#jamiedani

Jamie’s lips are bruised by the time Rojas pulls back to murmur huskily, his wet lips feather-light where they brush Jamie’s, “You scored.” Oh. Oh, right. Jamie’s hip jerk in response, and Dani’s hand instantly drops to settle the score. He cups his hand around Jamie’s straining cock, stroking it through his jeans like a craftsman expertly polishing some sort of precious masterpiece. All the while, he doesn't ease up on the kissing. His tongue flicks against his lips, tracing the open gape of them teasingly before sealing them together with an intense surge of passion that leaves Jamie’s legs trembling. Only Rojas crowding him against the door, hot and insistent, keeps him from spilling to the ground. Only the clamoring need to get fucked, now, gives Jamie the strength to break away and say as much. “Forget the free blowjob. I was thinking we try something new.” That’s not exactly the seductively convincing argument he had in mind, but it’s direct and to the point and fuck, Jamie wants it. He needs it.

He's got a tight leash wrapped around his chest at the thought of taking it, but he knows from experience that once things get started, he'll relax into it. Always does.

He'll deal with the fallout in the morning. Rojas pulls away. He looks well-kissed and a little drunk on all the pheromones or whatever it is they’ve got in the room that makes Jamie feel like his skin is alight with arousal. Rojas clearly feels it too. The dusk of his nipples peeks through his threadbare shirt, teased to hardness and mouth-wateringly tempting. His arm, braced against the door by Jamie’s head, shakes with the effort of restraint. Even still, the hand cupping Jamie through his jeans doesn't stop, absently massaging and stroking through the fabric like he’s forgotten how to do anything else. There’s a telltale tent in his joggers, prominent and needy, and just the sight of it makes Jamie want to drop to his knees right there. That's not even WAG-behaviour anymore, that's full-on groupie Swimfan levels dangerous amounts of obsessed.

Dani follows his glance and flushes even deeper. He drops his gaze to the floor. For a moment he looks dazed. His dutiful stroking comes to a distracted halt, and his face slackens in turned-on, fucked-out heat when they've barely even done nothing.

It's weirdly hot. Not to mention flattering.

Jamie's toes flex uncertainly against the carpet. He flexes his hips, a polite and wordless reminder of the task at hand, so to speak. Then, just as quickly as it'd poked its head in, the moment flutters away. A strangely abashed expression crosses Dani's face. He shakes himself out of it and offers Jamie a small smile that trembles at the corners. “Ah, I might had a similar idea...,” he starts to explain.

This one is a JamieDani foot fetish smut fic, wherein Jamie and Dani have a fwb arrangement for after match celebrations. What Dani wants isn’t exactly Jamie’s cuppa, but he likes to make people feel good and he’s willing to give it a shot.

It’s a sexcomedy about friendship, where Jamie learns how to put the 'friend' in friends with benefits and Dani finds someone willing to help him explore his passion for a certain part of the human anatomy It’s called I’m in love with the sole of you

(I swear I didn't write it just because of the puntastic title, but I might've if I'd thought of it first)

The way Jamie sees it, the first wank in the shower is free. He’s a curious lad, always has been. He’s had plenty of wanks in the shower that didn’t amount to nothing. After the second wank, things become a bit more clear. He strokes himself, nursing the memory of Rojas’ hand tangled in his hair. Those cut hips shuddering; the soft skin of his abdomen fluttering as he came pulsing down his throat. The way he groaned, loud and content, and how the echo of it left Jamie's skin humming for hours.