absquatulate

Jude doesn't really know why he's been listening to Shake If by Metro Station on loop.

Well, okay. He does know why: TikTok propaganda.

He knows he ought to cut down his screentime, because the little free time he has should not be wasted on trending dance videos or silly meme clip.

Jude sighs as he makes his way out of the underground. He gasps at the grey sky, as if shocked by his own decision not to grab his brolly on the way out, knowing full well it was raining before he left. He jogs through the rain, covering his head with his hand, as if it made a difference.

By the time he makes it to his destination, the song has repeated for another time. He rings the doorbell and waits. He hums the repetitive chorus line and wipes his forehead. When he hears the door open, he pulls out his phone and checks his messages, seeing none.

He skips up the stairs and huffs once he reaches his floor. He pauses the music before knocking on the front door, the mere sight of the wooden panel sending tingles to his fingertips.

"Oi," says Erling, as he opens the door not more than 30 seconds later.

He knocks a handful of times and looks down the empty hallway.

Jude turns, tugging one of his earphones out, letting it hang haphazardly by his torso. He chuckles softly then reaches out a hand to dap him up, "Haaland."

They clutch hands and pat each other's shoulder. Erling wipes his rain-watered hand on the back of his sweats. When he steps back to let Jude in, and Jude finally notices the sounds from the TV.

"Playing FIFA," the blonde says as he closes the door behind them. He notices the droplets on the tanned man's back and inspects his person before locking the door, "left your umbrella, yeah?"

The other kicks his shoes off and shrugs, placing his phone and earphones in his pocket and unzipping his windbreaker. His Birmingham accent peaks through more than usual, only because of the company, "nah, just left it, mate."

Erling motions with both hands, "you're wetter than a puddle, mate."

Jude smirks as he walks towards a window, passing the open TV with a paused game of FIFA and the sofa table with notably two beers atop it. He shakes the rain from his coat off outside, "I sure hope so, mate."

The Norwegian groans, and it is not lost to the Brit that he got an eye roll too. It only makes his smirk deepen. 

Finally, Jude sits down on the sofa, his eyes glued on the screen as he pulls out the contents of his pockets on the coffee table, exchanging it with an already opened beer.

Jude closes the window as Erling plops on the couch and continues playing. The former circles to the kitchen and hangs his windbreaker on one of the chairs there.

"That's mine," he mutters without looking at his guest, his eyes trained on the screen and his thumbs fast on his controller.

Bellingham looks at the table, realizing the other bottle was empty. He shrugs and throws an arm over the sofa, draping it just behind the blonde, "mine now." He takes a swig.

His host makes no complaint, too set on winning his videogame.

Jude thinks the beer tastes rather sweet, his brows perking when he sees the exchange between the digital players, "come on, Van Dijk."

"Come on, Haaland!" Haaland says as the ball is passed to the digital version of him.

He snorts, "y'like playing with yourself, yeah?"

"Only if you're watching, Bellingham."

He feels his cheeks grow warm. He takes another swig of the beer, smiling as he swallows, "you playing with me as well?"

"Gonna," Erling blurts, eyes still on the TV screen, "gimme a sec."

Jude watches Erling play; it's more exciting too see his reactions than it is to watch the actual match. He puts the beer down, wiping his cold hand on his jeans before leaning slightly closer to the taller man.

He snorts, airy amusement leaving his nostrils, "take your time, babe."

Just then, Erling jumps up, literally, and cheers, gritting his teeth and sticking his head out as he flexes his arms in celebration of his win. Bellingham chuckles softly, leaning into the backrest, a lopsided smirk semi-permanent on his lips as he watches his striker cheer for himself.

He's eventually compelled to clap, "happy for you, love."

Erling flexes a bit more then roughly sits back down next to him, "let's gooooo."

Jude barely registers the sound of the controller being dropped as his lips are now locked against his. Immediately, he's melting into Haaland, his arm dropping its pretense to drape over his shoulders.

Easily, the blonde pulls his lover to his lap, his arm nonchalantly hooking around his torso. Jude straddles him, a whimper leaving his lips when Erling's warm hands brush Jude's sides underneath his shirt.

He almost speaks Norwegian, but instead, his English is rather course, "you're cold."

The disappointment in his tone makes Jude's belly tingle, "nah, m'not," he leans down to kiss him some more. He clutches Erling's jaw and shifts, grinding their crotches together, "m'warm, baby."

Erling's kisses him back, attentive and slow, but he sighs, his grip hard on Bellingham's narrow hips. He feels Jude pull his hair tie off, his nails deliciously scratching massaging circles into his scalp. In appreciation, he rubs his tanned back, warming his colder body with his warmer hands.

Jude sighs, his core aching and his chest heaving as when Erling finally nabs his shirt and carelessly throws it to the abyss. His belly drops as the blonde inspects his body, rubbing his chest with his large hands. He places his own hands on his pale wrists, "m'not cold, man."

They kiss some more. He makes sure not to pull the younger man's shirt off until he's completely warm.

"Mmm," he persists rubbing the area, "beautiful."

He gulps, his heart racing as if he was running and not sitting on someone's lap right now.

Erling rubs Jude's thighs, his eyes locked on the latter's face until the moment his right hand palms his evident bulge, "excited."

Jude immediately rocks into him, nodding with a soft, "yeah."

He sighs deeply, rubbing Jude up hjs shoulders before hooking his hands behind his neck to nod as well, "good." He pulls him in for a heated kiss, rocking up slightly into him, "been thinking about fucking you all day, beautiful."

"Yeah?" he whines into the other's pink mouth, so aroused, it sounds pained.

Erling grips his tight curls, tugging them slightly as he forces Jude away from his mouth. He draws out a slow breath, his blue eyes locked on the man on his lap. His timbre is gravelly, "yeah." 

Once Jude is left in his socks, he reattempts to get Erling naked. Erling lets him, but he doesn't make it easy, especially not when he rests his head on the sofa and begins lazily stroking Jude's cock.

Jude scrambles to get the other naked. He only manages to get Erling's shirt off and his sweats halfway down. The hair and protruded cock between his lovers thick thighs make him gulp. He wants to grab him, but instead he's helping Haaland get him naked.

Jude whimpers, maneuvering shakily atop him as he struggles to get the massive naked bare, "h-help me out, man."

"I am helping," Erling doesn't miss a beat, his fist tightening around his veiny cock, smearing his thumb on the pulsing head.

He hisses, squeezing the other's firm shoulder,  attempting to glare at him... as if he could intimidate a viking.

"What?" he gives a lopsided smirk, "do you want me to stop?"

"O-of course not!"

Haaland smacks his midfielders ass with his free hand, slightly harder than if they were both on he pitch, "c'mon then, Bellingham. Bounce."

Jude whimpers, arching his back as he makes a face, "Haaland..."

He grabs his hips with both hands, rocking his tanned frame on his pale one, making sure to grind his own hips upwards, "you complainin'?"

"N-ng—" he leans his weight onto Erling's shoulders, making the heated rutting cease, "baby, you're big." 

He is unmoved by the statement, albeit factual. Erling rubs his hands on the man's toned belly.

Jude looks down, shifting atop him to press their cocks against each other. Erling hums in approval. Jude ensures they are perfectly aligned, but then the other begins to roll his hips. He whimpers, squeezing the blonde's chest, "n-no, look."

Erling stops, sighing through his mouth as his gaze follows the other's. Both of their cocks are throbbing and wet at the top. Erling takes his hand around them both, pumping them together.

"E-Erling-" whines the smaller of the two, "m'tryna show you how much bigger your cock is!"

He has the gall to shrug, "not my problem."

The one on top leans into the other's shoulder, placing wet kisses on there as he heaves hotly.

Jude whines loudly as their cocks are simultaneously stroked.

"Making me do all the fucking work all the time," Erling keeps his eyes on their cocks, watching their flesh get more and more slick.

"Erling..." he pants.

He kisses his dark hairline, "want me to bend you over, princess?"

Bellingham shakes his head, sweat building upon his brow. He straightens up and gulps, "bounce."

His nostrils flare in excitement. He nods and kisses him before rubbing his thighs, "fucking work for it."

Jude's cock throbs. He pulls back and kneels between the pair of pale thighs, grabbing his swollen cock to put it in his mouth and wet it with spit until it's completely slobbered on.

Erling watches in wonder, his entire face flushed red in need, brushing his curls in encouragement, "could come in your mouth, darling."

His jaw is tired when he pulls away, gulping and gritting his teeth. He rubs his throat for effect, "fucking monster."

The blonde chuckles softly, both affectionate and teasing, his cheeks warming all over again.

Finally, Jude begins to bounce.

He crawls over his viking, straddling his hips and grabbing his thick, slick cock before slowly sinking down. Jude groans and clenches his teeth, clutching Haaland's nape as Haaland presses his mouth against Jude's pounding chest, licking his nipple before sucking on it.

Erling wraps his arms tightly around his waist, a slew of foreign curses leaving his mouth under hushed breath. He kisses the man's neck and begins sucking just by his collar bone.

"Haaland," he whines, trying to push him back.

He groans in annoyance, "no one's gonna know."

Jude tangles his fingers into his light hair and pulls him back. It doesn't work, it only makes him moan. His voice shakes, "Haaland!"

"No one's gonna know," he insists, grabbing Jude's cock, stroking it as he suckles his neck.

He shivers and groans, his mouth on Erling's temples. His bouncing falters as he shudders and pathetically complains, "e-everyone's gonna know." His eyes begin to mist, from the pleasure and something more.

"No one's gonna know, baby," Erling mutters, peppering kisses on his neck, "just one, baby."

He whimpers, "n-no!"

"Yeah," he contests coolly, "just say it's a bruise."

Jude whimpers, then again when Erling begins thrusting up into him. He could seriously cry, "baby."

"Feel so good," Erling nips his collar, "so good to me." He continues to suck on his skin.

"Haaland," he whines on the top of his head, "I can't be having a bruise on the same place every week."

He strokes him harder, the sound of his palm around him wet and fast, "yah, you can. Keep bumping into the same thing."

"Haaland."

Erling bites him but then immediately relents, licking his brown skin, "probably already marked you anyway."

"S'not funny-"

"I'm gonna come."

"Already?!" Bellingham wheezes, "I just started!"

Jude lurches forward, wrapping his arms Erling's over for dear life, moaning loudly into the cushion of the backrest, his body shaking with each wet slap.

He snorts, "what, like you're not close," pulling away just to see how swollen Jude's cock is, "yeahhhhh," he begins thrusting upwards harder, "yeah, don't come then."

Erling huffs sharply, his focus on both their legs. His arm is beginning to ache but he pushes through the pain, taking this moment as seriously as he does training or a match. He lets Jude make all the noise, his concentration demanding silence and the occasional grunt. Then he remembers, "doing so good for me."

Jude immediately clenches.

And so Erling praises him some more, "so beautiful, fucking yourself on me like this."

He pants, his thighs shaking, his bouncing getting rougher despite the burn in his muscles.

"Letting me wreck your tight little ass," he rubs Jude's toned ass, "gonna give you the cream."

"Yeah."

"Gonna reward you good."

He grits his teeth, haphazardly nibbling Erling's ear.

Jude pulls back, breathing harshly through his mouth, feeling his entire body tense and burn. He rocks harder, more frantic, helplessly calling out for Erling, watching his veiny hand pump his cock until it's completely drenched with his hot spend. Bellingham comes with a strangled moan, his belly twitching as his bouncing staggers instantly.

He groans when he feels him tighten. He smacks his juggling flesh, "good fucking ass."

"Fuckkkkkk," he sighs in approval, feeling his come coat his fist, "did so good f'me, baby," he kisses him and strokes him just a few more times.

Jude shakes as he continues to take Erling, his body rigid though he felt fucking boneless. He hiccups and clutches his neck, "come for me, love. Come inside me."

"Gonna come," he confirms, his large hands locking on his waist, desperately maneuvering him to chase after his own pleasure.

They both moan when Erling comes, the heat spreading between them thickening the sweat on the skin.

The older one thrusts until he is completely sated and then some, making both their bodies shake in overstimulation. Jude relaxes after he fact, his mouth finding Erling's jaw, peppering kisses there.

They stay this way only for a few seconds; it's Bellingham who pulls away overwhelmed by their shared heat, relieved and sated as Haaland's cock dislodges. Bellingham catches his breath as the blonde stands and walks off, returning after he's cleaned himself to clean him up next.

Once he's all cleaned up, Erling walks away again, his tight ass on full display. "Are we going again?"

He really doesn't have to; Jude will clean himself up later anyway but he appreciates each time Erling does this.

"Again?!" Jude laughs, his face burning, his loins aching, "I haven't even caught my breath yet!"

Haaland returns, making a face as he shrugs, "s'why I'm askin', innit."

Jude blows as raspberry as he watches the man pace around his place, naked and unashamed, truly a sight for sore eyes. He leans on the sofa as the viking returns with a freshly opened beer bottle.

Erling sits next to him as he drinks deeply, his eyes falling on the faint mark he left on Jude's collar.

Jude takes the bottle from him before he's even finished having his fill.

Though he gives him an offended look, he makes no attempt to stop him from stealing his drink, "that's literally mine, lad."

The other drinks in silence.

Erling turns to the table, pointing at the other bottle, "you didn't even finish that! And you stole it as well!"

Jude hands him the half-consumed beer, feeling his body warm from the alcohol, "this one's colder, yeah."

Bellingham's stomach aches with something terrible. He turns away before his affection gets the best of him but kisses Haaland's cheek before standing, "I best be goin'."

He rolls his eyes at him.

Immediately, he puts the bottle down.

"It's raining too much. The tube's gonna get mad packed."

Erling watches him go to the bathroom before reemerging to gather his clothes and dress. He doesn't hide his disappoint whatsoever, "no one's kicking you out, man."

"No, I know," he pulls his hands up, "but I've got training, yeah."

"What, and I don't?" Erling stands, easily towering over him. He wasn't trying to impose, after all, he can't help that he's taller than most people, yet in this moment, he hoped that as he looked down on him, he'd silently be able to impose his will on Jude.

Any sort of imposition completely evades him, as he knows this man, though built like he's meant to last a battle amidst a harsh winter, would never hurt a fly. "I know," is all he says as he zips up his jeans, "I know, but my things aren't here."

"You have things here," Haaland motions, "you can use my things."

Jude looks away, repeating again, but under his breath, "I know."

It feels like he wasn't meant to hear that, and he can't say if it makes it better or worse. Erling's chest tightens regardless.

"I really do have to go though," explains Jude as he looks around the room for his shirt.

No, you don't. He doesn't say this.

"My mum's comin' round later tonight and all..." he trains off, finally finding his shirt.

He shakes his head and shrugs, "I could drive you later."

Jude silently dresses.

"I don't know what the big deal is."

"I just-" he sighs, "I'm not ready for you to meet my fam-"

"I've met your family."

He huffs through his nostrils, "you know what I mean."

Erling watches Jude grab his things from the table. He grits his teeth, whispering roughly, "no I don't know what you mean."

"I don't want to have to explain myself."

Jude can feel the tension between them thicken like molasses. He watches Erling puts on his sweats. "I mean, what do I say? I'm fucking my best friend."

He looks away, searching for his hair tie then tying his hair up.

Erling is annoyed as he sits down, evident with how he grabs the controller and resumes the game, "we're best friends now?"

"..."

His eye twitches as he dares to look at Jude.

Bellingham looks like he's seen a ghost.

He looks back to his game, "go on then. I'm glad to fuck my friends."

Erling slumps in his seat as he sets up his game. His face is hard and clearly irritated.

He cannot control how his face twitches, "I-"

Jude feels like he could barf yet he brings himself to say it, "you're the one that said this is just fucking."

He freezes then turns to him. He shifts and leans in his knees, "what?"

He shrugs, "you said we'd just bet fucking and I agreed." He makes a face, "I know how you Scandinavians are."

Erling stands again, dropping his controller on the sofa.

He feels like he could cry but he refuses to, thus his weepiness begins to crystalize into anger. It's almost as if Jude's about to argue with a referee for ruling incorrectly, and honestly, yeah.

"I said that months ago."

"So, your words have an expiration?" he tilts his head.

"No."

"Then what?"

Haaland shakes his head as he looks away, placing his hands on his hips, "clearly one of us likes the other more."

Jude's throat tightens.

"Fine, just go," he motions to the door, "see you next week, I guess."

Erling plops back down on the couch as Jude clenches his teeth.

Jude can't move. He draws a deep breath and repeats, "you're the one that said we're just fucking."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," he quips as he roughly presses the buttons on his controller.

"Why are you upset then?"

He roughly puts the controller down on the table, "I'm upset because you want to leave so soon!"

"..."

His jaw flares.

"... that's it?"

Erling chuckles dryly, grabbing his controller again, "yeah, that's fucking it."

Jude's eye twitches. He has half the mind to reexplain he's going to see his mum, but instead he rolls his and heads for the door, "right. Bye, then."

Haaland doesn't reply.

He roughly pulls his windbreaker off the chair, "I said goodbye!"

Jude exits the building and steps into the pavement despite the downpour. He doesn't pretend shielding his face will do anything. Shake It by Metro Station plays for the nth time on his way to the underground.

"Yeah, yeah," Erling scowls at the TV, his shoulders tense and squared. He pauses the game when he hears the door shut and roughly rubs his face, "holy fucking shit."

I think I'm falling in love.