Chapter Text
Roy would like it on the record, if there was a record, that he didn’t go looking.
He was down at the local, which he normally refrained from doing but sometimes he pulled a hat down to his eyebrows and indulged. The bartender recognized the name on his card but left him alone. Maybe everyone else in the room recognized his face and were leaving him alone out of basic fucking manners.
Not likely, but maybe.
He finished his second pint and called it a night, even though it was barely dark yet. He was walking back to his place, humming something the lads had played in the locker room earlier that day, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He stopped to check it, moving to the edge of the sidewalk and leaning against the brick side of a building. A text from his sister, asking if he could take Phoebe the next afternoon; they went back and forth for a few minutes hammering out details. When things were set, he put his phone back in his pocket and took the first step down the sidewalk again, only to stop as he realized someone was standing a few meters up the way, watching him.
It was a young man, wearing jeans so tight Roy could see the square and circle of a condom in his pocket. He also wore a white t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and the collar torn out, neckline dipping low on his chest to show well-waxed pecs. Dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, arched eyebrows with a line shaved in one of them. Staring at Roy with a little smirk playing on his lips.
“Can I help you with something, mate?” Roy asked, shifting his weight so he’s ready to either bolt or throw a punch, whichever came up needed.
The man laughed softly and shrugged. “Was going to ask you the same thing.”
Roy frowned, mentally moving his preparation closer to punching. “Don’t know what you’re on about. Maybe you should mind your own business and let me mind mine.”
“That’s fair. If that’s what you want.” Lad’s got a Mancunian accent that could peel paint. “Just had a hunch that maybe it wasn’t what you want.”
Roy should just flip the man off and walk away. “And what do you think I might want instead, after a few minutes of creepy staring?”
Another soft laugh. “You’re a bit thick, aren’t you, mate? I’m asking if you’re looking for a date tonight.”
It took a minute for that to click in Roy’s head. A bit thick indeed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nothing wrong with getting your needs met, mate.” Big grin, easy shrug. “My name’s Jamie.”
“That’s nice. My name is none of your fucking business.”
“That’s fine. Lots of people like it that way.” Jamie licked his lips, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “What do you say?”
Roy swallowed, not sure where his ability to tell some random prick accosting him on the street to just fuck off had gone. “I say I’m not in the habit of taking strangers back to my house.”
“Didn’t say anything about going to your house.” Jamie tilts his head toward the nearby buildings, and Roy realized that an alleyway ran down between them. “Got some privacy over there, if you don’t mind the bins.”
Roy should not be considering this. Two beers could not be enough for him to be considering this. He never did this before; why now, when he wasn’t a golden boy any longer, when he couldn’t claim the sense of invincibility that a star could have?
Christ, it was a cliché to blame it on being old and bored.
“How much?” he asked, cutting to the weird fucking chase.
Jamie named a number with a wide smile and utmost confidence. Roy had that in bills in his wallet.
“All right,” he said, echoing Jamie’s nod toward the alley. “You’ve got yourself a date.”
**
Behind the bins, the pavement disgustingly sticky under his feet, which meant it had to be positively ruining the lad’s absurd tight jeans. Because Jamie had gone down to his knees easily, as soon as they reached the space behind the bins, even before Roy had found a place to stand where he could brace himself against the wall and take his weight off his bum knee.
“There we are,” Jamie murmured, running his hands up and down Roy’s thighs. “Good to have you here.”
“Yeah, well, you were persuasive, I guess.” Roy started undoing his belt, and Jamie’s hands came up to help him. “Let’s not waste time talking, I don’t particularly want to draw attention back here.”
“Yes, sir.” The belt out of the way, Jamie’s long fingers slipped the button and tugged the zipper down, then dipped down in Roy’s briefs to guide his cock up and out. It was all very quick and efficient, fabric pushed out of the way, cock stroked to hardness, and then Jamie’s mouth closing around him, hot wet tight with a fucking active tongue.
Roy closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, lips parting in a little gasp. It had been a while—not ridiculously long, but a while. He wasn’t going to go off like a teenager or anything, but he wasn’t exactly going to cover himself in glory, either.
Might cover the lad’s face in glory, though.
Bad joke, but he couldn’t help laughing to himself, until that broke off in another gasp as Jamie took him deeper. His hand went to Jamie’s head, fingers curling into the dark, soft strands of hair, petting and then tugging a bit.
Jamie pulled off slowly and took a deep breath before looking up at him, eyes wide and unreadable in the alley lighting. “You can pull if you want. You can fuck my throat if you want. Choke me on your fat cock.”
There was something about the matter-of-fact way he said such a dirty fucking thing that made Roy’s stomach tighten. He pushed at Jamie’s head and Jamie obediently went down on him again, sucking slowly, teasing as he took Roy’s length in more and more. And Roy kept pushing, silently guiding him not to stop until Jamie couldn’t go any further, his nose buried in the wiry black curls at the base of Roy’s cock.
For a moment Roy felt frozen and exposed, like he’d slipped through a gap between the universe he knew and understood and somewhere else, where the rules were just a little bit different and things were a step to the left of where he expected them to be.
Then Jamie swallowed around him and Roy’s stomach went hot and tight, muscles clenching as he slid close to the edge of his orgasm.
He pulled Jamie’s hair this time, reversing his previous demand, hauling him back off his cock before replacing the wet heat with his own hand, calloused and awkward. He held Jamie still like a kitten, and Jamie laughed under his hold, leaning in close and closing his eyes properly so Roy could come on his face in a hot rush.
Roy closed his eyes, head bumping against the wall again, and for a moment he let himself fall in that space between worlds, unmoored and lost, disconnected from everything. When he had his breath back and opened his eyes again, he looked down at the man on his knees on that filthy pavement.
Roy’s fingers were still tangled in Jamie’s hair, and Jamie was obediently still, head tipped back a bit to ease the pull. His eyes were still closed, Roy’s come caught in his lashes and eyebrows, streaked across his full, pouty mouth, dripping off his chin.
“Fuck,” Roy said, the word emerging as a growl. “Oh, fuck.” He let go, jerking his hand away like Jamie had burned him.
Jamie got to his feet, brushing the wet muck off his knees as if that was going to do any good for his jeans. He licked his lips slowly, clearly as a show for Roy, before he pulled his t-shirt up to wipe his face. “Very nice, mate. You’ve got a lovely cock.”
“Thanks.” Roy wiped his own face on his sleeve, very aware that it was only sweat and shame that he was cleaning away. “Here, I…”
There wasn’t any way to end that sentence. He just dug his wallet out, counted the bills Jamie had requested and adding another as atonement, then handed them over.
Jamie flicked through them, offered a broad smile, and tucked them away in the back pocket of his jeans. “Thanks, mate. Your generosity means I can knock off early.”
“Glad to help.” Roy looked down the alley to the street, suddenly aware through his entire body how close they had been to being seen. “Well. Enjoy… that. Your early night.”
“Mm.” Jamie fucking winked at him, fucking brat, before he turned and started off toward the street.
Roy watched him go, aware of other things now—his pulse, hammering in every part of his body, he could even feel it in his fingertips—his breath, ragged and desperate—the smell of garbage and sweat and piss filling this fucking alley—the taste of beer in his mouth—the stickiness of his cock still exposed to the air—
And that got through his fucking skull enough to make him put himself away and zip up, get his belt back in place again, and start walking. He got to the street, looked both ways, found himself alone. Nobody walking along, no sign of Jamie.
Their paths were going to cross again, though. He had the kind of feeling that never turned out false.
Roy went the rest of the way home at a run.