Obligatory Warning: Do not read if you are likely to be offended by description of gay sex, or if it is illegal for you to do so.
This story is purely fictional and does not imply anything about the sexual orientation of the English football (soccer) players depicted. ---------------------------------------------------------------------
HOME by Opengoal (opengoal@excite.com)
England vs Paraguay, 2002
The plane was landing in England. Roque Santa Cruz patted the back of Owen Hargreaves' head, "You don't look like you're flying home to play for your country."
"Don't - " Owen fought off Roque's hand. He was as surprised as Roque at his outburst. "Sorry, I overreacted. I - I'm really thrilled to play for England, you know."
Roque just smiled, as though Owen was missing the point.
Into the couple of days of training, Owen kept telling himself that his roots were there no matter what, that his heart was there and that's what counted.
But there was always something there to remind him... that, just maybe, he didn't not belong.
Like when his teammates faked his accent when he was still within hearing range. And he didn't really want to care about their whispering and funny stares when they thought he wasn't looking.
These two days, he'd spent almost as much time talking to Roque on the phone as he talked with his England teammates. He knew it wasn't right but still when he was sleepless in bed, he couldn't help phoning Roque. Roque said he was trying to gain an unfair advantage by depriving him of sleep. Maybe he was. He didn't know. He just made sure that no one knew he was talking to Roque.
St. George's flying everywhere, brass band playing God Save The Queen.
The press had been going on about Eriksson not knowing the words to the national anthem. Owen knew every single word. But surrounded by the sea of St. George's all over the ground, he suddenly felt the words caught in his throat, the heat of the crowd cold to his skin.
The match started before he slid deeper into negative thinking, which he had been well trained by the Germans to avoid. To all intents and purposes, he slotted into the team seamlessly. At least he appeared to be, to everyone that mattered.
Fact was, playing against Paraguay was a walk in the park. Roque was their only threat. The game was so easy that he actually had time to steal glances at Roque from time to time.
It felt kind of funny playing against the latin boy whom he'd come to see as a brother. Although they were now technically opponents, he longed to hear Roque's accented German more than anything else.
The frustration on Roque's face weighed heavily on Owen's heart. He was sure Paraguay didn't always played this bad. They just chose not to perform today.
His feet brought him to Roque as soon as the final whistle went. He wanted to take Roque into his arms to make him feel better.
But they just talked, well bellowed out their criticism, about everything that had gone wrong, from the players, the tactics, to the organisation. They talked as though they were teammates, which they were again now. It was strange, he knew. But it felt strangely right. It felt natural.
They dragged their feet as though they had so much to talk about that they didn't want to reach the dressing rooms. But still they got there in the end.
They stood before the doors, suddenly lost for words. Journalists, officials and other players passed them by. Their silence was becoming conspicuous.
Roque let out a nervous laugh. At least one of them saw the funny side of it. All Owen saw was Roque's coy "Princess Di" smile.
Slightly confused by Owen's motionlessness, Roque thought it best they say goodbye. He gave Owen a goodbye hug. "See you at the airport."
They should've kissed goodbye and parted, but somehow they just froze. The heat of their bodies was the only thing Owen was aware of when the words suddenly stumbled out of his mouth, "I'll come to your hotel tonight... is that okay?"
Owen didn't know what answer he was hoping for when he said that. He wasn't even sure he really wanted what he was trying to suggest. He was half hoping Roque would help him decide that.
He heart sank as he felt Roque freeze. He waited for an answer but Roque didn't speak. The thudding of his heart was the only sound Owen could hear. He studied the floor, too scared to look at Roque's face. He was sure the axe would fall, but Roque just patted his back and left.
They only saw each other again on the plane.
Owen had waited 'til the last minute to get on the plane, just to avoid meeting Roque at the waiting lounge.
Walking along the aisle, Owen wished he could just lock his eyes onto the floor. But what good would it do when his seat was right next to Roque's anyway?
He couldn't remember being nervous like that since his first trial with Bayern. But that couldn't really compare with the consequences of last night if the worst comes to worst.
He chanced a glance at his seat and what did he see but Roque beckoning him with a bright, heartfelt smile.
It looked as though nothing had happened the night before, which - come to think of - was regretfully the case.
He had to remind himself to return the smile. But he bet it wouldn't look anything like the sunny smile usually spread over his face.
He sat down awkwardly like a robot in a black and white film. Roque laughed and looked at him funny. He didn't know what made Roque laugh but it made him want to avoid his gaze even more.
So, maybe, just maybe, he was just over-sensitive about what he said last night. Maybe anyone in their sane mind would think nothing of it. Or maybe Roque didn't even hear it. But the way Roque looked at him - he had to know, or...
Owen was aware of Roque speaking, but he was too preoccupied with his own confusion to hear what Roque was saying.
Roque eyed him angrily and repeated his question, but Owen was still not responding. Frustrated, Roque switched to English, "Hey, come on! Sleeping?"
"Sorry, what did you say?"
Roque reverted to German, "You still sleeping?"
"Yeah, didn't get enough sleep last night."
Roque looked at Owen's stubbled chin. "Thought so. Must have been celebrating all night?"
"Believe me. Beating Paraguay isn't really a cause for celebration."
"Right. Why didn't you come to our hotel then?"
Owen opened his mouth but no words came out. Roque grinned, as if saying "gotcha" and he switched to their favourite topic: the Germans and the impossibility of working with them.
They unfastened their seatbelt and talked like the good old friends that they were... until Roque brought that up again. "What exactly kept you up last night?"
"Nothing. I was just tired." Owen looked sheepishly around. The flight attendants' flurry of activity had stopped and all was quiet.
"Right." Roque went silent for a couple of second, staring at him, as though he were trying to look through him.
"I need to catch some sleep." Owen hastily closed his eyes. He thought Roque would say something but he didn't.
It was so peaceful and quiet that he figured Roque must have nodded off too. He dared not open his eyes to check. But the image of Roque sleeping brought a smile to his face. He almost forgot he was pretending to be asleep.
Then, Roque's hand touched his and he jumped.
He opened his eyes. There wasn't much reason to go on pretending. He half expected Roque would help him solve his confusion. But Roque was staring at him in a way he had never seen before.
He felt his cheeks burning. And Roque's smile did little to clear his confusion.
"I just knew..." Roque's smug smile almost felt like a smirk.
"Knew what?" He had an urge to run away. And he almost did bolt away from his seat although he knew there was nowhere to run to.
Roque shushed him when he looked like he was going to scream or say something that he would regret for life.
"Easy." Roque placed his hand on Owen's knee. It looked as though he wanted to speak but he stopped himself and looked past Owen's shoulders.
Owen's gaze followed his nervously. The toilet was empty. Was Roque thinking about...?
He turned his gaze back towards Roque. Roque's naughty grin looked almost he was inviting him for a game, or well something to relieve the boredom of the flight.
It wasn't what he'd thought things would turn out. Not in his worst- case scenario and certainly not the best. He didn't know whether he needed to review his worst-case scenario.
Roque went past Owen's seat to the bathroom, his bulge swaying invitingly before Owen's eyes. Owen felt his mouth went dry. He hesitated for a second but finally followed the beautiful latin boy.
Roque grinned as he saw Owen came in. As soon as the door was closed, his mouth assaulted Owen's, leaving Owen no time to think.
It was probably best that way. Their bodies grounded against each other. The sound of their wild snogging echoed off the walls. In the privacy of the restroom, the confusion in Owen's head faded into the background. Looking into Roque's playful but ironically innocent eyes, Owen was helpless against the unbridled lust flooding through his veins. He pushed Roque against the wall, pulled up Roque's shirt and ran his hands over the taut muscles of Roque's flat stomach.
Roque lifted his hand to play with Owen's unruly brown curls, which Owen had thought he only liked poking fun at.
Owen pulled Roque's shirt further up and felt the light fluff of hair on Roque's chest. Roque mumbled something in Spanish when he tweaked his left nipple. Owen didn't understand a word of it, but he knew he'd done something right, and he worked doubly hard on his right.
Roque's soft moans made Owen's already hard cock strain even more. Although his own cock badly needed attention, his hands didn't want to leave Roque's skin. One of them wandered downwards, following Roque's treasure trail down to his belt.
Roque grinned and helped Owen unbuckle his belt. His cock sprang straight out as Owen pulled his brief down.
Owen wanted to touch it but he wasn't sure he really know what to do. He wanted to be the best one Roque had ever been with. But how could he do it when he'd never touched another guy before?
Before he knew it, his hand had instinctively reached for Roque's cock before Roque raised any questions. The touch alone sent a jolt of electricity to his groin.
"Grip it tighter. Stroke it." Roque commanded.
Half woken from his trance, Owen watched his own hand moving up and down the burning flesh.
"No, faster - yeah, that's it."
Owen looked at the clear liquid forming at the tip. He had an urge to taste it.
Roque smiled. "Go for it! I knew you want it."
Owen hesitated when Roque tried to push him down. He pressed his lips to Roque's, stifling Roque's moan as he rubbed his thumb over Roque's dripping cockhead. He never had any man moaning for him. It felt strange but great. And it raised his passion even further.
His mouth dived for Roque's nipples, eliciting more moans from the beautiful boy. It seemed Roque really loved making noises and Owen just loved it.
Roque pulled up Owen's head for another kiss, and he grabbed hold of Owen's wrist, holding Owen's hand there as he thrust in and out of it in a frenzy. Owen pressed his other hand to the wall so as to steady himself, as his knees were going weak. He felt he was getting close without even touching himself.
They gazed into each other's eyes, their passion fuelling each other. Roque's ramblings in Spanish suddenly came to a halt. His juice spurted all over Owen's clothes.
Roque leaned against the wall to regain his breath. His smile of contentment suddenly turned into laughter as he surveyed the mess he'd made on Owen's clothes. "Sorry, I wanted to warn you... But I guess I spoke in Spanish, didn't I?"
"It's alright. Just bring me some fresh clothes here... and fresh undies."
Waiting in the restroom, Owen looked at the stain on his clothes.
All was peaceful and quiet. They were going home.
THE END
Opengoal opengoal@excite.com
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