Into The Team (19 page)

“This is getting serious.” Wayne shook his head. “Something’s got to give.”

With a body dripping in sweat, Daryl let out a tired sigh. “You’ll have to admit defeat,” he said. “It’s a stale mate.”

“No,” Wayne said confidently. “The third and final round requires total body contact.”

Todd stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“This time, you have to press your bodies into each other’s. Your cocks have to touch, legs have to grip. Both your hands…” He narrowed his eyes. “No, no….” He grinned. “One hand has to grip the back of the others neck. The other hand can go where it was last time, but fingertips much reach further into the crack.”

Todd deflated. There would be no way for him to control his cock this time. He looked to Daryl for help.

“Are you serious?” Daryl asked. “You want us to virtually have it off.”

“You’ve done excellent so far, so it should be no problem,” Wayne said. “Remember, if you don’t pile on the pressure you don’t get better. That’s true on the pitch, and it’s true in here.”

Daryl nodded. “Very well, I can handle it.”

Wayne looked at Todd. “Sounds like he’s challenging you. Are you ready to rise to that challenge, or are you backing out?”

Todd lost his smile, cleared his mind. “If he can do it, so can I.”

Wayne winked at him. “That’s what I like, someone who’s not afraid to step it up.” He nodded for them to get close. “Same as before, the lips cannot touch. But your chest, stomach, bollocks, legs, and arms must be pressed as tightly as you can. Imagine you’re both wrestling upright.”

Daryl faced Todd, his eyes raised and his expression sure. “Let’s do it,” he said, and gestured to Todd with his hands.

Todd inhaled. All he had to do was count down again, and forget about his cock. He took the one step necessary to be up close to Daryl. Facing him head on, he reached around his back.

With one hand on his butt, the other on his neck, he drew the guy into him.

“Time starts now,” Wayne said.

Daryl’s body was a fiery slab against him. His cock was soft but the heat vibrated from it with slow burning pressure. The breaths between them were uneven and heavy, and the heated scent from Daryl was potent.

Todd had forgotten to start his internal countdown and had no idea how long they’d been bound together. All he could think about was Daryl’s ass, his hot breath, crystal blue eyes….

Shit, could half of me be gay?

Each breath from Daryl fired his mind like a flame. But Todd tried to focus. He had to come out of this with enough credibility to impress Daryl.

Sweat trickled from Daryl’s ass onto Todd’s hand and caused his fingertips to slip further into Daryl’s crack. Daryl let out a sudden breath. Todd gripped the muscle tighter, trying to stop his hand from slipping, while all the time wanting to delve deep into that promising hotness. He could imagine the tender rim of his hole, tight and muscular, waiting less than an inch away. He could lick it and taste the sweaty flesh around…

Stop thinking, Todd.

Sweat trickled between them like a thousand, frantic, slivering mites trying to find a way out of their hot, pressed flesh. The smell of it was so thick it felt like waves gushing Todd’s nostrils. His legs felt like they were bleeding and already he could feel a pool around their feet. Trickles running down their stomachs got lost in their pubes and Todd felt them like tiny fingers dancing down to his cock. In a moment they would start running over their balls, arousing and teasing.

He tried to count down anyway. Starting at thirty he felt he could focus. But he found himself counting up instead of down.

Fuck it!

Their breaths were on fire, each one licked up Todd’s face like a sand blaster. Heartbeats thudded deep within, echoing back and forth. Todd wondered what Daryl was thinking. Was he as cynical as he sounded, or was one part of him, however small, enjoying the sensations radiating from each point of skin that touched his? Could he simply be a master of disguise, when deep down he was fighting a raging battle to stop his cock turning hard as steel?

Todd wanted Daryl to be fighting. He wanted him not to be this one hundred percent straight character that could withstand the most extreme male contact without the slightest hint of arousal. He wanted him to loosen up and play with his body, even if it was in front of Wayne. He wanted to feel the guy getting hard with him.

He focused his mind on their cocks, trying to detect even the slightest nudge from him. But it was impossible to tell. Their bodies had become indistinguishable, as if somehow merged into one hot, sweating mass of muscle.

“Ten seconds,” Wayne shouted.

The words seemed to provoke a sensation at Todd’s crotch. It was a slight pressure, and he wondered if that was his cock or Daryl’s. But he was too tired to even concentrate now, and he had no idea whether their cocks were limp or hard. He would just have to wait until he was back in possession of his body to see whether he’d got through this round without getting turned on.

“Three...two...one.”

With collapsing lungs Todd stood back. His head was dizzy for a moment and he found it hard to even see in the dark space. With a hand cupping his cock, he felt only a slight increase in size. It was a relief to feel it soft and not stuck up like a torpedo.

He looked at Daryl who panted as if he’d just come up from the deep. His hand covered his cock too, and Todd hoped he’d gotten just a little hard down there.

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Daryl said to Wayne. “You’ve proved nothing.”

Wayne relaxed against the wall; his eyes narrow as they glanced from Daryl to Todd and back again.

“I think I have,” he said. “The fact neither of you laughed and backed away proves you regard each other in a much deeper way than I thought. To you Daryl, Todd is a challenge.” He looked at Todd. “And I think you see him the same way. That’s good. That is the sign of a significant partnership, one that can produce the best in the other.”

He smiled slowly and nodded.

“You’re free to go now. Go on home and have that game of chess.”

On their way out of the club building, Daryl picked up a bottle of water from the canteen fridge. He gulped down several mouthfuls before handing the bottle to Todd. “Are you still up for the chess game?”

Todd poured the water into his mouth, his brain tingling with pleasure. After swallowing he shrugged. “Are you?”

Daryl nodded. “I’ve got some fish at home. It’s good brain food.”

Todd took some more water and handed the bottle back to him. “Let’s go.”

His head felt cushioned with dehydration, but the water had given him faint glimpses of normality as Daryl drove away from The Valley.

Todd thought about the things Wayne had said earlier. Although he wasn’t sure what it was, he knew there was something between him and Daryl that meant more than what he seemed to have with Kieran.

What he felt with Kieran had a simple, boyish, knock-around kind of slant to it. And that first day of training with him had been like a build-up to getting giddy in the sauna. It was as if they had felt an obligation to do it. But with Daryl there was a maturity in the way they considered each other. There was nothing Todd felt he had to do with Daryl, and he didn’t get the impression that Daryl felt anything needed to happen either.

At the flat, Daryl put the fish in the oven and Todd set up the board. His head was clearer now and he wanted to play this game carefully.

Daryl handed him a glass of iced water and they sat down to begin.

Todd took his time with each move, studying the board and making predictions on Daryl’s strategy. Daryl played with his usual confidence, and for half an hour they didn’t say a word.

A crucial moment came.

For the first time in their three games, Todd had Daryl in check. His rook had just taken Daryl’s bishop and was in direct line with his king. The only move Todd could see for Daryl was to block his rook with his queen. It would be a hard move for any player to make, for they’d be certain to lose that queen.

“Clever dick,” Daryl muttered.

Todd watched his eyes drift slowly from one piece to another, seeming to check his arsenal for a way out. But Todd had been painstaking in his forward thinking, and he knew there was only one move he could make.

After five minutes of frowning hard, Daryl made that move and Todd took his queen. He lost his rook in the process but it was worth the sacrifice.

Daryl cast an admiring look over him but said nothing. Todd didn’t need him to, those eyes said it all.

When the fish was ready, they ate in silence. Daryl took Todd’s bishop, Todd took his knight. By the time they’d finished the food, they were down to their kings, a couple of pawns and one rook each.

Todd felt this game was going to go on for some time, and when it ended, it would end without a winner. Fifteen minutes later, they gave up and shook hands.

Daryl didn’t say anything, but the glint in his eyes said something that made Todd feel the guy saw him as more than a worthy player.

Todd decided now was a good time to approach a subject he’d wanted to for some time. Even though he felt silly for bringing it up, he wanted to know the answer to the question.

“I want to ask you something,” he said. “But it might sound a bit stupid.”

Daryl took the used plates to the sink and rinsed them under steaming water. “Go ahead, I can deal with stupidity.”

“I was told by a couple of guys from the house that you all watched a film showing me playing in a match, and that you all had to give a response to the boss about whether you wanted me to come in for a trial.”

Daryl stopped washing the dishes and returned to the counter. His eyes showed mild indifference. “That’s right,” he said. “What about it?”

“I was told that you were the first to give the nod, that you decided you wanted me in before anyone else.”

Daryl smiled. “I did.”

His smile, which shone out from his eyes, filled Todd with warmth, the same warmth he’d felt when he and Cherrie first met.

“What was it that made you approve so quickly?”

Daryl gazed at the floor, his eyes distant.

“I want to show you something,” he said, looking up. “It might seem a bit silly, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But it’s special, to me anyway. But hopefully, it’ll be special to you too.”

“Show me.”

Daryl gave Todd’s upper arm a tender grip. “Sit on the sofa, I’ll go and get it.” He walked off towards his bedroom.

Todd went to the sofa and placed himself on the edge. That soothing warmth he felt inside had grown to full anticipation.

When Daryl came back, he carried a single DVD and slotted it into the drive. He settled back on the sofa beside Todd. “This was one of the best days of my life when I was little,” he said. “I watch it often; it always motivates me, especially when I’m feeling down after not playing well.”

The screen lit up. A pair of dark grey shoes at the end of denim-clad legs stood on a patch of grass. The view shifted in a blur, as if the cameraman had become aware that the film was rolling. When it steadied, it focused on a field, surrounded by countless bodies. A game of football was in play.

At first, Todd thought it was a match between two amateur teams, like those he’d played with the Blackmoor Pits. But within seconds, he realized the players were kids.

“Ah, I see,” he said. “Is this you playing as a youngster?”

“Yeah.” Daryl sat up and perched on the edge of the sofa with Todd. “It’s almost ten years ago. My father filmed it. But I think…” He shrugged. “Keep watching.”

As Todd watched the game, he felt something familiar about what he saw. The kids wore small, cotton tops, sleeveless and numbered, over their T-shirts. One team in red, the other in dark green. Those colors were familiar too. So was the dull drizzling weather.

He held the air in his lungs as he watched one of those young players running energetically up the far side of the field, chasing the play that was going on up the center. That young player had thick, brown hair bounding up and down as he sprinted.  Todd swallowed hard.

There he was, his small body charging, his short legs blurred against the rows of spectators lining the far side. He skidded to a halt as the ball was tackled and won and taken back the way he’d just ran.

Although the volume on the film was low and muffled, the sounds of the crowd calling out names, their claps and cries filled Todd’s head. The scent of wet grass, the feel of mud sticking to his shins, even the smell of that cotton top that hung around his shoulders. His father….

Clearing his throat, Todd shook his head slowly, feeling like he’d been sent into a distant dream.

“It’s me,” he said, not taking his eyes from what he saw. “I’m playing.”

Daryl turned to him. “It is you isn’t it?” he asked as if he already knew the answer, but had needed confirmation. “You played in that game.”

Todd turned to him for the briefest of moments and caught a glow in his eyes. But he didn’t want to take his eyes off that screen for long and was back on it again.

“How did you get this?” he said absently while watching himself running from player to player, trying to get a touch on the ball.

“I was playing too,” Daryl told him. “I was there with you. It was the Kids and Youth’s Tournament that they held in Lancashire that one time. We played together.” He pointed to the screen, as a kid with short-cropped hair, the color of snow, went in for a tackle. “That’s me.”

Todd swallowed again and crouched onto the floor. He needed to be closer to what he was seeing, and his eyes watched carefully, scanning like they did during any game. But he wasn’t watching the play, he was searching those rows of spectators, trying to remember where it was in that crowd his father had stood, exactly what he’d been wearing that day.

His breathing increased, his head became heavy. The camera drifted across the field as the ball went forward. The line of spectators moving across the screen until…

There he is…

Standing to the far side of the near goal, his father looked on with that same expression Todd remembered, looking like he was constantly on the verge of shouting. He wore the red hooded top and his padded dark blue coat that Todd always loved the feel of whenever his father held him close. The one that felt cold but comfortable against his cheek. He wore his grey tracksuit bottoms, baggy and loose, that were ripped and frayed at the pockets. And even though he couldn’t see it, Todd knew that in one of those pockets would be his watch, the one with the green glowing, numeric display that his mother and father had bought him for his ninth birthday.

“I thought it was you,” Daryl crouched beside him on the floor. “I’ve watched this countless times, I always remembered that you and I had something going in that game. The other players were rough as fuck, but you played an honest game and I always looked out for you on that pitch, wanting only to pass the ball to you. And you always seemed to be there, just when I needed you.”

Todd heard him, but he was too busy watching that line of spectators, waiting again for when the camera would pan to the left and his father would fall into the shot.

The train journey he and his father took back home that evening came back to him. They’d had to change twice, getting on three different lines, even though the distance between home and the tournament was only thirty miles. He remembered the excitement and anticipation on the way, and the confident excitement on the way back, knowing he’d been selected to return. He and his father had sat close on each of those trains, his father’s arm tightly around him. And every couple of minutes he’d softly stroke Todd’s head, or gently squeeze his shoulder.

“When I saw the footage that Miles Dixon had taken of you playing,” Daryl went on. “Something in my head clicked, and somehow I just knew that it was you.”

Todd nodded to Daryl’s words, but watched the screen carefully as the camera panned back. His father was there again, leaning forward and gripping both hands together, as if at the end of a sharp clap.

“It must have been the way you weaved your body through the other players, it reminded me so much of this. And that’s why I said I wanted you in for a trial.” Daryl pointed to the corner of the screen, where the young Daryl had caught the ball in mid pass between two of the opposing players. “Watch, this was one of our near misses.”

On screen, the young Daryl tapped the ball forward and sprinted after it, all the time his head was up and searching across the field. The ten-year-old Todd came into view and ran alongside. The two of them took off.

The camera zoomed out and followed them up the pitch as they passed back and forth, running ahead with each pass, and catching it in time for its return.

“This was the one we nearly got in,” Daryl said quietly. “We got as far as the penalty box and some rough bastard came in low and took it while knocking you down.”

Todd continued to stare at the screen as this played out before him. Down he went after the rough tackle. But he didn’t stay down, and half way up, Daryl rushed over and gave him a hand. Once on his feet, he legged it back up the field after the ball.

“I listened out at the end of the match to see if you got picked,” Daryl said. “I didn’t know your name but I remembered your number. And when I heard it called out, I was buzzing inside for you. About a minute later, my number was called and I went off it. But you didn’t come back. The following month, when I got there, I was expecting to see you, but you didn’t turn up. I always wondered why. Anyway, the tournament went on and I got as far as the final month, but our team lost and that was…what is it?”

Todd could feel Daryl looking at him but he wouldn’t turn to see. Right now, his eyes felt like tiny pins had passed through them.

“Todd, are you ok buddy?”

With his sleeve, Todd wiped around his eyes. He wanted to turn away from the screen, to not let Daryl see him, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop looking out for his father.

“Does it make you feel nostalgic?” Daryl asked with a soft chuckle. “It does me; it was one of the best matches I played as a kid. My father told me I would go on and win the whole tournament at the end of that match…” He stopped again. “Are you sure you’re ok? I can turn it off if you want.”

He reached towards the screen but Todd grabbed his arm.

“No. Leave it on, please.”

Daryl’s arm dropped. He edged closer to Todd, put his arm around his shoulders.

“Is something wrong?” he asked softly.

Todd shook his head and swallowed, he could feel himself smiling at the screen as he remembered the after match moment when his father picked him up...the pins in his eyes turned fierce.

“Whoa.” Daryl suddenly blocked his view of the screen, his eyes sharp and frowning. “What is it? Tell me.”

Todd wiped his face and tried to see around Daryl. His father wasn’t on the screen.

“Todd, tell me,” Daryl pleaded, his hand gripping Todd’s shoulder.

Todd didn’t know what to say. A burning sensation had taken his gut, the back of his eyes stung. He pressed them shut, took a deep breath, and then opened them. “It was the last time he saw me play.”

Daryl’s shoulders slumped and his hands groped Todd’s shoulders gently. “Do you want to carry on watching?”