Gold Rush

ENG vs HUN: Part 2

Jack felt like he had been winded.

62 minutes into the game and the gaffer had subbed him for Bukayo Saka.

No disrespect to Saka, he's a good lad and great with a ball... but out there... he felt like he was the only one actually fuckin' doing anything on that pitch. Taking chances, intimidating the opposition, dribbling and moving well with the ball. He simply just couldn't understand why he'd been taken off.
Mans must be off his head, he thought.

Reluctantly, he shook Gareth's hand as he left the pitch, Jack could see him trying to catch his eye to speak to him but he wasn't interested in what that prick had to say.

He could hear the England fans boo'ing in disagreement with Gareth.. at least he wasn't the only one completely and utterly pissed off with his decision. With a thud, he frustratingly dropped his body into the seats surrounded by his fellow teammate substitutes and the back room staff.

God, he was so fucking wound up.
He'd not been this angry in a long, long time.
He was usually so good at keeping his feelings to himself, at least until he was in the privacy of the dressing room or even at home.

Someone offered him a bottle of water, he saw it being waved in his peripheral vision.
He didn't want it. He didn't want to be spoken to and didn't even bother to look up to see who it was.

'Don' want it'
They shook the bottle again, in an attempt to change his mind.
He frustratingly kicked out at the empty chair in front of him, 'Just fok off will ya... I said NO'.

It was only when he saw the person stand up and quickly run off towards the tunnel that he realised who it was.
Sophie.

He sighed to himself. What a prick he was.
Jack's hands automatically came up to his face and he ran his fingers angrily through his slicked back hair. Slowly feeling the niggling sting of his nails scratching against his scalp helped expel perhaps 2% of the anger he currently had batting around inside, desperately looking for an outlet.

He ain't sitting here any longer, he couldn't, he needed to catch up to Sophie.

Gareth eyeballed him as he ran past and into the tunnel, knowing full well he wouldn't say anything to him whilst the game was still playing out.

Sophie was nowhere to be found.

This battle would have to wait for a few minutes, he thought, as he allowed the beginnings of a tidal wave of emotion to creep up on him.
Jack went over to one of the sinks in the dressing room and placed both hands on either side of the porcelain. He observed his reflection in the facing mirror and felt those sprinkles of anxiety awakening and fluttering up into his throat.

His first instinct was to cry.

He couldn't do this.
It was exhausting.
The constant need to please, to prove himself.
Was it not enough that he was now playing for one of the most skilled and best teams in the world? It was relentless.

He went out for a drink, he's on drugs.
He meets friends for a meal, he's on the sesh.
He looks tired, he's addicted to sleeping pills and can't function without them.
Addicted to sex, addicted to girls.
He's not worth 100 mil.
His boyhood club hates him.
Often, he wondered what life would be like if he was even a fraction of all of the things that everyone presumed he was.

He wasn't one to speak about all the decent things he had done.
The hundreds of thousands of pounds he'd donated to charity, hospitals and hospices. The hours that he'd spent with the less fortunate and poorly individuals, the stuff he'd done for the kids, making sure they had memories to treasure.
And why did he even fucking bother.

The tears fell into the sink.
The raw frustration and red mist took over.

He became aware of warm arms tenderly snaking around his waist and a face clearly being nestled into his back.
She'd come to him. He almost immediately felt lighter.
Removing one palm off the side of the sink, he placed it over the hand that was wrapped around him.
Jack spun around to face her.
He was shocked to be faced with Millie.

'Mil... sorry... didn' know it was you'

They remained pressed against each-other, the remainder of Jack's tears still making their downward journey, before falling away from his jaw and onto his jersey.

'Who else would it be?'
'.. I dunno.. look. I need to leave. I can't be 'ere.'

Millie held his face firmly and roughly kissed him. He couldn't bring himself to stop.
His hands gripped the tops of her arms and hungrily roamed her back, shoulders and neck, before grabbing a fist full of her auburn hair.

He wanted to pull away so bad, to stop whatever this was.
But something took over.
The need to get rid of this pent up anger overrode any thoughts of common sense or feelings of guilt.

Before he knew it, Millie's hands were down his pumas and fresh rush of blood pumped directly to his groin, he stiffened rapidly.

He let himself lean against the sink behind him as she impatiently tugged at his shorts until they fell down to his ankles.
Almost immediately, Millie took his firm cock into her mouth.
She didn't feel nowhere near as good as Sophie, but still, he didn't pull away. He would feel better if he'd got rid of these feelings. Millie surely knew what the score was from last time, she was nothing to him.

Again, he scooped his hands through her hair, and firmly cradled her skull as he fucked her mouth. Her nails clawed at his arse and thighs.
Fucccck.
Jack clamped his eyes closed and imagined it was Sophie, to the point he'd fully convinced himself that it was. Sophie's hot mouth pursed around his tip, her dark luscious hair weaved through his thick fingers.

'Aaaahh'
He heard a feminine groan in response, her voice vibrated throughout his groin.
'Aahhhhh... Sophie', he didn't even care that he'd said her name out loud.
Millie swiftly removed him from her mouth.

'What the fuck did you just say??!'

Before he'd even began to explain himself, the changing room door flung open.

And there she was.