, so enthusiastically he swore he could hear the brain cells that Roy hadn’t killed off entirely rattling around. Roy reached for the lube looked at him for a moment longer and then—“you can fuck my face, you know. Boyfriend privileges.”
Clearly Roy could tell what that did to Jamie because he went right back to sucking Jamie’s dick and Jamie’s hips snapped forward as Roy circled his hole with one finger, not quite pushing in yet. They had done this before, but never with the word “prep” involved. Jamie let out a strangled moan as Roy chuckled around his cock, the vibrations making his toes curl.
Time got a little hazy there, a mix of incredible sensation and slick fingers pushing inside Jamie, and his legs trembling as Roy hit just right until—
“Roy. Roy, babe,” Jamie panted out. “I’m going to come.” Roy pulled away again, letting out a small noise at the endearment.
“Can’t have that,” he said, his voice raspier from—fuck—from sucking Jamie’s cock, and that was so hot he may never have to watch porn again, and they’d done this before too, but this was the first time it was foreplay instead of the main event, and it was the first time without the lingering fear that this would go away suddenly, but it wouldn’t because Roy was his boyfriend now and fuck, Jamie was being pulled to the bed, almost thrown and he was so alright with this. “On your back okay?”
“Yeah,” Jamie agreed, breathy, lifting his hips up to let Roy put the pillow that had previously been on the floor under his hips with more ease.
“Good boy,” Roy murmured in approval, stroking his hand down Jamie’s thigh, and there was no way he missed the full-body shiver that caused. Jamie moaned, head thrown back, and Roy mouthed at his throat. “Fuck, you’re so good.” Oh, Jamie was going to die. This was too good and Roy wasn’t even fucking him yet.
Keeley had fucked him before, with a pink strap-on. He thought he knew what it was like to be fucked. Roy pushing into him, all hot and fucking huge, though, was a completely different experience.
“Fuck, Jamie,” Roy moaned. Jamie felt insane, his mouth swollen and throbbing from where Roy’s teeth had scraped kissing him, his body stretched and clenching around Roy. He felt like he was pulled thin, every part of him surrounded by Roy—every-fucking-where, Roy Kent. He let out a bit of breathless laughter as Roy began to thrust.
Then Roy changed the angle of his hips and thrust into him again, hitting him perfectly, and Jamie wasn’t thinking anything at all, he was just babbling something incoherent, the entire world narrowed down to him and Roy and Roy’s fucking cock, and Roy’s beard was scraping against him as he sucked another mark into his neck and Jamie was fucking done for, moaning as he came, Roy following him over the edge.
“Fuck,” he panted, coming back to himself some time later. Roy made a muffled noise in assent and then leaned over, kissing him softly, edge all gone but affection remaining. Jamie wanted to curl up close to him forever. “Not bad for an old man.”
“Shut up, you prick,” Roy nuzzled into him, clearly already slipping into unconsciousness with the way he was wrapping his limbs around Jamie. What a ridiculous man, falling asleep less than two hours after waking up, just because of mind-blowing sex. He wasn’t really complaining though—Roy cuddling him like this was nice. God, he was clingy. Jamie fucking loved it.
“Sleep well, babe,” Jamie pressed a kiss to Roy’s forehead, taking in a deep breath. He was so gone, it was ridiculous.