you could recognise Roy's voice immediately, and you let out a dramatic sigh to yourself when you realise why he's at your house. if only Keeley didn't have such good intuition, then Jamie would still be holding you close, lulling you back to sleep with the steady sound of his breathing. instead, you hear him groan loudly, his words to Roy incoherent through the hallway. he retreats to your bedroom, tiptoeing towards your side of the bed before crouching down, lightly brushing his thumb over your cheek. the pad of his finger traces your cheekbone and up to your eyebrow, before pushing a strand of air behind your ear.

"I'm really sorry, love, but I have to go train with Roy." his voice is soft as he whispers, and you realise you've never heard him speak with such tenderness. you wish you could just pull him back into the bed and stay there with him forever, tangled in the sheets with your warm skin pressed against his. instead, you force one eye to open. the second he notices you're awake, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. digging your hand from beneath your duvet, you reach up to grab his neck, pulling him down harder. this time, you kiss deeper, and you moan at the feeling of his lips on yours again, memories of last night flooding your thoughts.

last night, you'd spent hours pressed against each other, messily grabbing at each other's bodies like two starving animals. the two of you had managed to leave a path of destruction in your wake, with your clothes and the bedsheets strewn across your bedroom. you hadn't realised just how much pent up tension there was between you two, but you definitely got it all out during your first night together -- Jamie definitely lives up to his well-endowed reputation.

when you finally pull away from Jamie's soft plump lips, you clear your throat quietly before taking a deep breath in. you muster up all the voice your hoarse throat would allow, shouting "fuck off Roy!" as loud as you can. the sudden sound makes Jamie jump, covering his ears with his hands as he looks at you in surprise. when you nestle back into the pillow with a peaceful smile, his eyes fill with amusement and warmth, his pupils growing wide. "good girl," he mutters with a grin, before kissing you again, rough and hard. his lips move roughly against yours and you use your hands on his neck as leverage, pulling your naked chest up against his clothed one. Jamie's tongue is pressing hard in your mouth, pulling small grunts and sounds from your throat. as hard as you try to pull him down onto the bed, he's too strong for you, and you end up dropping back on the mattress as he abruptly pulls away and stands up.

"Jamie!" you whine, hands reaching out in a poor attempt to grab at his oversized t-shirt.

"now," he starts, looking down at you as he towers over you, "please tell me you have clothes I can wear."

it's only then that you notice he's only wearing the big t-shirt he'd clearly picked up from your floor. your jaw drops, eyes widening as you take in his Winnie The Pooh inspired look. you start to laugh, sitting up against the headboard of your bed, before your face suddenly drops.

"Jamie..." you say flatly.

"mhm?" his eyebrows raise in question.

"did you open the door like that?"

"yeah," he shrugs like it's nothing.

"Jamie!" you shriek, reaching your hands up to his shoulders and nudging him away from your bed.

"what?" he laughs, playfully stumbling backwards with the force of your push.

"what if that was anyone else?!" you slump in defeat as you gawk at him. silently, he lifts his shoulders casually, as if what he did wasn't extremely risky and extremely naked.

"but..." he says slowly as he steps closer to you again, holding his two hands out for you to take, "it wasn't anyone else. it was just granddad, so..."

placing your hands in his, you sit up on your knees, "this would be so much cuter if I wasn't basically at eye-level with your dick right now,"

with a loud laugh, Jamie pulls you up to stand on the mattress, still holding your hands. he looks up at you through his eyelashes, lowering his voice as he wraps his arms around your hips; "this better?"

"much," you nod with a small smile as you pull his face to yours, both hands placed on each side of this face. when you connect your mouths again, you feel his lips curve into a smile. without pulling away he mumbles against your lips: "Roy's on the couch, by the way,"

"fucks sake, Jamie!" you squeal again, quickly jumping off the bed and picking his discarded button up shirt from the floor. you pull it on, doing up some of the buttons as you walk towards your cupboard. Jamie cackles to himself behind you, and you conceal a smile from him as you bite back a laugh of your own. you bend down to dig through one of your drawers, and Jamie wastes no time to come up behind you and place a palm to your scantily clad backside, brushing himself against it as he pushes past you. rolling your eyes to yourself, you finally stand up again, a pair of old oversized gym shorts in your hands. turning around, you're faced with Jamie sliding on his boxers. ignoring the blush that creeps onto your face, you step towards him, holding out the shorts for him to wear.

"oh God, these aren't your ex's are they?" Jamie pouts.

"gross," you look at him with a disgusted grimace, "no, they're mine for bed- so is that top you're wearing, by the way."

"I figured... it smells grim." he teases, and you slap his bare legs with the shorts before handing them to him. after sharing another laugh, you turn to grab yourself a pair of joggers from your cupboard, hoping they're appropriate enough to wear in front of Roy.

"how do I look?" Jamie asks you, standing at your bedroom door with his arms stretched out.

"a bit like you're wearing someone else's clothes," you state.

"walk of shame kinda look?"

"yes."

"perfect."

laughing loudly, you chase him out of your bedroom and push him towards the bathroom, letting him know there's spare toothbrushes in the cabinet behind the mirror. "yes chef," he says to you as he jogs in, closing the door behind him with a wink. as you turn the corner at the end of the hallway, you're faced with Roy Kent sitting on your sofa.

"Roy!" you say cheerily, as if you didn't just scream at him to fuck off.

"y/n," he politely nods towards you.

"any coffee? or tea? or..." you ask, gesturing towards the kitchen half of the room.

"no thanks," he says, completely emotionless and seemingly unable to hold eye contact with you.

"okay..." you trail off, looking around the room awkwardly as you think of where you should sit down. assuming it's your safest bet, you settle on leaning in the open doorway, your back to the hallway. "did you have a good night yesterday?" you continue.

"I did. I especially enjoyed watching Rebecca embarrass your boyfriend at the table."

"oh- I don't think he's my..." you trail off. who knows what you and Jamie are -- you hadn't had the chance to give it much thought since the gala. "anyways, I'm glad you had fun!" you chirp, unsure of how to act around him. it's never normally this stressful interacting with Roy, but the air this morning feels different than at work, and it's definitely because he's sitting in your flat fully aware of how -- and with who -- you spent your night. the two of you stay in a comfortable silence after that, his head turned to look through the window next to the sofa as you stare down at the floor. just minutes later, not just the sound of footsteps, but also the hand sliding from your bum up to your lower back marks Jamie's entrance.

"chipper up, dickhead. you're a guest, act like one." Jamie says to Roy, palm planted firmly against the curve of your back as he nods his head towards the door.

"careful Tartt, or you'll be running through the streets of Richmond in your socks." Roy bluntly retorts, drawing your attention to Jamie's lack of footwear. you look up at Jamie with wide and amused eyes, trying not to laugh at the state of him. Roy stands up and walks towards the two of you, holding eye contact with Jamie as he drops a pair of runners on the ground.

"mind the floor! Jesus, Roy, you're a really shit houseguest," Jamie jokingly barks as he ducks down to pick up the shoes, and the cold air hits where his hand had rested, making disappointing goosebumps rise across your skin.

Roy rolls his eyes at Jamie, holding his stare with furrowed brows. but he slowly relaxes them before looking at you, genuine regret in his eyes now replacing his previous stern expression; "sorry about your floor, y/n."

"that's fine, don't worry," you wave a hand, dismissing his apology with a sweet smile. he strides towards the front door and twists the handle, waiting for Jamie.

you've never seen anyone tie shoes as quickly as he did, and he stands up with a small hop in his step. "let's go coach!" he chirps, and when Roy turns to leave, he quickly ducks down and kisses you again, running his tongue across your bottom lip teasingly.

"can I come back for my clothes in like an hour?" he asks you, staring deep into your eyes. his eyes hold a mix of sadness and hope, clearly also wishing he could just spend the rest of his morning in bed with you.

"two hours." Roy juts in.

"fine, two hours." Jamie corrects himself, not taking his eyes off yours. biting your lip, you nod up at him, completely infatuated with him. your night together was like nothing you could have ever imagined, and you're surprised your legs are working properly. Jamie, however, seems completely fine as he jogs out the door with a wave, a flirty smile on his face as he winks at you again. "oh, uh- y/n, you've got a little something..." he points towards his neck before sticking out his tongue and pulling the door closed. your eyes widen as panic sets in, and you sprint to your bathroom to look at the mirror.

"fuck..." you sigh to yourself, your face going beet red at the thought of Roy seeing you like this. no wonder he couldn't look at you -- there's a red and purple bruise right under your ear; a hickey from Jamie Tartt.

—

after his morning training with Roy, Jamie came straight back home to you, picking you up from the sofa and carrying you straight to the bathroom. you showered together that morning, adding even more steam to the already wet room. he spent the day at your house, lounging around with you. there was never a moment where you weren't touching, always a hand on your thigh or your fingers raking through his hair. he showed you his favourite film and you showed him yours, and you couldn't help but be surprised that his favourite was Ratatouille. that day was sweet, and calm, and you'd never seen Jamie so relaxed before. suddenly, he wasn't all mouth and attitude, he was tender and loving, even ordering you both takeout for dinner. you enjoyed both chatting and complete silence, taking your time to pick each other's brains and tell each other stories, but also just to enjoy each other's company and the weight of your bodies on top of each other.

he asked you on a second date that day, offering the next day as a good time to do it; "tomorrow's a Sunday," he said, "Sunday is the Lord's day of resting, and what better day is there to stay in the house and shag all day."

"that's seriously your idea for our second date?" you had asked him with an ugly chortle as response to his wild words.

"okay... what if, after work on Monday, I take you to my favourite restaurant, and you can wear that dress you wore to the gala." he said, voice deep and gravelly. all you'd done was nod sweetly before he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

you agreed on your date, and from that day on, you would never show up to work alone again -- Jamie would either pick you up in his car, or meet you on your way to work and walk the rest of the way with you. still, every time, there was a latte just for you. and every morning, Jamie still takes the time to sign in before training, always scribbling a small heart next to his name just for you. it didn't take long for him to ask you on a third date, then a fourth, and finally on the fifth he asked you to be his girlfriend. it's not like it was casual by any means, Jamie always went above and beyond on your dates, and you were definitely something more than just dating after the night of the gala. but he'd officially asked you to be his girlfriend after you met his mum for the first time.

he'd taken you and his mum to brunch in one of the fanciest hotels you'd ever seen, and with an endless flow of tiny sandwiches and tea as fuel, the three of you had gotten stuck chatting into the afternoon. you and his mum got on like a house on fire, laughing much louder than seemed appropriate in the esteemed hotel. but you didn't care -- you could tell how much his mum's approval meant to Jamie.

every match he played, you were there wearing his jersey. at Rebecca's request, you were always sitting in the owner's box with her and Keeley, letting you keep your eyes glued on him as he played. and before every match he would blow a kiss up to where you were sitting, just as he did the first time you wore his name on your back at a Richmond match. you even wore the same red and blue jersey to every match he played for England, despite the white jersey given to you when he got selected. during those matches, you would sit in the stands with his mum and her partner, sitting as close to the pitch as you could. that way, if they ever won a match he could run straight to you -- and that's exactly what happened when England won against The Netherlands in the Euros' semi-finals, much to Jan Maas' dismay.

the first time he posted you on Instagram was six months into your relationship, when he took you as his date to Beard and Jane's magical wedding at Stonehenge. you had gone back to Sarah, the tailor who made you your dress for the gala, to get yourself something to wear. this time, Keeley went with you, insisting you should keep your dress a secret from Jamie until the wedding just as if you were the bride and groom. and lo and behold, you caught Jane's bouquet at the wedding reception that night.

the longer your relationship progressed, the stronger the two of you became. Jamie was nothing but a gentleman. always. and as much as the two of you prioritised communication in your relationship, sometimes it was as if you could read each others' minds; taking care of each other quickly became instinctual.

when you eventually moved in with him, Jamie gave you free reign on redecorating his entire house. but you decided to sit with him for hours building a mood board instead, wanting to encapsulate both of your personalities in your shared home. during your first Christmas living with Jamie, both of your families came together to celebrate, and the love and merriness warmed your home for the rest of winter.

before you knew it, years had passed, and you had even gotten your own chance to toss the bouquet, wearing a beautiful dress designed by Sarah, of course. you and Jamie had joined the list of power couples at Richmond FC -- and as long as there were phone calls for you to answer at the club's front desk, and matches for Jamie to help the Greyhounds win, you were also colleagues.

safe to say you never had to force him to come by your desk ever again.

———

"Good morning!" Isaac chirps, genuinely in a good mood.

"Nice hair." Jamie says with a smirk on his face, and you curse to yourself as you duck out of the window quickly. You glance at the mirror next to your bed, seeing yesterday's messy bun hanging on for dear life as your hair has folded in on itself in your sleep, making it even messier. you tug the hair tie out of it, leaving your hair down and wild as you appear back in the window.

"What's this prick doing here?" you ask Isaac, and a sudden shiver runs over your body as the cold really starts to bite you.

"He's giving us a lift to work," Isaac replies.

"Why?" you snap.

“Because he's being a nice person." Isaac snaps back, holding his hands out beside him.

"Yeah, so hurry up, woman, don't make me late." Jamie snaps as he dismisses you with a wave of his hand. Slamming the window shut, you move quickly between your room and the bathroom, getting ready as fast you possibly can. You decide to leave your hair down on your way to training, a new choice since you normally always have your hair tied up. Dressed in simple yoga leggings and a hoodie, you grab your phone and rush down stairs and grab your gym bag.

Gia has now joined Isaac and Jamie at the latter's car as they all chat. Jamie faces you, still leaning against the side of his fancy car, whilst the other two stand in front of him with their backs to you. You let your eyes rake over Jamie properly this time, stunned by how good he manages to look in such a low-effort outfit. The bagginess contrasts his usually too-tight jeans and tops, and you quite enjoy knowing the muscles are still underneath his clothes without seeing them almost ripping their seams. When the door clicks closed behind you, Jamie's eyes flick away from your friends, landing on you. He blinks a few times, tipping his head back slightly as he drags his eyes down your frame before coming back up to your face.

Jamie is well aware you're watching him stare, but he makes no effort to tear his eyes away. Gia and Isaac don't notice, continuing whatever explanation they're giving Jamie, but he's definitely not listening. It feels like time is moving in slow motion as you stare at each other. His fingers come up to untie the string of his hood, and you see his jaw clench as his neck becomes visible. Waiting for his next move, you're in a bit of a daze, not once breaking eye contact with him, even when he stuffs his hands into the pocket at the front of his light blue hoodie. Jamie licks his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, and your head tilts down slightly as your eyes focus on the movement. He lifts his lips into a smirk, the change in expression making you quickly look back up at his eyes.

"Nice hair," he finally speaks, his tone more genuine than mocking like it was when you were in the window. His comment pulls Isaac and Gia out of their conversation, turning to see you standing on your front step, bag over your shoulder. "Oh, finally. Let's go! We have to get breakfast at the club." Despite the small smile creeping up your face, you roll your eyes, pushing at the wooden door to make sure it's locked before walking towards the car. You walk right up to Jamie, looking up at him with your head cocked to the side; "Thank you, Jamie. Nice hoodie."

Giving you a tight-lipped smile, he mirrors your tilted head, letting his eyes flick down to your lips. But he's quick to dart his eyes back up to yours, his pupils completely dilating. Smiling at the reflex, you furrow your brows teasingly, wanting to tease him as he pushes himself off the car and steps aside to pull open his door. But instead you say: "Wait," hand involuntarily reaching out and wrapping around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. You gulp nervously, dropping the touch almost as quickly as you initiated it, before sighing; "I just want to say sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn't mean it."

He leans down, holding his cheek right beside yours as he hoarsely whispers; "That's alright, darlin'. You'll find a way to make it up to me."

The sound hits you right between your legs, and all you can do is dive into the backseat of the car. Squeezed in behind the driver's seat, your face is hidden behind your massive gym bag. And you're grateful for it, not brave enough to face Jamie in the rearview mirror. You settle your gaze out the window, a stubborn pout on your lips remaining there during the whole drive, desperately trying to slow your heart rate.

When the car finally pulls into AFC Richmond's car park, you're the last to get out. Gia and Isaac rushed inside to see your coaches, leaving you and Jamie behind.

"Coach duties, I guess," you mutter as you watch them race into the training center, saying it more to yourself than to Jamie. He has one hand resting on the roof of his car and the other reaching out towards you. With a grimace plastered on your face, you look up at him with an eyebrow raised, puzzled by his gesture; "What?" you snap.

"So much for feminism," Jamie groans, rolling his eyes and sighing before jutting his hand closer to you like he's a child trying to show you a snail on his hand. You dart back, shaking your head at him with confusion and disgust on your face. Dropping his head forward with another sigh, he drops his hand for a moment, smacking it against his leg.

"Your bag," he says, clearly irritated, before bringing his hand out again, "Can I carry your bag in for ya?"

"What the fuck?" you cackle loudly, attracting the attention of other staff members making their way into the building. Jamie lifts his hand to give them a curt wave, sending them an awkward smile. As you clutch your stomach with laughter, you turn away from Jamie, walking towards the entrance.

"What?" he whines, following close in your step, "I'm being serious! I'm trynna be nice here."

"Jamie, since when is it feminist to assume a lady needs her bag carried?" you push through the doors, smiling to yourself, knowing you're driving him nuts.

Glancing back at him, you see him walking with his shoulder slumped, a bewildered look on his face; "I'm so confused," his words are surprisingly genuine, no more bitter edge to his tone.

"Jamie," you smile at him, stopping in the middle of the hallway to face him, "I'm just fucking with you. But, no. Over my dead body will I ever let you touch my stuff." you continue walking, speeding up your pace as you approach the staircase which leads to the women's locker room.

"You say that, y/n, but I was literally on your couch last night so..."

With your back still turned to him, you hold your tongue, simply rolling your eyes as you choose not to bite back.

"Woah, Jamie, you went home with her last night?" is the last thing you hear someone say before sprinting up the stairs, again, ignoring it. Whatever Jamie replies to that question will only make you angry, so you decide to be the bigger person by tuning it out.

As you make your way down the hallway with the fake grass-covered ground, you bump into Roy. Your eyes lighten up at the sight of him, raising a hand to wave at him, but when you see his smile turn smug, you drop your arm. Your cheeks go hot as you remember the words you two parted with yesterday, and your wide smile shrinks into a polite, tight-lipped one.

"How was your shit?"

You sigh, ignoring his question and looking at him with stern eyes; "Do you think I should train with Jamie?" Roy fills his cheeks with air before blowing out slowly, extremely slowly. He stares down the hallway for so long that you glance over your shoulder to make sure there's not a ghost standing there.

"Roy, I'm going to be late to training if-" you whisper, but he's quick to interrupt you.

"Yes."

"Yeah? Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?" you challenge his deadpan answers, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow at him.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, you're actually quite nervous for his answer. You're well aware he and Jamie haven't always been the best of friends, and Isaac's told you all about their old rivalry, but you also know they've somehow managed to move on from that by now.

"Because..." he starts, dragging the word out in a growl, "As much as I hate to say this, I think he needs real competition with someone in order to be good at the game."

"Why do I have to be that competition? Can't you just use someone from his own team,"

"Sadly, I can't personally fight him, and he's too much of a team player with the boys now."

"So I'm gonna be his fucking punching bag just so you guys can score more goals?" You suddenly start getting warm, and not in the nice way. "Gia said this would somehow help her as our captain but now you're saying I'm basically just doing Jamie Tartt a favour," you continue.

"Not entirely," Roy breathes out, staring at you with a look of hope, "First of all, Ted's made Jamie all nice by giving him a second chance, so he's not as intense on the field as he used to be. Sometimes we need him to be a prick, just not to his own teammates. So, after seeing you guys rile each other up at training yesterday I thought it would be a good idea to have you bring back that fire in him."

With a stubborn pout, you stare up at Roy while he speaks, completely bewildered by his explanation. You consider protesting, but since this is probably the most consecutive words he's ever said to you, you let him finish.

"And second, Gia thinks you might need the same kind of thing," he stutters through his statement, clearly wary of your response. But when he sees your unwavering expression, he continues; "I mean, I do see where she's coming from. She wants you to enjoy football again, and she knows you have fun with the more aggressive side of it,"

"Fun... fuck's sake," you mumble to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Roy ignores your interjection; "Y/n, I think in asking you to do her a favour, Gia is also doing you one. She wants you to play the best you can, and you want her to succeed the best she can. Don't even think about Tartt in all of this, he'll be just fine without or without you."

You chew the inside of your cheeks, staring up at Roy with a complete lack of emotion. your mind, however, is running on high, and you feel like an overheating motor as you mull over his points. You want to ask what Jamie thinks about this whole idea, but you decide against it; this isn't for Jamie, this is for Gia. You want her to be the best captain she can be, and you want to be the best footballer you can be. You know your passion has worn off with the stress of playing for Richmond, and as much as you don't want to agree that this will help you, you know they're right. You know very well that you need this as much as Gia needs you, and you hate to think of having to leave the team just because you couldn't do your best on the pitch. The deep need for football has dissipated over the years, but your want for it has returned.

"Fine."

And that one word is the reason you are on Richmond's training pitch again, trailing behind Roy and Jamie as you follow them away from the rest of the team. You take this as an ideal opportunity to look Jamie up and down, knowing you'd get caught if you do it at any other time today. His hands are wrapped in the front of shirt, pulling the fabric slightly higher on his back. A bit of skin peeks out from underneath, and sadly, his summer tan is fading. His navy shorts cling tightly to his form, the stretchy fabric pulled taut over his ass and riding up his thighs as he walks. What a slag. He knows he looks good -- calf muscles straining with every step, and you have to shake your head to get rid of the amused smile creeping up your face.

Jamie must feel your eyes on his back, because he turns his head to look at you, making you shoot your gaze to the sky and pretend to be very interested in the few clouds above you. "Hurry up, you." he teases with a some sweetness to his voice, rather than the usual cocky snark. The unfamiliar tone has you obliging with a smile, jogging up to meet him and Roy.

"Stretch." Your coach instructs, and you do exactly what you're told without even glancing at the man next to you. You lunge, bend, and bounce as you feel your muscles loosen. The grass is still dewy and wet from the morning mist beneath your exposed thighs as you sit on the ground and you can feel your shorts dampen beneath you as you bend forward, folding your torso over your outstretched legs. The feeling of Jamie's eyes on you is overpowering, making you subconsciously rush through some of the movements. Maybe this is his opportunity to shamelessly stare at you, but with the way it's making your face hot you don't actually want him to stop, appreciating the warmth in the crisp air.

Roy works the two of you to the bone, making you run the entire length of the pitch a dozen times before having you doing the same kicking drills over and over. And of course the captains were right; being paired with Jamie is giving you that extra push of competitiveness you've been missing, and it seems to be doing the same to Jamie. Between all the offensive remarks and nicknames you throw at each other, you both do always take the time to compliment each other on the particularly impressive skills you pull off. Your competitive camaraderie does not go unnoticed by Roy, who continues to up the ante every time he senses one of you getting fed up with the other.

After a round of broncos to top off your fast-speed exercises, Roy shouts "Whistle!", finally allowing you and Jamie a break.

You collapse in the grass the second you hear his call, spreading into a starfish position on your back. Jamie follows suit, dropping onto his front in a similar shape. Lifting your hands to cover your face, you try to steady your heart rate and slow down your heavy breathing. The focus on your body silences your mind, and you can't hear anything except for the blood rushing through your veins.

There's a light tickle on your right leg, blades of grass brushing your skin, and you assume its an ant or spider which managed to make its way through the lawn. However, when you feel the tickle continue in a steady rhythm, you move your hands to your chest and tilt your head to the side to look down at your leg. Without lifting your head, you can see it's actually due to Jamie, whose deep breaths are blowing the green grass against your skin.

His hands lay limp next to him, and his deep blue eyes are hidden behind his lids as he attempts to calm his body the same way you are. Somehow, his body has landed a mere few inches from yours, and the heat radiating off of both of you should be overwhelming, but instead, it's actually deeply comforting. The ground beneath you is cool and soft, and Jamie's body beside you is warm and hard, tempting you to reach out and brush his skin the same way his breath fans yours.

The open palms of his hand is begging you to take it -- he's so close you could graze your fingers against his and he probably wouldn't even notice. While his eyes are still closed, you take your time to admire the sheen across his forehead, a strand of bleached hair sticking to his sweaty skin. His training top clings to his body, having rode up the same way it had before, and this time even more of his back is exposed. There's a dip down the middle of his spine, leading your eyes to the band of his boxers peeking over the waistband of his tiny shorts.

"Y/n?" Jamie sighs out your name.

"Mhm?" you hum back.

"Why are you staring at me? Do I have mud on my arse or somethin'?"

Jamie's words cause you to lift your head properly now, stretching your arms behind you and leaning back on your elbows. How did he know?

"What? I wasn't staring at you."

"Don't play dumb."

His words make you scoff and get defensive, despite being true; "I'm not playing dumb!"

"Yeah you are. I know you was staring at me... at my bangin' bod."

He has yet to open his eyes to look at you, but his words alone manage to bring a smile to your sweaty face as you accept defeat. A teasing smirk sits comfortably on his face, and you can't help but wonder what this man's actually genuine smile looks like. You can only imagine the way his eyes would crinkle, or maybe he's one of those people that scrunches their nose or bites their tongue.

"I wasn't staring at you..." you mumble, tipping your head back to take in the autumn sun. Hoping his eyes are still closed, you take the opportunity to move your right leg ever so slightly closer to Jamie's face, hoping it replaces your urge to touch his hand. Her doesn't seem to take any notice to your closer proximity, instead continuing to lay in your comfortable silence. You welcome the sun's heat as your body begins cooling down, but the entire right side of your body still feels wired and full of static. It feels illegal to be this close to Jamie in such a gentle moment, and it's almost wrong not to be touching him with such a proximity.

Suddenly, your face is cast in a dark shadow, forcing you to open your eyes. Roy towers over your sprawled out frame, arms crossed as he looks down at you and Jamie. "You two," he starts, grabbing Jamie's attention. He opens his eyes and turns onto his back, creating an unwelcomed distance between the two of you. You want nothing more but to reach out and pull him close again -- not even to touch him, but just to feel him there. "You both get a one hour break before we start divided training again. Well done this morning."

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut again, and you can tell Roy starts walking away by the way the sun returns to your face. With your arms out beside you, you wish this moment could last forever. You just want Jamie to roll back onto his stomach and reconnect the current that ran between your closely separated bodies. Did he feel it too?

However, instead of fulfilling your silent wish, you hear him hoist himself up off the ground with a grunt before coming to stand over you the same way Roy just had. Only opening one eye, you look up at him expectantly. You expect him to shoot you some cheap jab, but instead he shamelessly rakes his eyes over your body. Yet he didn't seem to be checking you out, he was simply just looking.

"What's with the sock thing? Why do you wear one down like that?"

"Uh," you say with a shrug. You're surprised he noticed it enough to ask you such a genuine question about it, expecting him to make fun of it. But he seems genuinely intrigued; "I've done it since I was a kid. It's a pressure thing. It just keeps me more aware of the leg I strike with. I don't like the wind getting in the way, y'know?"

"Yeah..." Jamie breathes out as he reaches a hand down to you. His agreement could mean anything, but he doesn't let you linger for long as he says: "I got you." And you're unsure if he means physically, or with your sock thing, or something more.

You slot your thumbs together, finally palm to palm, and you're on your feet before you can even process his touch, Jamie lifting you up with ease. Expecting him to drop your hand, you move your elbow back, but he doesn't let go just yet. Instead, he shifts the hold into a handshake, placing his free hand on your shoulder; "Pleasure doin' business with ya." he says with a goofy smile, and you fail to suppress the small giggle that escapes your mouth.

Jamie doesn't give you the time to think of a joke in return, simply dropping your hand and turning his back to you as he walks away. That bit of his back comes back to haunt you as he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, and you feel like collapsing all over again.

Digging the toe of your boot into the ground, you're well aware of the deep crimson blush creeping up your cheeks, and you know very well it's because of Jamie, but you still put it down to the exercise.

Training with Jamie feels like walking on a live wire -- he fires you up in all the right ways, and you know it, but that doesn't make it easier to admit out loud. Sure, you enjoyed today's training and the bickering made you want to fight for success, but having him in your home felt completely different. Sitting beside him on your cramped sofa, even though he was actually quite calm, it didn't feel right. So far, the electricity on the pitch has been nothing but exciting, but that's only because it was accompanied by an outlet. Off the pitch, the electricity between you two was more like a gaseous dangerous fuel, ready to explode at any moment. If there isn't something physical involved, your tension simply runs too high.

—

The next day looks practically identical, and so does the one after that, and the one after that... and soon enough, two weeks of mixed -- and Jamie -- trainings have passed.

Jamie's started giving you, Gia, and Isaac a lift to and from work almost every morning. But not without protest from you, of course, who stays completely silent with your noise-cancelling headphones turned up loud for every single car ride. Your name-calling and mean jabbing only got worse with each training with Jamie, and even Roy was struggling to keep up with how intensively you were training together.

Watching him win the drill challenges is almost impossible for you, your head going hot and nostrils flaring every time he rubs it in your face. And somehow, it was even harder to win against him since he's adopted a new catchphrase; "I'm not just a loser. I'm the loser."

The harder the trainings, the less time you spend checking him out and flirting with him during practice, your frustration running so deep you can't even stomach looking at him. His voice haunts you, even in your sleep, his thick accent coating his vicious digs playing on a continuous loop. Sure, your cortisol has never been higher, but your game has also never been better.

Now two weeks and two days into your updated training schedule, your priority is still the same: ignoring Jamie as much as possible. But it's not easy.

You're the first to finish the warmup lap around the pitch, folding your arms on top of your head as you bring your panting back to breathing. Will hands you your personalised Richmond water bottle with nothing but a polite smile. "Cheers, Will. Appreciate it." you reply before bringing the bottle to your mouth and popping it open with your teeth. As you chug down the cold water, you look around, seeing who's managed to catch up with you already. To much dismay but no surprise, Jamie is the second to arrive at the drinks table.

"Y/n," he says curtly, nodding at you with absolutely no emotion in his voice. But when he turns towards your kit man, he's all chat; "Mornin' Will! How's your mum doin'?" He takes his bottle from Will. "Good morning, Jamie. She's very well, thanks for asking." What the fuck?

"Y/n!" you hear a cheery voice behind you, and when you turn you spot Sam jogging towards you. Will effortlessly tosses him his water bottle and he thanks him with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Sam!" you say, beaming up at him. Sam squints one eye shut as he tilts his head towards the morning sun while drinking from his bottle, and you can't help but stare. He's practically glowing in the sunlight, positivity and joy radiating off him. Sam is irresistibly cute, and when he lowers the bottle from his mouth, the smile which emerges is blinding.

That's when you realise you hadn't looked away from him even once since he walked over. And quite frankly, you don't want to. So you continue to stare, shamelessly, allowing you to catch his eyes darting down to your lips, the movement so quick and subtle you fear you may have imagined it. You let yourself do to the same thing, flicking your eyes to his full lips, and you feel your cheeks start to blush.

"Why are you so red, y/n?" Jamie pipes up as he suddenly appears beside you and Sam, looking between the two of you. Your smile drops as quickly as it appeared, and both you and Sam dramatically roll your eyes.

"Fuck off, Jamie" you say, keeping your eyes on Sam's and changing the topic of conversation; "How are you today, Sam?"

"I'm great! What about you?" Sam replies sweetly.

"I'm doing amazing, thanks for asking!" Jamie interjects with a sarcastic, high-pitched voice. You take a deep, shaky breath, not wanting to lose your temper before the training has even started.

Without even looking at him, you reach your hand up to Jamie's chest and push him away, all while replying to Sam; "I'm good... it's been an unexpected but fun morning so far."

"Oh, fun-" Sam starts, but Jamie interrupts him again.

"We did have a fun morning! didn't we, y/n?"

With another sigh, and your palm still pressed against his rock hard pec, you finally drop your Sam-fueled smile and turn towards him; "Jamie, please."

"What, love?" he acts oblivious.

"Sam, just ignore him. Jamie gives me lifts into work and it's never actually that fun, trust me."

Sam forces a small laugh in response, successfully ignoring Jamie's presence by keeping his eyes on yours.

"Look, y/n, I was wondering..." Sam starts, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and diverting you away from the gobby shite beside you. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for dinner with me tonight?" Sam's words are smooth and confident, but not cocky, and his sugary tone makes your wide grin close into a shy smile. As you look up at him, you squint your eyes under the morning sun, hoping it looks somewhat cute rather than ugly; "I would love to, Sam."

"You'd love to what?" Isaac enters the conversation now, and you wonder if you and Sam will ever get the chance to talk without someone interrupting.

"I asked y/n to dinner this evening," Sam beams proudly, "Well, I asked her on a date," he looks at you and winks, and you subconsciously pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"No."

Your flirtatious expression falls immediately upon hearing Isaac's simple statement, and Sam's face does the same.

"No?" you both ask in unison. "Why not?" you whine.

"Because you need to focus on training," he unwraps his arms to point behind you, "with him."

You and Sam turn around and follow Isaac's point, your eyes landing on a zoned-out Jamie standing on the other side of the large group of players, chewing on the nozzle of his water bottle.

As you turn back to Isaac, you throw your hands up onto your hips; "Surely that's not going to affect my evening plans?"

Isaac rolls his eyes and turns away from you; "A no is a no." he says as he walks back towards Ted and Gia. You let out a loud groan, dropping your head back and looking up to the sky, hands fidgeting with the lid of your water bottle.

"I'm sorry, Sam." you say as you lift your head again, taking one hand off your bottle and letting your palm graze Sam's elbow, the gentle touch bringing a smile back to his face as he glances down.

"That's okay. If it's meant to be, it will be." Sam winks at you.

As if on cue, Roy shouts "Whistle!", gaining the attention of you and all the players around you. Everyone crowds closer, giving you the chance to glance back at Jamie, his mindless stare replaced by his fixed gaze on you. When your eyes meet his, he doesn't tear them away, flashing you a cocky grin before turning towards the coaches. You tsk to yourself, looking down at your boots with a shake of your head.

Fucking Jamie fucking Tartt.

For the rest of the day, the anger continues to brim inside you. Even Jamie is surprised by your heightened aggression as you tackle him in drills which don't even ask for it, and as much as teases you about your aggression, you don't tell him about Sam asking you on a date. On the one hand, you know that if you tell Jamie, he'll spend all day giving you and Sam shit for it. But on the other, something inside you wants to keep it a secret so you can continue to feel the burn of Jamie's eyes on your body every time you stretch in front of him.

That same burn scorches you as you leave the training centre, walking out to see Jamie leaning against his fancy car the same way he did the first morning he picked you up. He's wearing the same blue hoodie as that day, hands stuffed in his pockets while he keeps his eyes fixed on his pristine white trainers. Sensing your presence, he lifts his head and instantly directs his gaze towards you, raking his eyes from your shoes all the way up to your face as slow as possible. As you approach him, his neutral expression changes to yet another bold smirk, tilting his head back when his finally then land on yours. Everything feels like it's going in slow motion, suddenly feeling very aware of how you're moving under Jamie's careful stare. And once you finish the seemingly endless stretch to the car, you stop right in front of Jamie, sending him a challenging look.

"Can we go?" you turn towards Gia and Isaac as they approach you two, "The sooner we get home, the sooner I can say bye to this twat."

—

"Alright then, I'll be off." Jamie says as he you all clamber out of the car. You duck down in the open door of the passenger side, eyes meeting his deep blue ones, but you don't say anything. No 'goodbye', no 'see you tomorrow', not even a 'thank you'. Until, of course, Gia pipes up.

"Jamie! Why don't you stay for dinner? I'm making lasagna!"

"Yeah bruv, join us." Isaac adds, making his way towards you and Gia's front door.

Jamie's eyes don't leave yours as he blinks a few times, clearly trying to read your response to the offer but you just stare back at him with no emotion. On the inside, you're screaming at him and begging him to say no, but you continue biting your tongue.

"Eh..." his brows scrunch in confusion as he holds your gaze, amusement eventually flickering in his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I'll stay! Thanks so much."

His words are met with an eye roll from you, making him mirror the motion right back at you before you slam the door shut a bit too hard for how expensive the car looks.

Rushing inside, you drop your gym bag at the bottom of the stairs and slip your runners off, quickly joining Gia and Isaac in the kitchen as you swipe a brand new bottle of wine out of the fridge and placing it on the kitchen island. The frustration still bubbling through you is made evident to the others by the rattling noise your forceful movements cause when you pull the corkscrew out of the cutlery drawer. Unnecessarily, you stab it into the cork before spinning the top, but it just isn't going in far enough. So you twist, and twist, and twist.

If anyone asks what's going through your mind, you'd refuse to tell, those stupid thoughts about Jamie's bulging muscles on repeat in your brain -- in his stupid skinny jeans at Sam's restaurant, during training in those tiny shorts, and every time he leans against his stupid car. You zone out the flashing images, replaying today in your mind, finally landing on Sam again. He had smiled so sweetly when he asked you out, clearly having carefully planned the suggestion, and you wish you were in his company this evening instead of Jamie's.

"I'm sorry, but what's the difference between this and me going for dinner with Sam?"

As if on cue, Jamie appears at your side; "What?" His voice is smaller than usual, but you ignore it.

"Holy shit! Sam asked you out on a date?" Gia leans her elbows on the kitchen island.

"Yeah, but your boyfriend said no." you spit.

Isaac doesn't turn away from the lasagne he's preparing; "It was in the best interest of the team."

"Sam asked you on a date?" Jamie's small voice again, and the softness of his tone is so unfamiliar it pulls at your heartstrings. But that's not the point of this conversation, so you only answer Isaac: "How?"

Isaac stays silent, and with every second that passes, your blood just continues to boil -- and the stupid corkscrew still isn't working.

"Isaac, what the fuck! You were literally just trying to set me up with him!"

"He was?" Jamie's voice is almost a whisper now.

"Yes, Jamie. Yes he did," you turn to look at him, "He literally made it a whole thing at Ola's two weeks ago. Gia, please tell your boyfriend to stop fucking with my life!"

"Woah, woah, that's a pretty serious accusation!" Gia interjects, "Look, y/n. It's kind of my fault. I told Isaac to make sure you stay focused on your extra training with Jamie."

Nostrils flared, lips pressed tightly together and eyes narrowed, you stare at your best friend in disbelief. The pinch in your nose is familiar but unwelcome as your eyes blur, tears threatening to spill. Your blood rushes through your ears, head going hot as you stay completely still. No words come to you, only feelings of anger and betrayal. You get Gia wants you to play better, but forcing you to blow off Sam in order to spend even more time with Jamie? That's just too far, even for the love of the game. How is that supposed to make things fun?

Jamie steps closer to you, reaching a hand out to pull the wine bottle away from you; "Here, let me-"

"I've got it!" you snap at him, your tone coming out harsher than you intended.

"Alright then, love." Jamie mutters, no longer sounding meek. He puts his hands up in surrender while he turns away from you. Dropping your fists on the marble counter, you finally let out the groan you've been holding back all day, earning Jamie's attention as he turns his head back to look at you with a confused expression.

"Stop calling me love."

For once, Jamie's not the only source of your frustration, so it isn't entirely fair to let it all out on him. But it's too late to drop it now -- you're going to have to deal with whatever he's about to say.

"Listen, love," Jamie's voice drops to a low husk as he steps closer to you, leaning down to look you dead in the face. He stops when his face is only an inch from yours, making your eyes jump side to side to maintain eye contact with him. Despite having seen him dripping in sweat earlier, he now smells like clean laundry, a dash of lavender lingering on his skin. It's different from the cologne he usually wears, but the soft fresh smell is welcomed by your senses as you fight the urge to lean even closer towards his warm body.

"We were both forced into this training plan, so don't go thinking you're the only one with a grudge here. Do you really think I wanna spend every day trotting around with some lass who thinks she's better than me just because she's a star rookie in the headlines? You can think again."

Jaw clenched, you blink up at him, nostrils flaring as you hold back both screams and tears. His words sting, but the punch to your gut reminds you that he's right -- neither of you want to do this. You're not the only one who gets to be stubborn and angry. You're not the only one whose evening plans are ruined because of this training plan. And you're also not the only whose game is actually benefitting from this. But you can't let him know you agree, so you put on your bravest face, eyes narrowing as you stand up straight.

"I don't think I'm better than you, Jamie. I know I am. You're just a washed up prick who's jealous he isn't the only one in the press anymore. I knew all that talk about the team making you look good was bullshit!"

Jamie's eyebrows furrow as he cocks his head to the side, expression quickly morphing from frustration to amused confusion; "Hang on... isn't that what I said at that press conference a few weeks ago?"

Your stern features drop too, eyes widening at the realisation of what you've just said. Desperately thinking of a way to recover, your mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. Jamie's arrogant smirk returns, confidence clear in his change of demeanor. He takes in a breath, clearly loading up some snarky response, but he doesn't get the chance. You attempt to escape this hellish situation, moving to push past Jamie and beeline out of this suffocating room.

But you're stopped by the press of a large, warm hand on your ribcage, having walked straight into Jamie's outstretched arm. His grip was gentle, but it's like all the wind has been knocked out of you. Keeping your eyes on the hand on your torso, you muster up all the air you have left in your lungs to growl; "Let me through, Jamie."

"Why? So you can go to your room and watch my press interviews? Under your covers, in secret, like a little girl doing something naughty."

The words hit you like a freight train, knees buckling under your weight. And once again, Jamie's grip keeps you on your feet. The low, teasing lilt in his voice twist your stomach into a complicated knot, pulling together in both anger and arousal. No longer breathless, you're now practically gasping against Jamie's neck.

"Uhm..." Gia's strained voice breaks the awkward silence, a reminder that her and Isaac had indeed just witnessed that entire encounter.

"Gia!" Isaac fakes an innocent tone, "Would you also like some wine? I can grab all of us a glass, and Jamie can open the bottle, and then we can all cheers to how well the new training programme is working!" His ramble is completely uncharacteristic, his voice not even sounding like it's coming from his mouth.

Finally looking up from Jamie's touch, you stare into his eyes. His pupils are blown so wide they almost smother their deep blue colour. He doesn't look angry, or upset, but not cocky either. Shaking your head, you press your mouth into a thin line before pushing against his hand again, successfully breaking past this time and rushing straight up the stairs.

Crashing into your room, you slam the door shut behind you. You quickly walk around your bed, going right to your window, pushing it open. The cold autumn air is welcomed as you throw off your hoodie, every inch of your skin on fire. You pace along the window, fingers chaotically pushing through your messy hair. Puffing through your nose, the tears that brimmed your eyes downstairs have completely dried up, leaving only overwhelm in their place. Your knees buckle again, but this time Jamie isn't there to hold you up, so you slowly lower yourself to the floor, sitting in the breeze of the open window with your back pressed against the side of your bed.

With your knees pulled close to your chest, you rest your forehead on them, hoping that holding yourself in a ball will calm your nervous system down quicker. Screwing your eyes shut, you wish the buzzing in your veins to stop, but to no avail. Desperately, you take deep breath after deep breath, counting each inhale and exhale.

Two minutes in, your heart rate has finally slowed to a normal pace again, and the deep anger has melted down to pure exhaustion. You're no longer seeing red, your mind now calm enough to make sense of everything going on.

Gia and Isaac know what they're doing. If this wasn't working, Roy wouldn't let it continue. And if it wasn't good for the teams, both the women and men wouldn't have won the last two matches as easy as you did. But sadness still pools in your chest at the thought of Sam. It's been a long time since you've let someone in, and he's your safest option. He's deeply kind and so easy to talk to -- if only you were at dinner with him right now.

"Y/n?"

It's Jamie. You lift your head at the sound, voice once again unrecognisably soft. The sound sends goosebumps down your whole body, replacing the awful overheating feeling you've had all day.

"Sorry, eh- I would knock but my hands are full." he continues through the door.

You push yourself back to your feet, pulling the window shut and taking another deep breath. Your body feels weak, sore from all of the training and tired from holding so much anger. You have to trust Gia and Isaac. You have to give Jamie a chance.

And the next thing you know, your hand is twisting the cold doorknob. Opening it slowly, you're met with a coy-looking Jamie, two full wine glasses in hand. Without a word, he sends you a tiny empathetic smile and lifts the glasses up as a peace offering. His smile is sweet and seems genuine -- for once -- so you move aside and let him into your bedroom, hoping he doesn't do anything to tarnish your sacred space.

Heartbeat slightly speeding up, you watch him look around your room, eyes grazing over your perfectly made bed to the neatly organised desk across from it, before landing on the cork bulletin board hanging on the wall above said desk.

"No fucking way..." he whispers, and you can hear his shit-eating grin in his voice. Shit. Fully aware of what he's just spotted, you rush to close the door and step towards him, quickly taking one of the wine glasses from his hands and chugging half of its contents. The liquid runs down your throat with a welcomed burn, and you feel your body instantly rise in temperature again.

"Jamie-" you swallow thickly, the alcohol running through your veins and going straight to your head.

"Y/n y/l/n..." he grumbles, voice as low as it was in the kitchen. His sultry tone goes straight to your legs, turning them to jelly yet again. That coil retwists in your stomach too, and you can feel your face getting hot. The tension between you is so thick you can almost hear the electric hum in the air.

Jamie takes a large gulp of his own wine, fully turning towards you and stepping closer; "Is that me? On your bedroom wall?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," you try to give him attitude, but your voice cracks, breath hitching as Jamie stares down at you with dark eyes, "It's just a trading card."

Except he doesn't give up that easily, moving even closer to you. He towers over you, peering down at your face as he lets his eyes examine your features. Shamelessly, they move from your eyes to your forehead, dragging over your cheekbones and down to your jaw. No doubt you're blushing a deep crimson, watching as Jamie drinks you in.

"I came up here to check if you were okay, the last thing I expected to find was a picture of me pointed right at your bed."

"Fuck off. I supported Richmond before I played for them." you groan with rolling eyes, finding just enough of your voice to retort. God, Jamie has a special way of winding you up. His eyes still haven't returned to yours, scanning every inch of your face before reaching a hand up. Your breathing completely halts, stuck in the top of your throat as you await his next move.

His thumb slowly grazes up your hot cheek, sliding into your hair and pushing it behind your ear. Jamie doesn't drop his hand straight away though, letting his pointer finger run behind your ear before trailing along your jaw. Your lips part at the sensual touch, still holding your breath as his eyes continue to avoid yours. The usually charming blue of Jamie's eyes is now replaced by a deep, dark hunger as they move with his finger, eventually landing on your lips. Hooking his pointer finger under your chin, he tilts your head up, the movement bringing the breath back to your lungs. The sound that escapes your mouth alongside it is something between a whimper and a moan, and Jamie's eyelids flutter slightly in reaction. And when his thumb comes up to brush your bottom lip, all sense comes rushing back to you.

Quickly stepping back, Jamie's hand drops from your face. Breathless pants escape your still-parted lips, desperately trying to shake yourself out of the daze caused by the man in front of you. You lift your glass again, chugging what was left in the glass before setting it down on your desk. The buzz of the alcohol paired with the burning sensation Jamie's touch left behind on your skin makes your eyes blur, and after a few rapid blinks, you focus back on Jamie. Copying your movements, he chugs the rest of his wine too, keeping his hungry gaze on you the whole time. His chest rises and falls faster than normal as he brings a hand up to wipe at his lips, pulling your attention to them. As always, they're pouting, but not in the cocky way. Instead, they look soft and plump, tempting you into something you so desperately want but really, really shouldn't reach for.

But for the first time in a long time, you can't stop yourself.

You launch forward, fingers pulling Jamie's hoodie into your fists as you close the gap between you two, crashing your lips on his. Both of your mouths lap at each other hungrily, desperate to get as close as possible. Jamie somehow places his glass down on your desk before planting his hands on your waist. But they don't stay there, chaotically rubbing up your back before roaming down to your ass and squeezing. The thin fabric of your tank top hardly leaves anything between Jamie's touch and your skin, and you want nothing more but for him to rip it off of you. Your body is pressed flat against his, the loud ringing in your ears blocking out any sensible thoughts as you explore each other's mouths with your tongues.

The room is filled with both of your pants as you grab at each other. Your hands roam down his chest and under his Richmond hoodie, moaning as your fingers trace his abs. Jamie splays one large hand across your back while the other stays on your ass, holding you flush against his body as you wrap your arms around his neck again. His pull makes you change your footing, slotting your thigh against his crotch and immediately feeling a bulge against it.

Your eyes shoot open, going wide as you realise what is happening. Pulling your mouth off of Jamie's, you move your hands to his shoulders and nudge him away before darting back from him.

Out of breath from both the kiss and the shock, your jaw goes slack as you stare at an equally-breathless Jamie. You both hold your hands out in front of you, standing completely still.

"Shit." Jamie mutters.

"Fuck." you whisper.

———

thank you for reading and for your patience ily <3

NEXT CHAPTER IS SMUTTYYYYYYYY YAAAAY

-> part 4.

after sauntering towards him, some of the guys at his table greet you before swiftly returning to their heated discussion about which designer watch brand is best. but Sam doesn't have to say a word, simply snaking his arm around your waist, sliding his chair back a bit, and pulling you down onto his lap. your left hand finds its place on the back of his neck as you cross your legs, not worrying about your weight on his for even a second. he can handle all of you.

with your left hand playing with the small curls at the nape of his neck, the right decided to fiddle with the buttons of his silky shirt. as your fingers get to work opening the top two buttons, you lean in close to his ear; "having a good night, babe?"

Sam remains silent, looking up at you wide his big brown eyes and a sweet, tipsy smile on his face. his lips look soft in the warm glow of the restaurant, and you have to physically resist the urge to kiss him by turning your attention to the table's conversation. removing your hands from Sam's skin, you twist your body, leaning forward and placing your elbows on the table before resting your head against your intertwined hands.

"i quite like a good tissot," you interject, interrupting Colin and Isaac's cacophonous arguing. luckily, not only they, but the whole table goes silent, staring at you.

moving your ass side to side, you adjust the way you're sitting in Sam's lap slightly. and you're not sure if his hands shooting to your hips is because of the sudden male attention on you or because of your grinding.

"you know watches?" Isaac asks, dumbfounded.

"well, yeah. they're not that hard to know," you shrug, accidentally grinding down on Sam's lap again. this time, the hands resting on your hips squeeze down into your dress, fingers gripping you hard and lifting you ever so slightly.

with a guffaw, Colin responds: oh, well that's where you're wrong!" before going on some tangent about how niche the watch market actually gets. but your ears instantly tune him out, quickly becoming distracted by something poking your ass.

you take a quick glance at Sam over your shoulder, and your eyes immediately meet his wide ones. he's staring at you with an alert look in his eyes that you know all too well, and you're not long to catch on to what's happening beneath you. Sam has a boner.

sure, you could sneak off to the bathroom right now and fix his issue. but it's way more fun to leave him waiting.

"Sam, can i borrow your phone for a minute." you ask sweetly. he says nothing, keeping his eyes on you, but he tilts to the side to pull his phone from his front pocket. in doing so, you adjust yourself on top of him once again, making sure to move your ass down against him just that little bit more as you take it from him.

"tell me more, Colin." you urge the ranting footballer to continue his yapping, once again pretending to listen whilst you unlock Sam's phone and quickly order an Uber black for the two of you. Sam's fingers grip you impossibly tighter, trying desperately to shift you as subtly as possible. but you don't make it easy for him, continuing to lightly grind on him. the movement is so small it would be impossible to notice by anyone but your boyfriend.

you nod mindlessly at the footballers' words, them talking over each other when throwing out a bunch of foreign names you've never heard of. every few seconds, you take your chance to glance down at Sam's phone, watching as your lift home fast approaches.

just as it buzzes to alert you of the car's arrival, Sam sucks in a sharp breath, fingers wrapping around the sides of your ass and physically shifts you up off his rock hard dick. Richard is mid-sentence, but your ride is here and you know Sam is about to explode, so you quickly stand up; "I'm so tired guys, we gotta go. Good game today!"

Sam is quick to rise from the chair, and he uses you as his human shield to conceal his tenting trousers, pressing the hard bulge right up against the top of your ass. without even a wave to his teammates, he guides the two of you out of the restaurant.

he opens the car door for you; "you gonna make me wait until we got home, sweetheart?" he groans in your ear right before you duck into the vehicle.

"you know it." you say with a sweet voice and an innocent-but-cheeky grin.

"Y/n, I-" he starts, but you don't let him speak; "Hang on."

Holding a finger up to silence him, you keep your eyes glued to your ceiling. You suck in a breath; "Wait here."

Your feet move faster than your brain as you speed out of your room, past the stairs, and straight into the bathroom. Hands gripping the cold porcelain sink, it takes you a full two minutes to muster up the courage to look at yourself in the mirror. When you finally do, your eyes immediately drop to your lips, swollen from the kiss. Your face is bright red and flushed, and your physical reaction to something so stupid makes you clench your jaw, frustrated.

"What have you done?" you whisper to yourself, meeting your own eyes in your reflection and letting out a guttural groan.

Back in your bedroom, Jamie has perched himself on the end of your bed, eyes focused on the small picture of him on your wall. "Fucks' sake," you mumble, purposefully leaving your door open before leaning against the desk, facing him.

"Like I said," even though you finally manage to look at him again, Jamie doesn't look at you, "don't flatter yourself. Gia and I split a pack of trading cards and I kept yours. You're Richmond's top striker, and I want to be Richmond's top striker. You can't blame me."

Jamie finally shifts his focus from the card to you, and the blue in his eyes has returned as his pupils have shrunk. The thick tension between you starts to dissipate after your breaking of the silence, thank god.

"Yeah," Jamie finally responds, nodding his head before sheepishly glancing at his lap; "I had a poster of Roy on my wall as a kid."

His confession brings a small smile to your face. It oddly humanises him; imagining Jamie as a football-obsessed little boy who grew up to play with and be coached by his idol. Shame he grew up to be an arrogant prick.

The hot tension is slowly being replaced by awkward anticipation, and you need to put a stop to it. You shouldn't have let him into your bedroom at all. And you definitely shouldn't have let yourself be enticed by his stupidly handsome face. And his stupidly soft lips. And his stupidly big biceps, hands, and thighs. And Jesus Christ, you should've never put your hands anywhere near his rippling six pack.

But no take-backs -- you've put yourself in this mess, so now you have to get yourself out of it before dinner's ready.

Despite the embarrassment tinging your cheeks red, you gather all the dignity you have left to address what happened.

"I'm sorry I kissed you. I don't know what got into me."

"I'm sorry I kissed you back..." Jamie responds, both of you avoiding holding eye contact for too long, "and for grabbing your arse."

His words make your breath hitch, and you clear your throat in attempt to brush it off. But your heart rate has doubled again, feeling the ghost of Jamie's hands still on you.

"I'm sorry for touching your abs."

"I'm sorry for getting a boner."

The words may sound apologetic, but neither of you put any actual regret behind them. Tipping your head back again, you stare up at your ceiling and take a few deep breaths. For what feels like the millionth time, you can feel your chest getting hot and knees starting to give in, so you lean your hands on the desk behind you to stabilise yourself.

"Training was good, weren't it?" Jamie's voice should be neutral when saying that sentence, but the growl behind his words make you keep your eyes glued above you, scared that if you look at him you'll do something stupid again.

"Mhm..." you try to hum, but it comes out more like a whine. Fuck.

You dip your head down, switching your focus to your feet. The new angle shows Jamie shifting back onto his feet, and you hold your breath as you watch him take just one step forward. And that's all it takes for him to be right in front of you again. When he pushes his left foot between your feet, your breathing turns jagged. Without a second thought, you spread your legs a little bit wider, keeping your head down as you watch him step forward again, his left leg now squeezed between your thighs. Next, his hands come up, hovering next to your hips.

Thank god you're perched on this desk or else you'd be a puddle on the floor by now. No one makes your blood boil like Jamie Tartt, but you can't deny he's the first person in a while to make you this turned on.

Jamie's hands are held in the air beside you, and the electric current radiating from him sets you alight. The coil in your stomach twists tightly as you try so hard to resist the intoxicating buzz between your body and Jamie's hands. You know that the second you lift your head to look at Jamie, you're a goner. His hands will be on your hips in less than a second and you won't be able to stop yourself.

Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it.

Almost as if you've lost all control of your own body, you drag your eyes over Jamie's legs as you lift your head. And the second your eyes meet the returned tent in his joggers, your head rapidly pulls up. You hardly have to look in his eyes before Jamie's hands squeeze your hips and your mouths crash against each other, tongues immediately twisting together. Your teeth knock together as you moan into Jamie's mouth without a care. The sound makes him grunt too, squeezing his fingers around the fabric of your tank top as if he's stopping himself from ripping it straight off your body.

Reaching your own hands up, you finally let go of the desk, one hand finding the back of his neck while blindly hooking your fingers into the waistband of Jamie's joggers with the other, pulling him so close that you feel his hard-on poking your front.

Hands moving fast, you both feel up each other's bodies over your clothes. All rationality has flown out of the window as Jamie's silky tongue explores the inside of your mouth, and all you can hear is the wet sounds and small grunts coming from both of your lips. God knows how much time goes by before a different sound cuts through the groaning and smacking; "Guys! Dinner's ready!"

—

A mere 5 minutes later, the two of you were sitting in your spots on the sofa yet again, plates in hand. The whole evening was spent in complete silence, avoiding each other's gazes and only responding to Isaac and Gia with one-word answers. "What were you doing upstairs?" Gia had asked halfway through the meal. "Nothing." both you and Jamie answered in complete unison, keeping your attention on your dinner. It was nothing short of suspicious, but you hoped Gia would blame the awkward tension on the fight -- not on the make out.

That night, you barely slept a wink. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest, not a single method of relaxation helping you calm down. Your mind was just as busy as your body, mentally cursing yourself for kissing Jamie. And when you did finally drift into a half-sleep, your dream was just a replay of your 30 minutes with fucking Jamie fucking Tartt.

Your vow of silence continues into the next morning. Avoiding excessive conversation with Gia, only waving to Isaac, and saying absolutely nothing to the Mancunian giving you your routine lift into work. When you glance out of your window while getting dressed, you are surprised to see a messy-haired Jamie, dressed in an all-black tracksuit. The outfit is so different from his usual get-up that Isaac comments on it;

"What are you wearing, bruv? Y'alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, just didn't get much sleep." he mutters, perking your ears as you plop yourself in the back of his cramped car. As usual, you're sitting behind the driver's seat, hiding your face with your gym bag. But as Jamie speeds out of the driveway, your eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, meeting his. The memory of how his dark blues had looked at you while he was inside you flashes in your mind, forcing you to tear your eyes from the mirror and take a deep breath.

A hand rests on your shoulder; "Hey, is everything okay?" Gia whispers, and you do your best to paint a convincing smile on your face as you nod and say: "Yeah, of course. I'm just tired."

Your words cause Jamie to clear his throat, and you both flick your eyes to the rearview mirror again. This time, you recognise a playfulness in his eyes, emphasised by his subtly raising eyebrows. Even though you're shooting him daggers, you still have to try your best to suppress the strange fluttering feeling in your stomach.

Training has you properly nervous this morning, stuck in a loop wondering how you're going to be able to spend any time with Jamie. The girls are pure chaos this morning, the chatter and laughter ten times louder than usual -- unless it's just your busy brain overwhelming you. As you stare down at your boots, lacing them up, your fingers are trembling. The sound of your teammates blends together in a low hum, their words indiscernible, and it's not until you're on the grass pitch that your hearing returns.

Sam meets your eyes the moment you step into the cold morning air, smiling so wide it warms your chest. He waves, and a pang of guilt cuts through you as you wave back, trying your best to paint a genuine smile on your face.

"Alrighty folks, here's what we're gonna do!" Ted chirps, cutting through the noise of both teams. But whatever he briefs, you don't hear it -- the hum in your ears returning just as quick as it had left.

Jamie appears beside you. He matches your stance, both of you now standing with your hands behind your back, almost shoulder-to-shoulder. The heat radiating from him should be impossible in this weather, and the buzz it sends through your shoulder and straight into your chest makes keeping a steady breath a hopeless feat. Your lips part, a jagged sigh breaking through and puffing a cloud into the cold air, but you don't react any more than that. Jamie teasing you at work is simply a recipe for disaster.

So you say nothing. You just stand there and desperately hope that your focus comes back soon. Turning your full attention to your breathing, you count between inhales and exhales, squeezing your eyes shut and try your best to replace the memories of last night appearing behind your lids.

When you remember the soft feeling of his thumb grazing your cheek, you try to remind yourself of the way he spoke to you at Sam's restaurant. But you're quickly pulled to the memory of how hard the ridges of his muscles felt under your touch. So instead you think back to how much he bitched and moaned during your first training together, that childish pout painted across his face. But that only makes you think about his lips, and how forcefully they pressed against yours.

And as the tug-of-war continues in your mind, soon enough you run out of bad memories to outweigh the unbelievably flustering ones from last night. You're left borderline panting at your thoughts, eyes fixed on the quick puffs of mist coming from your mouth. The blood rings in your ears, face going hot, and when you bring your hands up to run your fingers over your smoothed-back hair you notice just how hard you're trembling.

The blushing face, heavy breathing, and trembling hands; are you worked up with anger, nerves, or arousal?

When your hands fall back down to your sides, the hope of finding an answer dissipates as you feel Jamie's fingers brush the back of your right hand. The touch is so light you worry you might be imagining it, but it doesn't matter whether it's real or not, because it still sends an electrical current through your entire body. Once again, purely out of nervous reflex, your hands fly up to your hair.

It's only seconds later when you feel that same large hand ghosting up your back, not touching you enough that you feel pressure on your skin, but the tug on your loose training shirt tells you enough. Suddenly your head tips back, caused by a slight pull on the end of your ponytail. But by the time you've registered Jamie's action, the whistle blows and he's darting towards Roy.

The group disperses, and Jamie leaves your side. You want your feet to move, but you feel like they're nailed into the ground. From the corner of your eye, you watch Jamie animatedly throw his head back as he talks to Roy, both of them starting their routine walk to the other side of the pitch. He seems annoyed about something. You know you should follow him to start your training, but while your whole body stands vibrating in place, the only thing you can do is focus your eyes on the tunnel leading into the centre. After sucking in a quick breath, you rush inside with long, unstable strides, ignoring any looks and comments coming your way.

After turning a few corners and dodging some Richmond staff, you finally reach the women's boot room. Stumbling inside, you realise you've been holding your breath the whole way there, making you pant as you pace up and down between two tall shelves. With your fingertips massaging your temples, you try to slow your breathing to the rhythmic sound of your studs hitting the ground with each step.

No hookup has ever made you feel this crazy. Hell, no one has ever made you feel like this at all. Your head hasn't stopped spinning since your lips first met Jamie's; his scent and warmth soaked into every inch of your skin. When he finally left yours last night, you had a scorching hot shower and even changed your sheets -- not that you got any actual sleep in your crisp new bedding. As much as it pains you to admit, there's no denying he isn't a good kisser. But under no circumstances can it ever happen again.

"Y/n? Are you in 'ere?"

"Fucks' sake..." you mutter to yourself, pacing coming to a halt, "Leave me alone, Jamie."

"What're you doing?" he trots in as if everything is completely fine, as if you aren't losing your mind all because of him.

"Nothing. Just go, I'll be out soon." you turn away from him, leaning your forehead on the grey wall in front of you. As you squeeze your eyes shut, you silently pray Jamie lets it go and leaves.

But alas, he's still Jamie.

"Oooh..." his voice drops an octave or two, "I see what's goin' on."

The clicking of his studs get louder and louder as he approaches you, not stopping until he's standing so close to you that he's almost touching you. The heat generating between your training kit-clad bodies is so overwhelming you can't help but puff out a deep sigh.

"Jamie-" you whine, completely prepared to lay into him. But a large hand pressing into your lower back interrupts you, its weight heavy as your breaths return to pants.

"Y/n," Jamie purrs in your ear, leaning his head down so you can feel his breath fan your skin, "Is this about yesterday?"

You're stubborn in your protest as you mumble out a weak "Maybe.", brain spinning from the proximity. Almost against your will, your head tilts ever so slightly towards Jamie's face, secretly hoping that the small movement will connect his lips with the side of your face. Instead, the only touch you feel is his right hand on your lower back spreading its fingers before drifting across your back and over your hip, leaving a burning sensation in its wake.

"D'you want it to happen again, y/n? Is that it?" the low rumble of his voice heats your core, and the hand slowly wrapping around the top of your leg isn't helping. Jamie's fingers splay over the front of your thigh, his chest now pressing against your shoulder blades as he applies slight pressure. The push from his hand threatens your knees to buckle, but with a small shift of your feet you regain your balance. Except now your ass is pressed fully against him, and the feeling of his member slowly starting to poke against you turns your vision blurry. His fingers creep over the crease where your thigh meets your hip, dangerously nearing your now-throbbing heat.

The closer his fingers get to where you need it most, the more your panting speeds up, and the sound quickly turns into small moans. Jamie clearly gains motivation from them, his left hand fiercely clutching your waist. The newfound security of his grip allows you to relax your weight into him, tipping your head back to lean on his shoulder. And Jamie doesn't ignore the way your neck stretches, giving him the perfect space to latch his lips onto, pressing hot kisses all over your tingling skin.

You officially lose all sense when Jamie presses his middle finger right to your clit, somehow expertly finding it through your shorts, before rubbing delicious circles over it.

"Fuck, Jamie-" you moaning his name comes suddenly, suprising both of you. You both temporarily tense up, but Jamie doesn't slow his fingers. In fact, he speeds them. Vibrations shoot through your body at the feeling, and despite the alarm bells ringing loudly in your skull, you involuntarily silence them with another small whine.

Jamie's warm lips lift from your neck, hovering over the shell of your ear as he whispers; "This alright, love?"

"Fuck..." you whine in both frustration and arousal, but before you can lie and protest, Jamie dives his fingers into your waistband. With a loud gasp, your hands fly up, one covering your mouth while the other reaches back to grab onto the back of Jamie's neck. He groans into your hair; "I think I asked you a question, y/n."

You lift your hand for a split second, just enough time to whisper a breathless "Yes."

"Yes to me having asked a question or yes to this being alright?"

You don't care enough to respond, simply rolling your eyes to yourself as you keep your mouth covered in fear of any more moans escaping. This is still the boot room after all.

"C'mon, love. Use your words." the low grumble accompanying his teasing tone makes your hips buck as you moan out an eager "Yes,". You instantly regret it, since Jamie's unsurprising response is to push your panties aside and dip his fingers in, running them from your clit, through your folds, and right to your opening; "You're fucking soaked, love."

But your regret doesn't last as Jamie dips the tip of his middle finger into your slick entrance, the feeling seemingly cutting off all the oxygen going to your brain. Feeling your head getting red hot, you have to manually tell yourself to keep breathing, completely overstimulated by the simple touch. He pushes the digit further inside of you at an agonisingly slow pace, and you can hear all of the blood rushing through your body as you lean your full weight against him. Jamie wraps his left arm around your side, pressing his hand against your stomach as he holds you up. The feeling is nothing but delicious; the combination of Jamie's thick finger curling up inside of you, his lips grazing your jaw, and his hand pushing flat against your lower stomach. God, this feels good.

"Jamie..." you moan out, dropping the hand that was covering your mouth and reaching it behind you. You push it between your bodies, reaching down until you're palming Jamie through his shorts. Now it's his turn to moan your name right into your ear, the sound only adding to your wetness. And Jamie definitely notices, as he speeds up until his finger is thrusting up into you at a blissful angle. Keeping up your stroking of his clothed cock is a struggle when you're melted like putty in his arms, but you're determined to make him as much of a mess as you are.

Spinning around in his arms and facing him again, he pulls out and holds his hands up beside his head in surrender, expectant eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. You do the same, studying his face for a few seconds. His eyes are dark again, just as they were last night, and his plump lips are parted slightly to let out his breathless pants. Mirroring each other, you both await for one of you to make the next move.

You take a step closer to Jamie, your heaving chests pressing against each other with every breath. Unblinking, he stares down at you. He seems hungry.

Just as you're about to hook your own fingers into his waistband, he starts lowering his hands. His left hand comes to your face, hooking his pointer finger under your chin and resting his thumb on your pouty bottom lip. The other goes to his own mouth, and you almost black out at the sight of him taking the middle finger that was just buried deep inside of you between his lips. His eyes don't leave yours for even a second as he sucks it into his mouth, making a spectacle of cleaning you off of his finger.

The sight makes your pussy go from pulsing to fully throbbing, clenching around the memory of Jamie's finger. Lips parting to an O-shape, Jamie takes the opportunity to dip the tip of his finger between them, grazing the edges of your bottom teeth. And just as you tilt your head forward, prepared to take his thumb in your mouth, he drops both of his hands to his sides.

Struggling to lift your head back up, you stare at Jamie In absolute disbelief. As your consciousness returns to your body, you register the layer of sweat all over your body. You're hot with arousal, frustration, and a deep embarrassment. Jamie can read your shame all over your face while your eyes widen, and he mirrors your expression.

Just like last night, your voices are raspy as Jamie mutters "Shit." and you whisper "Fuck."

—

If it wasn't for you pushing past Jamie and beelining back to the pitch, who knows how far you would have gone with him. You trained alongside Jamie in complete and utter silence -- refusing to even glance in his direction as you tried to push every nervous twist out of your stomach by running quicker than him, kicking harder than him, and doing more reps than him.

Which is of course why, when Gia and Isaac let you both know that they had to stay back longer at the training centre for a meeting with the coaches, your heart rate acts like you've just been on a sprint. How could you possibly ignore your sexually deviant morning-act when alone in a car with him for the entirety of a 15 minute drive?

And that's the question running circles in your head as you drop yourself into Jamie's plush leather passenger seat. You've never been in the front of his car; you're used to the safety of the driver's seat separating the two of you. But now, his pinky is but an inch away from you as he pulls the gear stick out of park.

With a blank expression, you stare down at his hand. His thumb rubs small circles on the leather seam covering the gear stick, and the sight makes your breath hitch. That's the same thumb you almost sucked just this morning. This memory pulls your eyes towards his right hand, resting casually on top of the steering wheel as he expertly manoeuvres out of AFC Richmond's car park. And that's the hand that was dug inside of your shorts as he fingered your wet cunt.

The memory makes you adjust in your seat, hands squeezing the bag in your lap tightly as you move your gaze out of the window in front of you. Don't say anything. Don't say anything. Don't say anything.

"So..." Jamie starts, an awkward-yet-teasing lilt in his voice, "I think we should talk about earlier."

You take a deep breath in, pursing your lips together for a moment before putting on your most convincing tone; "There's nothing to talk about."

"Eh, I'm not gonna lie, y/n. I think me fingering you in the boot room first thing in the morning should be talk about."

"What is there to talk about?" you stubbornly repeat, "We're just going to forget it happened and move on."

Jamie barks out a loud laugh, making your head snap around to look at him. He glances at you with an amused glint in his eye; "D'you really think I can ever forget fingering a girl in a boot room? I've fingered in a lot of places but that was definitely a first."

"Oh my god! Stop saying the word fingering! You barely even fingered me!" your voice comes out a loud, frustrated squeak.

"Barely fingered you?" Jamie mocks, "You were like two seconds away from cumming!"

"Oh please. You wouldn't know what a real orgasm looks like if it hit you in the face."

Your words only pull more laughter out of Jamie; "Well, y/n. I'll have you know that I've had quite a few orgasms hit me in the face."

After letting out a loud, immature groan, you stare at his smug face in a mix of disbelief and disgust. With a smirk glued on his lips, Jamie keeps his eyes on the road. And if you didn't know any better, you're pretty sure he's reliving those facial orgasm memories right now.

"Ugh," you attempt to break his trance, "You are unbelievable."

"Yeah, unbelievably good at making people cum."

"Oh yeah?" sarcasm drips from your voice.

"Yeah." Jamie's very good at making single words sound extremely cocky.

"Prove it."

Your words don't register until they've left your mouth. Squeezing your lips together tightly, you turn your attention back to the familiar road in front of you, hoping that in some magical way Jamie didn't hear you.

With your heart beating even faster than when you got in the car, you can't tell how many seconds of silence actually pass until Jamie finally speaks up; "Prove it?"

Now it's your turn to stay quiet for almost a full minute before saying; "No," sheepish at first, before scoffing another "No."

"No?" Jamie repeats again.

"I was kidding! It was a joke!" you laugh, completely unconvincing to both you and Jamie.

Now the car officially falls into a deeply awkward silence. If only Jamie hadn't kissed you yesterday -- or did you kiss him? You don't even remember how it happened. All you know is that ever since it did happen, you haven't been able to shake the buzzy feeling moving through every nerve in your body. The buzz has only become more overwhelming since this morning, a permanent ringing lingering in your ears during the day.

Maybe there was some truth to your words. Maybe you do want him to prove it.

The car bumps over the curb of the pavement as Jamie drives into you and Gia's driveway. Pulling the handbrake, he stops the car in the exact same place he always does. On any other day, you unbuckle your seatbelt as quick as you can and get out of the car without a word. But today, you can't bring yourself to move at all.

You and Jamie continue sitting in complete and utter silence.

His hand stays between you, once again resting on the gear stick. Your eyes are drawn to it, and the sight of his thick fingers have you sucking in a deep breath. The tension in the car is so sharp you could cut a knife. The longer you two sit beside each other like this, the more you can feel your core dampening. And when you notice how hard Jamie is gripping the round head of the gear stick, your heartbeat moves from loudly beating in your ears to pulsing in your heat.

It's undeniable and unspoken -- you both want him to prove it.

"Follow me." you say stern and curt, not looking at Jamie once between getting out of the car, unlocking your front door, and darting up the stairs. Jamie obeys, following you without a word.

Once you're in your bedroom, you quickly check find my friends to see Gia and Isaac are already on their way home.

"Fuck."

"What?" Jamie's voice sounds rushed and even a bit needy.

"Gia and Isaac are walking home."

"What the fuck? I would've waited for them."

Instead of wallowing in horny frustration, you discard your phone on your bedside table and look Jamie dead in the eyes. His pupils have darkened his blue eyes, and his eyebrows are furrowed in a look you can only describe as disappointed. His posture is shy and boyish, as if you weren't eating each other's faces in this exact spot a mere 24 hours ago.

Hatred roars through you, blood running hot. You hate Jamie. You hate all the different ways he makes you feel. You hate how much he consumes your mind, and his cruel words, and how good he is at football, and his ego, and how good he smells, and how amazing his hands felt on your skin, and how there's nothing you want more right now than to jump his bones.

"They'll be home soon," you choke out curtly. Jamie's hands politely fold over the raging hard-on you hadn't noticed. He stares back at you with expectant eyes; "Eh... do you know how long it'll take them to walk here?" he says quietly.

"About half an hour." you shrug casually, as if you're not soaking wet in front of your rock hard enemy.

Said enemy pulls his eyebrows up high, mouth curving into a pensive frown as he looks you up and down. Your expression stays hard, trying so very hard to resist your next move. But to no avail, you turn to your nightstand, pulling a condom out of the drawer before holding it out to Jamie; "I need you to prove it. I need you to fuck me."

He darts forward, eagerly snatching the condom from you, but you're quick to snatch it back: "But!" you say, making him roll his eyes at you, "But... you need to make sure I actually cum. Nothing half-arsed. You need to prove why you have such a big mouth." Jamie's about to smugly interrupt you, but you continue; " And I know you'll probably shoot your load within 20 seconds but you only have 30 minutes to make me do the same. Then we're going to go back to hating each other and training together and never speak about it again. It's gonna be like it never happened. Deal?"

"I have to make you cum in half an hour?" Jamie repeats in question, looking at you in disbelief.

"Yes," your words stay frank as you continue, "If you don't think you can do that then just go home."

Jamie saunters towards you, taking the condom from you again and holding it up to you between his pointer and middle finger. He towers over you, causing you to look up at him through your lashes. You hope you look somewhat unphased, but when his starving eyes turn dark again, you know you're a lost cause.

His lips ghost yours; "Y/n, love," he grumbles, "I can make you cum much quicker than that."

You gasp as he quickly scoops you up by your thighs, lifting you and dropping you across the mattress. Not wasting any of your precious time, you both strip yourselves down completely between messy kisses. Jamie props one knee on the mattress, his big and hard cock staring at you as you sit up on your elbows. He brings the condom to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth, momentarily snapping you out of your horny daze so you can roll your eyes at him.

"Does that usually impress the ladies you sleep with?" you tease, biting back a flirtatious smile in the hopes you still look unphased by the buzz between you two.

"How would you know who I'm sleeping with?" he questions you, sending you a stubborn know-it-all look. You can't help but giggle, completely enthused by the situation you've found yourself in, the anticipation both exciting and scary.

Jamie's quick to appear above you, positioning himself between your legs. As he reconnects your lips together feverishly, his hand comes down to your slick heat, sliding two fingers in with ease. You don't bother fighting back your loud moans as he works you open, not needing to do much before you're putty in his hands once again.

"Fuck, Jamie." you mumble in the few seconds he pulls away from you to line himself up with your entrance. And when he finally pushes his rock-hard dick in you, you gasp loudly, hands flying up to grip his arms supporting him beside your head.

As he starts to thrust, Jamie kisses you deeply, mouth completely covering yours, whining against your lips as he ruts into you. The kiss is something of pure hunger, moving at the same quick rhythm as his hips. Hands roaming Jamie's rock hard biceps and shoulders, you revel in the full feeling he gives you, blissfully allowing yourself to forget who is actually inside of you as you repeatedly moan your encouragement.

But that bliss doesn't last long, interrupted by him moaning your name into your mouth. Finding his pecs, you push against him slightly, causing him to lift his mouth off yours immediately.

His movements come to a halt, eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. But all you can do is stare back at him in absolute disbelief; and the once-again daunting realisation that Jamie Tartt is inside of you right now makes you hate yourself.

"Y'alright, love?" his voice is drenched in concern. Love. God, that pet name. The word makes you clench around him so tightly that Jamie's eyes briefly roll back, and the flustered sight of him only makes you squeeze his dick tighter. The angry arousal boiling inside of you clouds your brain as you squint at him in challenge before using his shoulders to pull yourself up and off of him, turning both of you and pushing him down so he's now flat on the mattress.

You keep your eyes away from his, glued to how his hard cock hits his lower stomach. Wrapping your fingers around it, you pump your hand excruciatingly slowly, studying how flexed his abs are as you do so. Jamie's hands grip the sheets, tugging them so hard his knuckles turn white. He's still wearing his watch; "How long do we have?" you ask him, seemingly unphased by his moaning and writhing. But you'd be lying through your teeth if you said the reaction your touch has on him doesn't make you even wetter.

Jamie sputters out a laugh as he glances at his watch; "We have 16 minutes." he grunts.

"Perfect," you whisper, climbing on top of him while straddling your legs on either side of his massive thighs. You waste no time sinking down on his cock, all the way to the hilt, and you moan loudly at the feeling.

"Sssh, darlin'," Jamie whispers back, quickly sitting up and pressing a hand over your mouth, "Can't have the neighbours hearin' you, can I?"

The new position buries him even deeper inside of you, the new angle making your body tense even harder. Planting your hands on Jamie's shoulders again, you use the broad muscles to bounce yourself up and down slightly, taking time to grind your pelvis down on his every few thrusts. Moans threaten to burst through Jamie's fingers still covering your mouth, and your whole body grows more sensitive by the second. The hand that isn't covering your mouth is splayed on the top of your ass, adding more pressure to your movements.

The longer you bounce and grind and squeeze, the more your mind fogs over, blood rushing through your body at a rapid pace. Even your ears start to ring as all rational thinking flies out the window. You grab his wrist and tug it so his palm pulls off your mouth. Just like this morning, you're desperate for his thick fingers again. So you twist his hand, taking his pointer and middle finger in your mouth. Jamie stares at your face, absolutely dumbfounded by your actions.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you suck on his fingers, silencing your own moans by pressing them down on your tongue before licking between them. The heavy feeling of him in your mouth makes your head spin, and seeing as the hand on your ass goes limp and slides down, it's safe to assume Jamie's not thinking straight either. Both of your movements turn sloppy as you desperately chase your high, wet sounds filling the room coming from your mouth as well as your pussy. Jamie's fingers rest under your ass now, pulling you even further open around his dick. Your stomach clenches, tugging on the already-sore muscles caused by your intense training earlier today, and you know you're getting closer and closer to your climax with each swallowed moan.

Slick with your wetness, Jamie's hand slides from beneath you over your thigh, before gripping the crease at the hip and rubbing his thumb over your clit. You jolt on top of him, letting the fingers in your mouth slip further towards your throat. Finally letting your eyes meet his again, you're surprised to see his gaze is focused on your mouth, a deep blush painting his cheeks as he watches you deepthroat his digits. Like a man possessed, his soft dark eyes hardly blink. He's even failed to notice your own eyes have opened. Which is why you take it upon yourself to rake your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands to tip his head back. The movement makes his gaze drag up over your face, finally landing on your own glazed over eyes as you continue taking his fingers in your mouth and his cock as deep as possible in your heat.

The deep blue of Jamie's eyes has basically disappeared behind his blown-out pupils, and your chest fills with pure bliss as you stare at each other. His thumb is still drawing delicious circles over your clit, and both of your heavy breaths mix against each other.

Suddenly, the coil in your stomach comes to a painfully taut twist, and your orgasm hits you like a freight train; "Fuck, fuck, Jamie, fuck," you curse his name as you completely freeze, Jamie continuing the quick pace of his thrusts and movement of his thumb as he watches you cum with wide eyes. Pushing his fingers that little bit further into your mouth, the delicious combination of his thick cock and thick fingers both fucking into you at once makes your eyes roll back. All the air leaves your lungs as your climax waves through you, and you're left convulsing on top of Jamie, pussy clenching around his cock uncontrollably as the aftershocks of your intense orgasm pass.

You pull Jamie's fingers out of your mouth, head falling limp on his shoulder with him still buried deep inside of you. Blood rushing to your ears and eyes blurring, it's as if you've lost all of your senses.

"Fuckin' hell, y/n." Jamie pants, hands snaking around your back to hold you close to him.

Your breath fans his neck with the small laugh that escapes your mouth. As you catch your breath, you drag your fingertips over his muscular torse, tracing the sculpted edges of his abs and pecs. But it's only when your fingers drop down to the bottom of his stomach that you remember; "Wait, Jamie," you lift your head up to look at him, "Did you even cum?"

"Oh, love..." he grumbles with a chuckle, grabbing the bottom of your thighs, standing up and turning around, lifting you off his cock with utter ease, before gently laying your weak body down on the bed. Pushing up onto your elbows as Jamie takes a step back, your bare naked body suddenly feels vulnerable under his smug grin; "I came 10 minutes in."

———

-> part 5.

"hi," you say softly.

"guys? what's goin-" Ted starts, but is interrupted by one of the boys finally speaking up.

"hello, it's so lovely to meet you," he walks towards you with one hand outstretched and the other on his chest, "I'm Sam Obisanya."

"it's nice to meet you, Sam," you take his hand in yours, looking up at his deep brown eyes, "I'm y/n."

you try to project your voice so the rest of the room can hear your name too, but you quickly forget about the full room of men you're standing in. your full focus is on Sam and his soft palm pressing against yours firmly, and your eyes are drawn to his smile. his lips look soft, smile beaming as the wrinkles reach the corners of his eyes. it doesn't sound like he was lying when he said it was nice to meet you, since he genuinely looks more than delighted to be shaking your hand in this moment. this definitely isn't the kind of guy you expected to meet on an English soccer team.

"y/n, this is Nate," Ted interrupts, "and you already know Beard."

out of the corner of your eye, you can see a short man walking towards you with his arm also reaching out for a handshake. this is when it dawns on you that your hand was still in Sam's, and your eyes had yet to leave his.

"uh-" you mumble, forcing your smiling mouth to close and letting your hand slip from Sam's grip. the air in the room became even more awkward as you turned to greet Nate, giving him a meek smile as you shook his hand.

you could still feel the eyes of more than twenty men on you, but after dropping Nate's hand, your gaze found its way to Sam on the right side of the room. his smile now changed from beaming to soft and warm, you need to physically stop your eyes from lingering on his lips by turning your back to the room and walking into the coaches' office. peeking in, you pretend to scan the room and examine its decor, pointing at a random poster on Ted's wall and smiling as if you recognise who's on it.

"okay," Ted drawls, shaking his head, clearly not oblivious to the awkward tension you've caused, "well, y/n is gonna be stayin' with me for the week and is gonna watch you guys practice today."

"only if that's okay with everyone!" you quickly add, holding your hands up in front of you in defence. a chorus of mumbled yes's and nods fill the room, some of the players returning back to their prep before training as they lose interest in your presence.

"coach, it is so lovely to have your cousin here to support us during training. thank you very much for introducing us to your family." an accented voice finally breaks through the crowd, and everyone turns to look at a long haired man towards the back of the room.

"thank you, Dani." Ted answers, and you repeat the sentiment while sending him a smile.

"I'm sorry about that, y/n," he continues once you're out in the hallway, "I guess they spend so much time with each other that they forget women exist!" he nervously combs a hand through his hair before pointing you towards the training pitch; "let's go."

"see you all on the pitch." Ted states with a slight voice crack before ushering you out of the locker room. you glance behind you as you get pushed out, catching a glimpse of another player smacking Sam on the shoulder and shaking him a bit, clearly congratulating him for his interaction with you. English boys are something else.

once through the doors of the training centre and onto the pitch, the cold hits you quickly and you can feel your nose turn red in the winter air. you follow Ted up into the small bleachers and choose a seat which lines up to be right in the middle of the pitch.

"you stay here, y/n. don't need you causing any more awkward silences." you and Ted share a laugh as you get as comfortable as you possible can in the plastic red seat. you're not left waiting for very long, all the players you'd just seen walking out onto the field in small groups.

they're laughter and chatter makes a smile creep up your face, a smile that only grows when Sam appears. he instantly drops his conversation when he feels your eyes on him, turning his head and immediately finding you in the stands. a smug smile appears on his face as he sends you a subtle wink, the gesture making you bit your lip as you sink further down into your seat.

using your scarf to hide your blushing cheeks definitely came in handy during the 2 hours of training you watched. except, you weren't really watching the training, you were mostly focused on Sam Obisanya. you just couldn't get enough of his smile, and he clearly loved smiling since it didn't drop from his face even once during the training, even when he messed up. eyes glued to him, you examined every part of him, cursing the cold weather for being the reason he's wearing a full tracksuit, making you use your imagination for some parts. there was some moments where Sam would glance up at you, that same signature smile warming you up.

the daydreaming and occasional cups of tea brought to you by Will made the time fly by, and soon enough you were strolling through the training centre waiting for Ted to take you for lunch. you admire the awards and trophies in the cabinets, as well as the old newspaper clippings framed on the walls, and you start appreciating the second home Ted has found across the pond.

your eyes land on a large sticker of one of the Richmond players, and you realise that they're on the walls all the way down the hallway towards the exit. following them like candy on a trail, you start for your search for Sam's sticker. on your way down the hallway, you see the blond who had stared at you with an open mouth earlier, the sweet long haired man, and a few stickers featuring faces that stuck out to you in the locker room. as you pass them all, you stare them down with furrowed eyebrows, and you almost give up your search before you turn the final corner.

right beside the reception desk, you find the man you'd been looking for. except, instead of finding a picture of him plastered up on the wall, you instead find the real Sam leaning against the tall reception desk next to the exit. you stop in your tracks, suddenly overheating in all of your winter layers, and you stare at him with wide eyes.

"are you okay, y/n?" he asks with an amused look on his face.

"uhm- yes, yes. I'm okay," you force a small smile onto your face and stuff your hands into your coat pockets, desperate to hide your embarrassment, "are you okay, Sam?"

your words make him laugh as he pushes himself off of the desk and takes a few steps towards you. his expression softens the closer he gets to you, the big grin he usually wears now melting into a warm closed-mouthed smile.

"I'm okay," he speaks quietly, he's close enough for you to hear it loud and clear, and the tone of his voice sends shivers up your spine.

"that's good," you reply shyly, not sure what to do with yourself. your hands are still shoved in your pockets, and Sam's are too, but all you can think about is what is touch felt like against yours when you met this morning.

"are you waiting for Coach Cousin?"

a cackle suddenly comes from your throat, all the nervous energy bursting out at once, taking both you and Sam slightly aback. but you manage to wave it off, answering his question with a more self-confident voice; "yeah, yeah, we're going for lunch together."

"will you be back for our next training?"

"no, actually, I think I'm just going to explore Richmond a little bit."

"what if," Sam draws the words out as he leans forward, bumping a shoulder to yours, "you just come back after lunch and I can take you around Richmond when I've finished for the day? maybe I can take you for dinner afterwards."

his voice pitches up sweetly at the end of his question, his soft smile slowly growing to a beaming one again. the question makes your heart rate double, and you can feel how red you're going as you consider what to say next.

"are you asking me on a date, Sam?"

"I'm not sure Ted would appreciate me asking his cousin on a date, but, maybe we can keep it a secret?"

"keep what a secret?" Ted interrupts, walking up to the two of you with his thumbs looped around the straps of his backpack. his smile is polite and oblivious as he glances between you and Sam.

"keep it a secret that I will be coming back to watch the second training later!" you chirp before Sam can speak, drawing your mouth into a tight smile as you hope Ted doesn't ask why.

"alright!" he exclaims, smile widening, "such great team spirit, y/n!"

"yes, y/n," Sam speaks suspiciously, "you have such a focus when watching us train. almost like you always have your eye on the prize." he smirks down at you as you open and close your mouth a few times as if gasping for air.

"like cousin, like cousin!" you saw with a fake grin, eyes avoiding Sam's knowing look, "okay, Ted, let's go!" you start towards the door, hoping Ted is following you.

"bye, y/n. I cannot wait to see you this afternoon!" you hear Sam call behind you, but you stay facing forward, desperate to get outside so you can blame your blush on the cold.

when Ted catches up with you, the confusion is clear in his voice as he asks: "why would your presence have to be a secret?"

"oh, you know," you answer without looking at him, "wouldn't want me attracting any more of the boys' attention."

Ted hums in agreement as he falls in line with your fast-paced steps through the car park; "it sure does look like you've already caught someone's eye."

shaking your head with a furrowed brow, you scoff dramatically at Ted's words. "don't be crazy, Ted. I'm just visiting."

"maybe you should extend that visit while you still can."

--