Sports Players. John Terry/Frank Lampard. 034. 087. 056. 085. 059.
Title: Is it Enough?
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 034. Not Enough
Word Count: 487
Rating PG13
Summary: The boys are faced with a close encounter, but are they careful enough to avoid exposure?
My Little Damn Table
~*~
The cold wind of the night air whipped around them, stirring fallen leaves, and empty beer cans at their feet. Sliding out the back door of the bustling club, John and Frank welcomed the fresh air. Arms slung over each others shoulders, and heads bent low, they huddled together for warmth. The dark alley-way was sparsely lit, the single light from a forlorn lamp-post creating an eerie haze. In the quiet of the night was where the Chelsea partnership were most comfortable, no prying eyes and inquisitive ears to intrude on their secret. Veering backwards to the shadows of the alley Frank allowed his head to turn slightly, as he pressed his rough unshaven cheek against his lover’s, lips skimming the expanse of his cool white skin. Not a sentence was exchanged, they’d done this so many times now, that words were just wasted. Bodies moulded into one, the half crescent shaped moon caused a sliver of John’s face to be exposed.
And then it happened.
A flash that illuminated the gloomy, dark night and lit it up for all to see. They didn’t realise in time, didn’t realise till it was too late, that in the midst of the overgrown hedges two sparkling eyes shone back, camera in hand as the flash continued to insistently spark. Frank’s pupils widened in fear, his usually light green eyes, turning a darker shade of jade. His face unable to hide the truth he was feeling. The “oh shit we’re busted” look being screamed so loudly from his eyes that he might as well of tattooed it on his forehead.
Frank almost gasped out loud when he suddenly felt John go limp in his arms, the unexpected weight almost causing him to drop the defender on the rain washed cobbled street. Panic rushed through his veins, as the thought of John collapsing, pushed every other worry to the back of his mind. He almost cried with relief when he saw his captain smile up at him re-assuringly from the shadows, the wink he gave allowing Frank to relax. Soon John was pretending to heave, form bent over as Lamps’ continued to hold him up. As expected, the sounds of a camera clicking went off in a flurry, the bulbs of light so blinding that Frank was tempted to go right up to the shit and punch him good and hard. But as that thought ran through his mind he felt a hand gently grab his knee, out of view and only briefly, yet it was a touch that instantly calmed the midfielder. John’s little act soon drew to a close, and him and Frank saluted the cameraman with a finger before returning back in the club. The pounding of the music matching the pounding in their hearts as the thought of what was to be printed the next day lay heavy in their stomachs.
They just hoped they’d done enough.
Title: Destiny in the Stars
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 087. Life
Word Count: 1,261
Rating PG13
Summary: Frank teaches John about the stars and destiny.
“And that there…” he pointed with his index finger, “that’s Cassiopeia” he stated proudly, leaning back on his elbows under the star-lit sky. John mimicked his position, bodies lining together, skin barely touching under the glow of the training ground lights. At seven in the evening the two men were sat on the damp grass of one of the pitches, the cold winter air chilling their bodies, breaths mingling before their eyes.
“You could be reeling off a bunch of shit for all I know” John joked, shoulders shrugging slightly. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” he asked, turning sideways to face a peaceful looking Frank. The older man met his gaze, eyes sparkling just as bright as the stars above them. “The stars don’t lie JT.” He replied, breaking their hold and tilting his head upwards.
John watched, frozen in awe at the wondrous man beside him, his chiselled jaw, striking green eyes…the soft face that could show such vulnerability, and then, in an instant switch to undiluted strength. Frank, like the stars, shone brightly for John.
“So what exactly are the stars there for then?” the defender asked, focusing skywards, “to make those little patterns in the sky?” he smiled, catching Frank’s body shake in silent mirth.
“Yeah…to make pretty little patterns.” He said dryly, rolling his eyes as John continued to smirk unabashedly beside him. “The stars tell us about our destiny…where life is taking us.” He spoke honestly, bringing his leg closer to John’s in a desperate bid to heat himself up.
“Destiny huh?” John repeated, tossing the idea around in his mind for a few moments. “Who told you that?”
Frank opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it again, a wave of uncertainty crossing his face. John could sense it immediately; and tentatively reached up and brought his hand down on Frank’s shoulder, fingers slowly teasing the muscle underneath his navy blue jumper. Eyes connected, as John continued to trail downwards, skimming over his lover’s forearm, before clasping their hands together tightly; a silent reassurance being made.
“Ideals are like stars…” Frank breathed, staring straight ahead at the trees that cast darkened shadows around them, “You will not succeed in touching them with your hands, but you choose them as your guide, and following them, you reach your destiny.” He finished, turning towards the defender. A comfortable silence fell amongst them, both captivated in the way the dim lights caused each others eyes to sparkle. “My mum told me that.” Frank breathed; smiling wistfully into the cool night air.
John wore a matching smile, one that curved just slightly at the sides, flexing his hand tighter around Frank’s he whispered hotly “What’s my destiny look like then?”
Frank smirked beside him, the drop in John’s tone, and the way he had angled their boot clad feet together, had not gone unnoticed. Instead, however, he ignored JT’s flirtatious signals and focused on the question which had just been spoken in the sexiest voice Frank had ever heard. Raising a hand gingerly, he balanced his weight on their still interlocked hands. “You see there?” he asked, “those six stars.” He rotated his finger in a sphere shape, lining out the stars he wanted John to notice.
“What about ‘em?” John replied, brow knitted together in concentration, as he followed Frank’s gaze and saw the simple circle of stars.
Frank rested back on his elbows, turning to give John a satisfied grin, “that’s a football” he stated proudly, his lips only spreading as he watched his lover’s expressions change on his face.
“A bloody football?” John almost cried, scoffing loudly at Frank’s easy assessment of his supposed ‘destiny’. “How do you know it’s a fucking football? It could be for tennis or basketball or golf?” he rattled off a few suggestions.
"Because football is the last thing you think about at night” Frank returned instantly, his thumb rubbing lazily on the front of John’s palm, his sensual movements causing John to tilt his head and catch his eye. “And the first thing in the morning.” He finished, warm chestnut eyes staring deeply back at him.
“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”
Frank watched as the man’s lips opposite him moved and the most beautiful words came pouring out of them. Words which flowed in the most tantalizing honey dripped voice, the type that caused all the hair on his arms to stand tall.
“William Shakespeare” was the only thing he could manage to say, the name slipping out breathlessly as the piercing brown eyes continued to paralyze him.
John softly slipped his fingers out of Lamps’ hold and brought it up to cup his face, the cool pad of his thumb, causing a shiver to catch in the midfielder’s throat as the blistering cold winds swept magically around them.
“It’s not the first thing Frankie.” He hushed against his lover’s lips, their mouths touching just slightly as the hum of John’s voice still vibrated through Frank’s body. Frank dipped his head lower, allowing their noses to graze gently; the thought of what’s to come played through both their minds. Leaning in to close the distance, they heard a call float into the silent skies…
“Hey guys!”
Both men groaned simultaneously, as their peaceful moment was ruined. The small vision of Joe Cole came into view, wrapped up in way too many layers, with a Chelsea FC beanie hat that was pulled down so far it almost covered his eyes. “What’cha doing?” he asked, oblivious to the fact that up till a few seconds ago, his two friends were planning to be ‘going at it’ right where he stood. Joe was never the quickest tool in the shed, thankfully for John and Frank, which is why they often got away with things under the England midfielders nose. Therefore, it came as no surprise that Joe didn’t notice the two men slowly shift away from each other; their bodies were extremely close, something that even Joey would have picked up on, if he had seen it.
“Star watching” John threw out, averting his gaze back to the heavens, and trying desperately to suppress the growl which was threatening to spill as the young man muttered out a “cool” and took a seat right between him and Frank. Looking over his head, John could tell Frank’s face wore the same expression; catching the midfielder’s look he rolled his eyes in response.
“Oh look at that one! It’s so bright!” Joe exclaimed, his joyful exuberance making the two lovers chuckle as they followed their friends eye-line. Loud guffaws echoed out into the vacant air as John grinned in hysterics.
“Hate to break it to you mate…but that’s a fucking plane!” his chortles didn’t cease; not even as he watched Joe’s cheeks darken in colour, and neither, as he saw the young midfielder’s lips push out into a full on pout.
“Aw never mind Joey” Frank consoled him, smiling brightly in an attempt to hide his stifled laughter. Slinging an arm over Cole’s shoulder, Frank’s attention was focused elsewhere, focused fully on the man beside Joe, “You’re soon gonna find your brightest star…” he told him surely.
“I have” he whispered the last words softly, almost too quietly to be heard, but John did. And the beam on his face could not be brighter.
For it was true…
That in a lover's sky, all stars are eclipsed by the eyes of the one you love...
(Quotes by Carl Schurz and William Shakespeare)
Title: Breakfast in Bed.
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 056. Breakfast
Word Count: 888
Rating PG13
Summary: Frank and John share bed-talk. Fic cut to fit prompt, full length version can be found here
Heavy pants echoed loudly around the room, the sound of their release vibrating off the walls. Spent and sated John rolled over onto his back and brought Lamps to lie across him, the midfielder's head resting comfortably against his sweat soaked chest; his breath running cool over John’s still heated skin, “Man…that was…”
“Yeah” John finished for him, both men still numb and incoherent after their make-out; “I think we broke our record!” the defender smiled, running his fingers up and down Frank’s naked back.
“And it’s not even light out.” Frank replied, smirking softly from where he lay, planting open mouthed kisses around John’s nipple. John’s breath hitched as he chuckled down at his lover’s eagerness, “Give me a minute to gather my strength mate!” his eyes connected with Frank’s and he found himself in a mesmerising hold. A silence stretched between them, almost as if the world had stopped turning for a moment, and left them locked in this perfect stillness, where nothing else mattered…just them and their naked content bodies that lay coiled together.
“What you thinking?” Frank whispered softly, eyes continuing to bore into John’s. The younger man stared back, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth, “I’m thinking…” he began, drawing his tongue out to lick at his lips, “I’m thinking my watch is bloody killing me.” He stated, trying in vain to hold the laughter in as Frank rolled his eyes and nipped at John’s chest in frustration. “What its true!” he laughed, fingers coming to run through the midfielder’s hair and tugging gently. “I don’t know how you can sleep in yours, mine always leaves fucking indents.” He grumbled to himself as he unclasped the expensive jewellery and threw it haphazardly onto the bedside table.
“Well I wasn’t exactly planning on sleeping tonight.” Frank pouted, his lips clasping together, the way John had dispelled their earlier moment causing him to sulk.
“Trust me mate…you won’t be” John told him, knowing that he’d soon have Frank out of his mood, and panting his name, “You know what I’m really thinking?” he asked, callous fingers coming to lift the midfielder’s chin up, drawing crystalline emerald eyes to his own. “Thank fuck Elen’s away and we get to spend the night here…in your bed…in your sheets.” His low husky tone sent cool shivers down Frank’s spine. “It feels good being here. Not sneaking around some crap hotel or in the back of our cars…it feels like we’re just…”
“Normal?” Frank supplied, understanding completely what John was saying, what he meant when he spoke of slinking around cheap hotels, or hiding out in their cars. It was sleazy and seedy; it cheapened what they had, what they treasured. Yet, despite it all, what they shared was the richest thing either possessed.
“Yeah.” John breathed, still amazed that Lamps knew exactly what he was thinking without even saying a word. “Speaking of…” he continued, shifting slightly till he was propped up amongst the pillows, “When’s Elen getting home?”
Frank copied his movements, fidgeting till he settled himself on one elbow, the other hand tracing invisible patterns over his lover’s skin. “Not till the evening.” He smiled inwardly, “We have the whole morning to ourselves!” he exclaimed, dirty thoughts and wicked ideas running through his sordid mind.
“Good.” John grinned; leaning down to press a brief kiss against the older mans lips. “You can make me breakfast in bed then” he stated cheekily, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Frank laughed heartily “Fuck off!” his loud guffaws ringing loudly in the vast room. “I don’t even make Elen breakfast in bed you think I’m gonna do it for you?”
"Hey!” John cried, “So you just use me and abuse me huh?” he chuckled, “No breakfast? It’s like I’m some cheap hooker!” the defender huffed, jokingly pulling himself free from Frank’s embrace, and folding his arms.
“Mate… Mate…” Frank sighed, sitting up properly and trying to twist the man around so he could face him, after futile attempts he finally gave up and perched his unshaven chin against his lover’s shoulder, “You’re not a hooker.” He told him, happy to see it gained a response.
“I’m not?” John asked, turning his head sideways to face Frank’s profile.
“Nah.” Frank shook his head, “If you were a hooker…I’d be paying you!” he smirked, laughing hard at his own joke. His amusement was short lived however, as John pounced on the unsuspecting man; rolling the midfielder onto his back, pinned down between the mattress and JT’s naked body. He grasped Frank’s arms tightly and raised them above his head.
“Now that weren’t nice Frankie” he chided the man, withering in wanted pleasure, beneath him, “I think you better pay me another way…don’t ‘ya think?”
“Oh yeah.” Frank managed to draw out; his breath hitching as he stared up at the gorgeous site that loomed over him, pushing up, he crashed his lips against John’s. Tongues duelled for dominance in the passionate kiss that had both men moaning in earnest. John pulled back, panting heavily, simply watching as Frank’s mouth continued its exploration southwards down his chest.
“And I like my eggs scrambled.” He told Frank in midst of a bone wracking gasp, his body shuddering against the midfielders expert tongue.
Frank couldn’t wait for the sun to rise.
Title: Too Close
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 085. She
Word Count: 1,435
Rating PG13
Summary: John cuts it fine when he and Frank get an unexpected visit from a certain lady.
“Its pissing me off mate…I haven’t hit the back of the net in 5 matches!” he grumbled, eyes staring skywards at the blank ceiling above him. Cool white sheets lay across his hips, dangerously low; the fabric slipping downwards with each stroke of John’s teasing fingers.
“Don’t stress Lampsy.” The defender told his lover, eyes cajoling the man beside him, “You just keep hitting those shots; one of them will go in…I know it.” He leant over and kissed Frank’s chest, lips pressed solidly against tanned naked skin.
“Cheers.” Frank sighed, running a hand through John’s dark tresses, “It’s just frustrating you know?” he talked openly, a raw edge to his voice, “I still feel it…getting kicked out by them two years ago…its still painful JT.”
“I know geezer I feel it too.” He reassured his vice-captain, tangling his naked legs more fully with the man beside him, their slicked sweaty skin cooling, as a soft breeze drifted through the half opened window. “But I know you’re gonna be immense tomorrow.” He spoke softly, words full of confidence and belief. Belief that ran right through Frank as John guided his thumb over the stubble of his unshaven cheek, hand cupping his face and bringing their eyes together. “You’re gonna score Frankie…You’re gonna score a blinder of a goal, and you’re gonna work your nuts off, cause that’s what you do, and it’ll pay off. You’re gonna give those fucking press boys something to write about. Shut ‘em up once and for all. And you’re going to be the best player on that pitch…the best Lampsy. Cause you’re going to give it a hundred and ten percent. You’re gonna do us all proud…. You’re gonna do me proud.” He concluded, watching with silent pleasure as Frank’s cheeks deepened in colour, a light red tinting the apples. The slight head nod that the midfielder gave him was enough thanks John needed.
Frank pulled out of the defender’s embrace a little; the words John had spoken so vehemently were said with such ease, offering such comfort…such strength. Frank was overwhelmed; a feeling of unworthiness washed over him. It was moments like these that had him questioning whether he truly deserved John. “You know mate? Its speeches like that...” he sighed wistfully, head slightly dipped as he collected his thoughts, “I just know you’re going to be the next captain. And a bloody good one at that.”
A shy smirk graced John’s face as he averted his gaze from the cerulean depths -which were specked with green- of Frank’s eyes. “I just want to be yours.” The defender hushed in a low sexy timbre. The husky whisper of John's voice sent vibrations across Frank’s skin, causing goose bumps to break out along his forearms.
“God You’re so fucking cheesy” Lamps laughed, his eyes sparkling as they caught the mischievous glint that shone in his partners’. John pushed up on his side, hovering over Frank’s muscular body, “Yeah, but you love it.” He grinned broadly, white teeth stretching across his face, before he pursed his lips together and brought them down heavily upon Frank’s; the defender’s tongue coming out to run along the edge of his jaw, nipping at the skin there; Frank’s hollow pants hummed against John’s neck, as he spurred him on.
--knock knock--
“Oh great. Who the fuck is that?” Frank asked, disentangling himself from John’s limbs and sitting up fully on the large double bed.
“How the heck should I know?” John bit back incredulously, as he too manoeuvred himself into an up-right position. Rubbing a hand over his face John contemplated the options, “Its probably just Macca doing the lights-out round.” He mumbled disinterestedly.
Frank’s eyes widened in realisation, “If it is I’m bloody screwed!” he cried, flicking his wrist to read his watch that read 10:30pm. Not late by any means. But this wasn’t just any night…it was the night before the biggest game of their careers…the quarter finals of the World Cup. Sven had ordered, even before they’d touched down in Germany, that there was to be no partnering up, rooms were singles and singles only...Something to do with focusing on your own individual game? It was all nonsense to John and Frank however, who spent most their nights sneaking to and from their rooms which were strategically situated opposite each other. It wasn’t like they got up to much most nights; they knew not to waste their energy before big games. It was just the closeness they craved. Most of their evenings consisted of possessing arms, twisted legs and heads that rested peacefully against the other. But they were pretty sure Steve McClaren or Sven wouldn’t see it in such light.
“Room Service”
The voice called out, emitting a heavy sigh of relief from Frank’s worried face.
“You ordered room service?” John hissed, knowing that this sort of thing could be tracked back by the boss. Pushing the sheets aside he swung his leg over the edge of the bed and slipped his boxers on. Rolling his eyes as Frank simply lulled back against the pillows.
“What? I was bloody hungry!” he exclaimed, running an absent hand up and down his chest, “and you’d do well to eat too! How you get enough energy from three bananas I’ll never know” he shook his head, a wondrous smile on his face. John picked up the TV remote from the bedside table, flinging the plastic object at an unsuspecting Frank; the sound of its smack against his chest causing giggles to break out as he threw on a basic white tee and strode down the small corridor to the door, Frank’s chuckles ringing clearly in the night air.
“SURPRISE!”
The high pitch squeal pierced his ears, as a blur of blonde and sun-tanned skin greeted him as he opened the door.
“Toni?” he stumbled out in shock, seeing his petite fiancé standing in the hallway of the hotel floor, stunning him for a moment. “What you doing here?” he asked, poking his head out for any sign of the manager or his wing man, “You know the rules!” he told her sternly. The rules were made very clear to them from day one. Although Sven had allowed the various wives and girlfriends to attend, night time restrictions applied; especially before matches. The WAG’s had been subjected to a different floor entirely, and were under strict instructions that if any were to be found on the ‘Team’s floor’, then that player would face serious consequences. The thought of those consequences struck panic into the Chelsea’s captain’s heart…as well as the knowledge that just 10ft away his secret lover was laid spread-eagled on his hotel bed.
“I know John, I just miss you.” She spoke with sadness, “We haven’t been alone together in ages…can’t you just sneak out for about an hour? We can go for a walk!” she suggested, eyes shining brightly with hope.
John’s tired face stared back at her forlornly, “Toni…it’s ten-thirty. I got the quarter finals tomorrow baby…I need my rest.” He told her softly, hoping she’d not push the subject. She held his gaze for a moment before breaking it and shaking her head slightly, bringing her hands to cover her face, “God I know…I know that…” she flustered embarrassed, groaning out in humiliation “I’m sorry honey, I shouldn’t of done this to you the night before your big game. Just…just sleep ok?” she smiled up at him, grabbing his face and pressing a quick kiss against his lips, “I’ll see you in the morning…I’m sorry” she rambled again, turning on her heel and skipping off down the hall without John saying another word.
Closing the door quietly behind him, he pressed his back up against the hard mahogany wood, his eyes falling closed and head lolling back. Even with his eyes shut he felt his presence. Opening them again slowly he saw Frank before him, fully dressed in his bed wear, which consisted of jogging bottoms and white tee.
His eyes held a question; a reluctant one, but a question all the same. He’d heard it all. Kind of hard not to.
He’d heard the pull in John’s voice as he turned Toni away and that made him ask.
Not out loud. He and John never needed words.
He asked with his eyes, the deep emerald windows opening up a magnitude of doubts…of worries.
Pleading eyes begging for an answer.
Do you want to end this?
And whereas Frank’s eyes done the asking, John’s lips did the telling, as they pushed solidly, certainly against his lover’s.
Not a chance.
Title: Kiss the Chef
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 059. Food
Word Count: 1,521
Rating PG13 - slight reference to sexual nature.
Summary: John can't resist Frank the Cook
The bright autumn sun shined through the leaves, basking Frank in a warm glow as he stood outside in his back garden. Through the closed patio doors he could hear the soft mumblings of conversation, and the occasional spurt of laughter. He flinched slightly as the wails of Luna crying filtered through the glass barrier. He could also, if he strained his ears hard enough, hear Elen’s yell of ‘Lisa’ - the nanny. It was a traditional get together, every year on the last Friday of August, all the Lampards and Redknapps gathered round the Chelsea star’s Cobham home. It was a day for family, and a smile soon took over his face as he watched the most important member, of said family, make their way to the garden now.
“What the hell are you wearing geezer?!” John cried out, laughing as he shut the glass door behind him, and made his way to Frank. The midfielder didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes in response, and gave him a pointed look that told John not to push it.
“Come on then give us a twirl!” the young man smirked, rotating his index finger round in demonstration. He smirked to himself as he leant back against the table where his partner stood.
“Fuck off!” was Frank’s low grumble of annoyance, as he thrust the spatula he held in his hand at JT threateningly. On this gorgeous August afternoon, Frank was outside standing over a rather large and extravagant BBQ. Steaks, sausages and burgers graced his grill, which he prodded at sparsely. However, it was Frank’s attire that gave John such amusement, the bright black and white chequered apron he had on fit him loosely. In the centre of his chest were a large pair of red plumped lips, the words ‘Kiss the Cook’ emblazoned clear for all to see underneath. John couldn’t suppress the chuckle that spilled from his lips as he tried to take in this bizarre sight.
“Ah mate…if only Didi and Joey were here…they’d have a field day!”
Frank simply shook his head. He could only imagine the onslaught of snarky comments he would’ve received had the dynamic duo saw his get-up.
“It’s bad enough you gotta see it…let alone those two!” the midfielder exclaimed as he turned his attention towards the man beside him. “Thanks for coming by the way mate.” He said sincerely with a slanted smile, “I know Elen was going on about her, Toni and Louise all meeting up again.”
“Of course I’m here…wouldn’t miss it.” John told him in reply, his hand discreetly sliding between them and rubbing along the tanned skin of Frank’s forearm. “Plus, getting to see you dressed like this is a bonus!” he joked; Guffawing loudly as Lamps’ punched him on the shoulder. “Way to ruin a moment bastard!” he chuckled despite himself, finding his eyes’ being drawn, unconsciously, to John’s laughing lips. His breath hitched as he watched his tongue came out to dampen them slightly. JT could feel Frank’s heated stare. He could always tell when those sea green eyes were watching him. Drawing Frank’s gaze to his own; the Chelsea duo found themselves locked in a heated hold, undiluted passion swirling in both of them.
John’s soon flashed with excitement, as a large grin spread over his face, “Hold on I’ll be right back!” the defender spoke hurriedly, jogging back inside the house and leaving Frank on the other side of the glass.
Within ten minutes he’d returned, arms hidden securely behind his back, looking just like a little boy who had a secret to share. Frank lifted his head from where he was turning over the sizzling meat. “Do I even want to know what you got there?” he let out a groan of apprehension.
“Oh just quit your moaning and close your eyes!” he spoke assertively, sighing in annoyance when Frank just replied with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you trust me?” he asked the midfielder, his eyes demanding the truth, and when Frank slowly allowed his eyelids to flutter shut John got his answer.
Soon Lamps’ felt pressure being applied to his head, and when he felt a tight encasement around his forehead he realised, without even needing to see, what John had been up to.
“Where the hell did you get this?” he asked catching his reflection in the glass panels. The sight causing him to scoff loudly, and lift his hands to feel what was on top of his head. A classic style, pristine white, chef’s hat was set on him, the puffed out tip dipping to the side slightly.
“Jamie!” John told him, stepping forward and propping Frank’s hat on him correctly. “Don’t ‘ya remember that night we all went out with Jody to that Thai place? We got completely piss faced and Jamie ran in the kitchens and stole some poor bloke’s hat!” he exclaimed, a chuckle forming at the memory and Frank couldn’t help but join in.
“Ah man that was a good night.” The midfielder replied, smiling wistfully to himself. The part of the night he was actually remembering was the cab ride home; where they’d lain covertly on the floor of the black cab. Thankfully the driver put it down to drunkenness rather than foreplay, if only he knew what they were getting up to.
“Now you’re a proper chef” John smiled, hands leaving Frank’s head and falling to his shoulders, where he gently massaged the tired sore muscles there. Lamp’s reached up and held securely to John’s forearms, bringing them down slowly, causing the defender’s hands to stroke down his collar bone.
“Yeah I am.” Frank smirked, his hands finally settling John’s and placing them in the centre of his chest, as his own hands took on their own travel through his lover’s hair. “Now do what it says!” he dragged JT’s gaze to where his hands lay, directly over the ‘Kiss the Cook’ sign. John didn’t need any more encouragement as he brought their lips together in a rushed forceful kiss. Lips sliding, biting, nipping at the others as their tongues delved into every crevice hitting those spots that always had them mewling in pleasure. John’s hands trailed further down Frank’s chest, dipping easily underneath the loosely tied apron, and without warning, cupped the midfielder brusquely through his jeans. Lamps’ gasped into John’s mouth, only aiding the defender’s tongue further as it continued to stroke the roof of Frank’s entrance.
Pulling back breathlessly they rested their foreheads together, eyes hooded in unabashed desire as their panted breaths mingled. The distant sound of a door opening had them pull back a little not touching but still close, and before either could comprehend who it was, a bright flash went off, causing stars to dance behind their eyes.
“What the--” Frank yelled bringing a hand up to clear his dazed head, blinking a couple of times, both men finally made out the figure of the one and only Jamie Redknapp. His trademark cheeky grin plastered on his face, and camera in hand, the ex-footballer laughed heartily at the scene before him.
“Oh great idea JT.” He clasped, the still shocked, defenders hand, before removing it quickly and slapping Frank’s back. “Cous’ I didn’t think it was possible for you to look like a bigger tosser…but you really topped yourself!” he chuckled, looking at Frank’s rather shameful apron once more and then travelling to the high chef’s hat that was perched on his head. The teasing look his cousin was giving him caused Frank to pull it off quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Wait till dad and Uncle Frank see this!” he said, waving the camera as evidence. He turned on his heel and was ready to leave, yet stopped for a minute and quickly back tracked and pinched a cooked sausage off the still heated BBQ. Biting down on it hungrily, Jamie nodded in approval, “Nice sausage mate!” he congratulated his cousin before finally returning back inside.
John turned to his lover beside him; both, no doubt, thinking how lucky they were to escape actual photographic evidence of their relationship. The captain rested a reassuring hand on Frank’s shoulder, and with one simple touch he spoke volumes. A silent understanding was shared…An understanding that they would have to be more careful if they were to avoid close encounters like that one. The seriousness of the situation soon faded, and John’s hand snaked its way heavily over Frank’s shoulders, “You know what’s funny?” he asked, his lips hanging dangerously close to Lamps’ earlobe, “Jamie stole the words right out of my mouth!” the defender winked, as Frank slowly pieced it together, and scoffed at his comment.
They stood in the sun, warm rays falling down upon them. Frank smiled softly at the man beside him, the man that held him a little closer than was considered normal, and he realised; that no matter how scary this thing between them got, no matter how scary it was if someone was to ever catch them, he would live through it. Cause this was going to be one hell of a season.
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 034. Not Enough
Word Count: 487
Rating PG13
Summary: The boys are faced with a close encounter, but are they careful enough to avoid exposure?
My Little Damn Table
~*~
The cold wind of the night air whipped around them, stirring fallen leaves, and empty beer cans at their feet. Sliding out the back door of the bustling club, John and Frank welcomed the fresh air. Arms slung over each others shoulders, and heads bent low, they huddled together for warmth. The dark alley-way was sparsely lit, the single light from a forlorn lamp-post creating an eerie haze. In the quiet of the night was where the Chelsea partnership were most comfortable, no prying eyes and inquisitive ears to intrude on their secret. Veering backwards to the shadows of the alley Frank allowed his head to turn slightly, as he pressed his rough unshaven cheek against his lover’s, lips skimming the expanse of his cool white skin. Not a sentence was exchanged, they’d done this so many times now, that words were just wasted. Bodies moulded into one, the half crescent shaped moon caused a sliver of John’s face to be exposed.
And then it happened.
A flash that illuminated the gloomy, dark night and lit it up for all to see. They didn’t realise in time, didn’t realise till it was too late, that in the midst of the overgrown hedges two sparkling eyes shone back, camera in hand as the flash continued to insistently spark. Frank’s pupils widened in fear, his usually light green eyes, turning a darker shade of jade. His face unable to hide the truth he was feeling. The “oh shit we’re busted” look being screamed so loudly from his eyes that he might as well of tattooed it on his forehead.
Frank almost gasped out loud when he suddenly felt John go limp in his arms, the unexpected weight almost causing him to drop the defender on the rain washed cobbled street. Panic rushed through his veins, as the thought of John collapsing, pushed every other worry to the back of his mind. He almost cried with relief when he saw his captain smile up at him re-assuringly from the shadows, the wink he gave allowing Frank to relax. Soon John was pretending to heave, form bent over as Lamps’ continued to hold him up. As expected, the sounds of a camera clicking went off in a flurry, the bulbs of light so blinding that Frank was tempted to go right up to the shit and punch him good and hard. But as that thought ran through his mind he felt a hand gently grab his knee, out of view and only briefly, yet it was a touch that instantly calmed the midfielder. John’s little act soon drew to a close, and him and Frank saluted the cameraman with a finger before returning back in the club. The pounding of the music matching the pounding in their hearts as the thought of what was to be printed the next day lay heavy in their stomachs.
They just hoped they’d done enough.
Title: Destiny in the Stars
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 087. Life
Word Count: 1,261
Rating PG13
Summary: Frank teaches John about the stars and destiny.
“And that there…” he pointed with his index finger, “that’s Cassiopeia” he stated proudly, leaning back on his elbows under the star-lit sky. John mimicked his position, bodies lining together, skin barely touching under the glow of the training ground lights. At seven in the evening the two men were sat on the damp grass of one of the pitches, the cold winter air chilling their bodies, breaths mingling before their eyes.
“You could be reeling off a bunch of shit for all I know” John joked, shoulders shrugging slightly. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” he asked, turning sideways to face a peaceful looking Frank. The older man met his gaze, eyes sparkling just as bright as the stars above them. “The stars don’t lie JT.” He replied, breaking their hold and tilting his head upwards.
John watched, frozen in awe at the wondrous man beside him, his chiselled jaw, striking green eyes…the soft face that could show such vulnerability, and then, in an instant switch to undiluted strength. Frank, like the stars, shone brightly for John.
“So what exactly are the stars there for then?” the defender asked, focusing skywards, “to make those little patterns in the sky?” he smiled, catching Frank’s body shake in silent mirth.
“Yeah…to make pretty little patterns.” He said dryly, rolling his eyes as John continued to smirk unabashedly beside him. “The stars tell us about our destiny…where life is taking us.” He spoke honestly, bringing his leg closer to John’s in a desperate bid to heat himself up.
“Destiny huh?” John repeated, tossing the idea around in his mind for a few moments. “Who told you that?”
Frank opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it again, a wave of uncertainty crossing his face. John could sense it immediately; and tentatively reached up and brought his hand down on Frank’s shoulder, fingers slowly teasing the muscle underneath his navy blue jumper. Eyes connected, as John continued to trail downwards, skimming over his lover’s forearm, before clasping their hands together tightly; a silent reassurance being made.
“Ideals are like stars…” Frank breathed, staring straight ahead at the trees that cast darkened shadows around them, “You will not succeed in touching them with your hands, but you choose them as your guide, and following them, you reach your destiny.” He finished, turning towards the defender. A comfortable silence fell amongst them, both captivated in the way the dim lights caused each others eyes to sparkle. “My mum told me that.” Frank breathed; smiling wistfully into the cool night air.
John wore a matching smile, one that curved just slightly at the sides, flexing his hand tighter around Frank’s he whispered hotly “What’s my destiny look like then?”
Frank smirked beside him, the drop in John’s tone, and the way he had angled their boot clad feet together, had not gone unnoticed. Instead, however, he ignored JT’s flirtatious signals and focused on the question which had just been spoken in the sexiest voice Frank had ever heard. Raising a hand gingerly, he balanced his weight on their still interlocked hands. “You see there?” he asked, “those six stars.” He rotated his finger in a sphere shape, lining out the stars he wanted John to notice.
“What about ‘em?” John replied, brow knitted together in concentration, as he followed Frank’s gaze and saw the simple circle of stars.
Frank rested back on his elbows, turning to give John a satisfied grin, “that’s a football” he stated proudly, his lips only spreading as he watched his lover’s expressions change on his face.
“A bloody football?” John almost cried, scoffing loudly at Frank’s easy assessment of his supposed ‘destiny’. “How do you know it’s a fucking football? It could be for tennis or basketball or golf?” he rattled off a few suggestions.
"Because football is the last thing you think about at night” Frank returned instantly, his thumb rubbing lazily on the front of John’s palm, his sensual movements causing John to tilt his head and catch his eye. “And the first thing in the morning.” He finished, warm chestnut eyes staring deeply back at him.
“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”
Frank watched as the man’s lips opposite him moved and the most beautiful words came pouring out of them. Words which flowed in the most tantalizing honey dripped voice, the type that caused all the hair on his arms to stand tall.
“William Shakespeare” was the only thing he could manage to say, the name slipping out breathlessly as the piercing brown eyes continued to paralyze him.
John softly slipped his fingers out of Lamps’ hold and brought it up to cup his face, the cool pad of his thumb, causing a shiver to catch in the midfielder’s throat as the blistering cold winds swept magically around them.
“It’s not the first thing Frankie.” He hushed against his lover’s lips, their mouths touching just slightly as the hum of John’s voice still vibrated through Frank’s body. Frank dipped his head lower, allowing their noses to graze gently; the thought of what’s to come played through both their minds. Leaning in to close the distance, they heard a call float into the silent skies…
“Hey guys!”
Both men groaned simultaneously, as their peaceful moment was ruined. The small vision of Joe Cole came into view, wrapped up in way too many layers, with a Chelsea FC beanie hat that was pulled down so far it almost covered his eyes. “What’cha doing?” he asked, oblivious to the fact that up till a few seconds ago, his two friends were planning to be ‘going at it’ right where he stood. Joe was never the quickest tool in the shed, thankfully for John and Frank, which is why they often got away with things under the England midfielders nose. Therefore, it came as no surprise that Joe didn’t notice the two men slowly shift away from each other; their bodies were extremely close, something that even Joey would have picked up on, if he had seen it.
“Star watching” John threw out, averting his gaze back to the heavens, and trying desperately to suppress the growl which was threatening to spill as the young man muttered out a “cool” and took a seat right between him and Frank. Looking over his head, John could tell Frank’s face wore the same expression; catching the midfielder’s look he rolled his eyes in response.
“Oh look at that one! It’s so bright!” Joe exclaimed, his joyful exuberance making the two lovers chuckle as they followed their friends eye-line. Loud guffaws echoed out into the vacant air as John grinned in hysterics.
“Hate to break it to you mate…but that’s a fucking plane!” his chortles didn’t cease; not even as he watched Joe’s cheeks darken in colour, and neither, as he saw the young midfielder’s lips push out into a full on pout.
“Aw never mind Joey” Frank consoled him, smiling brightly in an attempt to hide his stifled laughter. Slinging an arm over Cole’s shoulder, Frank’s attention was focused elsewhere, focused fully on the man beside Joe, “You’re soon gonna find your brightest star…” he told him surely.
“I have” he whispered the last words softly, almost too quietly to be heard, but John did. And the beam on his face could not be brighter.
For it was true…
That in a lover's sky, all stars are eclipsed by the eyes of the one you love...
(Quotes by Carl Schurz and William Shakespeare)
Title: Breakfast in Bed.
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 056. Breakfast
Word Count: 888
Rating PG13
Summary: Frank and John share bed-talk. Fic cut to fit prompt, full length version can be found here
Heavy pants echoed loudly around the room, the sound of their release vibrating off the walls. Spent and sated John rolled over onto his back and brought Lamps to lie across him, the midfielder's head resting comfortably against his sweat soaked chest; his breath running cool over John’s still heated skin, “Man…that was…”
“Yeah” John finished for him, both men still numb and incoherent after their make-out; “I think we broke our record!” the defender smiled, running his fingers up and down Frank’s naked back.
“And it’s not even light out.” Frank replied, smirking softly from where he lay, planting open mouthed kisses around John’s nipple. John’s breath hitched as he chuckled down at his lover’s eagerness, “Give me a minute to gather my strength mate!” his eyes connected with Frank’s and he found himself in a mesmerising hold. A silence stretched between them, almost as if the world had stopped turning for a moment, and left them locked in this perfect stillness, where nothing else mattered…just them and their naked content bodies that lay coiled together.
“What you thinking?” Frank whispered softly, eyes continuing to bore into John’s. The younger man stared back, a smile tugging at the side of his mouth, “I’m thinking…” he began, drawing his tongue out to lick at his lips, “I’m thinking my watch is bloody killing me.” He stated, trying in vain to hold the laughter in as Frank rolled his eyes and nipped at John’s chest in frustration. “What its true!” he laughed, fingers coming to run through the midfielder’s hair and tugging gently. “I don’t know how you can sleep in yours, mine always leaves fucking indents.” He grumbled to himself as he unclasped the expensive jewellery and threw it haphazardly onto the bedside table.
“Well I wasn’t exactly planning on sleeping tonight.” Frank pouted, his lips clasping together, the way John had dispelled their earlier moment causing him to sulk.
“Trust me mate…you won’t be” John told him, knowing that he’d soon have Frank out of his mood, and panting his name, “You know what I’m really thinking?” he asked, callous fingers coming to lift the midfielder’s chin up, drawing crystalline emerald eyes to his own. “Thank fuck Elen’s away and we get to spend the night here…in your bed…in your sheets.” His low husky tone sent cool shivers down Frank’s spine. “It feels good being here. Not sneaking around some crap hotel or in the back of our cars…it feels like we’re just…”
“Normal?” Frank supplied, understanding completely what John was saying, what he meant when he spoke of slinking around cheap hotels, or hiding out in their cars. It was sleazy and seedy; it cheapened what they had, what they treasured. Yet, despite it all, what they shared was the richest thing either possessed.
“Yeah.” John breathed, still amazed that Lamps knew exactly what he was thinking without even saying a word. “Speaking of…” he continued, shifting slightly till he was propped up amongst the pillows, “When’s Elen getting home?”
Frank copied his movements, fidgeting till he settled himself on one elbow, the other hand tracing invisible patterns over his lover’s skin. “Not till the evening.” He smiled inwardly, “We have the whole morning to ourselves!” he exclaimed, dirty thoughts and wicked ideas running through his sordid mind.
“Good.” John grinned; leaning down to press a brief kiss against the older mans lips. “You can make me breakfast in bed then” he stated cheekily, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Frank laughed heartily “Fuck off!” his loud guffaws ringing loudly in the vast room. “I don’t even make Elen breakfast in bed you think I’m gonna do it for you?”
"Hey!” John cried, “So you just use me and abuse me huh?” he chuckled, “No breakfast? It’s like I’m some cheap hooker!” the defender huffed, jokingly pulling himself free from Frank’s embrace, and folding his arms.
“Mate… Mate…” Frank sighed, sitting up properly and trying to twist the man around so he could face him, after futile attempts he finally gave up and perched his unshaven chin against his lover’s shoulder, “You’re not a hooker.” He told him, happy to see it gained a response.
“I’m not?” John asked, turning his head sideways to face Frank’s profile.
“Nah.” Frank shook his head, “If you were a hooker…I’d be paying you!” he smirked, laughing hard at his own joke. His amusement was short lived however, as John pounced on the unsuspecting man; rolling the midfielder onto his back, pinned down between the mattress and JT’s naked body. He grasped Frank’s arms tightly and raised them above his head.
“Now that weren’t nice Frankie” he chided the man, withering in wanted pleasure, beneath him, “I think you better pay me another way…don’t ‘ya think?”
“Oh yeah.” Frank managed to draw out; his breath hitching as he stared up at the gorgeous site that loomed over him, pushing up, he crashed his lips against John’s. Tongues duelled for dominance in the passionate kiss that had both men moaning in earnest. John pulled back, panting heavily, simply watching as Frank’s mouth continued its exploration southwards down his chest.
“And I like my eggs scrambled.” He told Frank in midst of a bone wracking gasp, his body shuddering against the midfielders expert tongue.
Frank couldn’t wait for the sun to rise.
Title: Too Close
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 085. She
Word Count: 1,435
Rating PG13
Summary: John cuts it fine when he and Frank get an unexpected visit from a certain lady.
“Its pissing me off mate…I haven’t hit the back of the net in 5 matches!” he grumbled, eyes staring skywards at the blank ceiling above him. Cool white sheets lay across his hips, dangerously low; the fabric slipping downwards with each stroke of John’s teasing fingers.
“Don’t stress Lampsy.” The defender told his lover, eyes cajoling the man beside him, “You just keep hitting those shots; one of them will go in…I know it.” He leant over and kissed Frank’s chest, lips pressed solidly against tanned naked skin.
“Cheers.” Frank sighed, running a hand through John’s dark tresses, “It’s just frustrating you know?” he talked openly, a raw edge to his voice, “I still feel it…getting kicked out by them two years ago…its still painful JT.”
“I know geezer I feel it too.” He reassured his vice-captain, tangling his naked legs more fully with the man beside him, their slicked sweaty skin cooling, as a soft breeze drifted through the half opened window. “But I know you’re gonna be immense tomorrow.” He spoke softly, words full of confidence and belief. Belief that ran right through Frank as John guided his thumb over the stubble of his unshaven cheek, hand cupping his face and bringing their eyes together. “You’re gonna score Frankie…You’re gonna score a blinder of a goal, and you’re gonna work your nuts off, cause that’s what you do, and it’ll pay off. You’re gonna give those fucking press boys something to write about. Shut ‘em up once and for all. And you’re going to be the best player on that pitch…the best Lampsy. Cause you’re going to give it a hundred and ten percent. You’re gonna do us all proud…. You’re gonna do me proud.” He concluded, watching with silent pleasure as Frank’s cheeks deepened in colour, a light red tinting the apples. The slight head nod that the midfielder gave him was enough thanks John needed.
Frank pulled out of the defender’s embrace a little; the words John had spoken so vehemently were said with such ease, offering such comfort…such strength. Frank was overwhelmed; a feeling of unworthiness washed over him. It was moments like these that had him questioning whether he truly deserved John. “You know mate? Its speeches like that...” he sighed wistfully, head slightly dipped as he collected his thoughts, “I just know you’re going to be the next captain. And a bloody good one at that.”
A shy smirk graced John’s face as he averted his gaze from the cerulean depths -which were specked with green- of Frank’s eyes. “I just want to be yours.” The defender hushed in a low sexy timbre. The husky whisper of John's voice sent vibrations across Frank’s skin, causing goose bumps to break out along his forearms.
“God You’re so fucking cheesy” Lamps laughed, his eyes sparkling as they caught the mischievous glint that shone in his partners’. John pushed up on his side, hovering over Frank’s muscular body, “Yeah, but you love it.” He grinned broadly, white teeth stretching across his face, before he pursed his lips together and brought them down heavily upon Frank’s; the defender’s tongue coming out to run along the edge of his jaw, nipping at the skin there; Frank’s hollow pants hummed against John’s neck, as he spurred him on.
--knock knock--
“Oh great. Who the fuck is that?” Frank asked, disentangling himself from John’s limbs and sitting up fully on the large double bed.
“How the heck should I know?” John bit back incredulously, as he too manoeuvred himself into an up-right position. Rubbing a hand over his face John contemplated the options, “Its probably just Macca doing the lights-out round.” He mumbled disinterestedly.
Frank’s eyes widened in realisation, “If it is I’m bloody screwed!” he cried, flicking his wrist to read his watch that read 10:30pm. Not late by any means. But this wasn’t just any night…it was the night before the biggest game of their careers…the quarter finals of the World Cup. Sven had ordered, even before they’d touched down in Germany, that there was to be no partnering up, rooms were singles and singles only...Something to do with focusing on your own individual game? It was all nonsense to John and Frank however, who spent most their nights sneaking to and from their rooms which were strategically situated opposite each other. It wasn’t like they got up to much most nights; they knew not to waste their energy before big games. It was just the closeness they craved. Most of their evenings consisted of possessing arms, twisted legs and heads that rested peacefully against the other. But they were pretty sure Steve McClaren or Sven wouldn’t see it in such light.
“Room Service”
The voice called out, emitting a heavy sigh of relief from Frank’s worried face.
“You ordered room service?” John hissed, knowing that this sort of thing could be tracked back by the boss. Pushing the sheets aside he swung his leg over the edge of the bed and slipped his boxers on. Rolling his eyes as Frank simply lulled back against the pillows.
“What? I was bloody hungry!” he exclaimed, running an absent hand up and down his chest, “and you’d do well to eat too! How you get enough energy from three bananas I’ll never know” he shook his head, a wondrous smile on his face. John picked up the TV remote from the bedside table, flinging the plastic object at an unsuspecting Frank; the sound of its smack against his chest causing giggles to break out as he threw on a basic white tee and strode down the small corridor to the door, Frank’s chuckles ringing clearly in the night air.
“SURPRISE!”
The high pitch squeal pierced his ears, as a blur of blonde and sun-tanned skin greeted him as he opened the door.
“Toni?” he stumbled out in shock, seeing his petite fiancé standing in the hallway of the hotel floor, stunning him for a moment. “What you doing here?” he asked, poking his head out for any sign of the manager or his wing man, “You know the rules!” he told her sternly. The rules were made very clear to them from day one. Although Sven had allowed the various wives and girlfriends to attend, night time restrictions applied; especially before matches. The WAG’s had been subjected to a different floor entirely, and were under strict instructions that if any were to be found on the ‘Team’s floor’, then that player would face serious consequences. The thought of those consequences struck panic into the Chelsea’s captain’s heart…as well as the knowledge that just 10ft away his secret lover was laid spread-eagled on his hotel bed.
“I know John, I just miss you.” She spoke with sadness, “We haven’t been alone together in ages…can’t you just sneak out for about an hour? We can go for a walk!” she suggested, eyes shining brightly with hope.
John’s tired face stared back at her forlornly, “Toni…it’s ten-thirty. I got the quarter finals tomorrow baby…I need my rest.” He told her softly, hoping she’d not push the subject. She held his gaze for a moment before breaking it and shaking her head slightly, bringing her hands to cover her face, “God I know…I know that…” she flustered embarrassed, groaning out in humiliation “I’m sorry honey, I shouldn’t of done this to you the night before your big game. Just…just sleep ok?” she smiled up at him, grabbing his face and pressing a quick kiss against his lips, “I’ll see you in the morning…I’m sorry” she rambled again, turning on her heel and skipping off down the hall without John saying another word.
Closing the door quietly behind him, he pressed his back up against the hard mahogany wood, his eyes falling closed and head lolling back. Even with his eyes shut he felt his presence. Opening them again slowly he saw Frank before him, fully dressed in his bed wear, which consisted of jogging bottoms and white tee.
His eyes held a question; a reluctant one, but a question all the same. He’d heard it all. Kind of hard not to.
He’d heard the pull in John’s voice as he turned Toni away and that made him ask.
Not out loud. He and John never needed words.
He asked with his eyes, the deep emerald windows opening up a magnitude of doubts…of worries.
Pleading eyes begging for an answer.
Do you want to end this?
And whereas Frank’s eyes done the asking, John’s lips did the telling, as they pushed solidly, certainly against his lover’s.
Not a chance.
Title: Kiss the Chef
Fandom: Sports Players
Characters: John Terry/Frank Lampard
Prompt: 059. Food
Word Count: 1,521
Rating PG13 - slight reference to sexual nature.
Summary: John can't resist Frank the Cook
The bright autumn sun shined through the leaves, basking Frank in a warm glow as he stood outside in his back garden. Through the closed patio doors he could hear the soft mumblings of conversation, and the occasional spurt of laughter. He flinched slightly as the wails of Luna crying filtered through the glass barrier. He could also, if he strained his ears hard enough, hear Elen’s yell of ‘Lisa’ - the nanny. It was a traditional get together, every year on the last Friday of August, all the Lampards and Redknapps gathered round the Chelsea star’s Cobham home. It was a day for family, and a smile soon took over his face as he watched the most important member, of said family, make their way to the garden now.
“What the hell are you wearing geezer?!” John cried out, laughing as he shut the glass door behind him, and made his way to Frank. The midfielder didn’t reply, just rolled his eyes in response, and gave him a pointed look that told John not to push it.
“Come on then give us a twirl!” the young man smirked, rotating his index finger round in demonstration. He smirked to himself as he leant back against the table where his partner stood.
“Fuck off!” was Frank’s low grumble of annoyance, as he thrust the spatula he held in his hand at JT threateningly. On this gorgeous August afternoon, Frank was outside standing over a rather large and extravagant BBQ. Steaks, sausages and burgers graced his grill, which he prodded at sparsely. However, it was Frank’s attire that gave John such amusement, the bright black and white chequered apron he had on fit him loosely. In the centre of his chest were a large pair of red plumped lips, the words ‘Kiss the Cook’ emblazoned clear for all to see underneath. John couldn’t suppress the chuckle that spilled from his lips as he tried to take in this bizarre sight.
“Ah mate…if only Didi and Joey were here…they’d have a field day!”
Frank simply shook his head. He could only imagine the onslaught of snarky comments he would’ve received had the dynamic duo saw his get-up.
“It’s bad enough you gotta see it…let alone those two!” the midfielder exclaimed as he turned his attention towards the man beside him. “Thanks for coming by the way mate.” He said sincerely with a slanted smile, “I know Elen was going on about her, Toni and Louise all meeting up again.”
“Of course I’m here…wouldn’t miss it.” John told him in reply, his hand discreetly sliding between them and rubbing along the tanned skin of Frank’s forearm. “Plus, getting to see you dressed like this is a bonus!” he joked; Guffawing loudly as Lamps’ punched him on the shoulder. “Way to ruin a moment bastard!” he chuckled despite himself, finding his eyes’ being drawn, unconsciously, to John’s laughing lips. His breath hitched as he watched his tongue came out to dampen them slightly. JT could feel Frank’s heated stare. He could always tell when those sea green eyes were watching him. Drawing Frank’s gaze to his own; the Chelsea duo found themselves locked in a heated hold, undiluted passion swirling in both of them.
John’s soon flashed with excitement, as a large grin spread over his face, “Hold on I’ll be right back!” the defender spoke hurriedly, jogging back inside the house and leaving Frank on the other side of the glass.
Within ten minutes he’d returned, arms hidden securely behind his back, looking just like a little boy who had a secret to share. Frank lifted his head from where he was turning over the sizzling meat. “Do I even want to know what you got there?” he let out a groan of apprehension.
“Oh just quit your moaning and close your eyes!” he spoke assertively, sighing in annoyance when Frank just replied with a raised eyebrow.
“Do you trust me?” he asked the midfielder, his eyes demanding the truth, and when Frank slowly allowed his eyelids to flutter shut John got his answer.
Soon Lamps’ felt pressure being applied to his head, and when he felt a tight encasement around his forehead he realised, without even needing to see, what John had been up to.
“Where the hell did you get this?” he asked catching his reflection in the glass panels. The sight causing him to scoff loudly, and lift his hands to feel what was on top of his head. A classic style, pristine white, chef’s hat was set on him, the puffed out tip dipping to the side slightly.
“Jamie!” John told him, stepping forward and propping Frank’s hat on him correctly. “Don’t ‘ya remember that night we all went out with Jody to that Thai place? We got completely piss faced and Jamie ran in the kitchens and stole some poor bloke’s hat!” he exclaimed, a chuckle forming at the memory and Frank couldn’t help but join in.
“Ah man that was a good night.” The midfielder replied, smiling wistfully to himself. The part of the night he was actually remembering was the cab ride home; where they’d lain covertly on the floor of the black cab. Thankfully the driver put it down to drunkenness rather than foreplay, if only he knew what they were getting up to.
“Now you’re a proper chef” John smiled, hands leaving Frank’s head and falling to his shoulders, where he gently massaged the tired sore muscles there. Lamp’s reached up and held securely to John’s forearms, bringing them down slowly, causing the defender’s hands to stroke down his collar bone.
“Yeah I am.” Frank smirked, his hands finally settling John’s and placing them in the centre of his chest, as his own hands took on their own travel through his lover’s hair. “Now do what it says!” he dragged JT’s gaze to where his hands lay, directly over the ‘Kiss the Cook’ sign. John didn’t need any more encouragement as he brought their lips together in a rushed forceful kiss. Lips sliding, biting, nipping at the others as their tongues delved into every crevice hitting those spots that always had them mewling in pleasure. John’s hands trailed further down Frank’s chest, dipping easily underneath the loosely tied apron, and without warning, cupped the midfielder brusquely through his jeans. Lamps’ gasped into John’s mouth, only aiding the defender’s tongue further as it continued to stroke the roof of Frank’s entrance.
Pulling back breathlessly they rested their foreheads together, eyes hooded in unabashed desire as their panted breaths mingled. The distant sound of a door opening had them pull back a little not touching but still close, and before either could comprehend who it was, a bright flash went off, causing stars to dance behind their eyes.
“What the--” Frank yelled bringing a hand up to clear his dazed head, blinking a couple of times, both men finally made out the figure of the one and only Jamie Redknapp. His trademark cheeky grin plastered on his face, and camera in hand, the ex-footballer laughed heartily at the scene before him.
“Oh great idea JT.” He clasped, the still shocked, defenders hand, before removing it quickly and slapping Frank’s back. “Cous’ I didn’t think it was possible for you to look like a bigger tosser…but you really topped yourself!” he chuckled, looking at Frank’s rather shameful apron once more and then travelling to the high chef’s hat that was perched on his head. The teasing look his cousin was giving him caused Frank to pull it off quickly, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Wait till dad and Uncle Frank see this!” he said, waving the camera as evidence. He turned on his heel and was ready to leave, yet stopped for a minute and quickly back tracked and pinched a cooked sausage off the still heated BBQ. Biting down on it hungrily, Jamie nodded in approval, “Nice sausage mate!” he congratulated his cousin before finally returning back inside.
John turned to his lover beside him; both, no doubt, thinking how lucky they were to escape actual photographic evidence of their relationship. The captain rested a reassuring hand on Frank’s shoulder, and with one simple touch he spoke volumes. A silent understanding was shared…An understanding that they would have to be more careful if they were to avoid close encounters like that one. The seriousness of the situation soon faded, and John’s hand snaked its way heavily over Frank’s shoulders, “You know what’s funny?” he asked, his lips hanging dangerously close to Lamps’ earlobe, “Jamie stole the words right out of my mouth!” the defender winked, as Frank slowly pieced it together, and scoffed at his comment.
They stood in the sun, warm rays falling down upon them. Frank smiled softly at the man beside him, the man that held him a little closer than was considered normal, and he realised; that no matter how scary this thing between them got, no matter how scary it was if someone was to ever catch them, he would live through it. Cause this was going to be one hell of a season.