Home Goal and My Goal: Two Gay Footballers Stories

by H J Perry

  Sometimes a man needed to get too tired and have a little alcohol to see things a little clearer. Carlos slotted all those pieces together. He was jealous. He felt relieved. Now he felt disappointed, all within the space of the past hour. He very much interested in the man who lived above him.

  Harry didn't go home with a woman.

  Carlos walked into his kitchen and poured himself a large glass of water, out of habit. His mind was on Harry, who had come home alone. Harry barely spoke to Scott at the club but was all over some girl.

  Harry was undressing alone in the apartment above.

  Carrying the water, Carlos walked through to his bedroom, put the water beside the bed, and pulled off his clothes. He didn't bother to fully unbutton his shirt before pulling it over his head and dropping it on the floor. His trousers went the same way, quickly discarded.

  Harry was single and Harry was hot.

  Arousal coursed through his veins, blood pumping to his swelling cock, images and memories of Harry fleeting through his mind. Carlos fell on top of his bed, naked, with his hand on his hard dick, imagining he was not alone.

  Harry was above him.

  Lying on his bed, his one hand rubbed his cock and the other hand moved over his chest to pull on his sensitive nipples, one and then the other. He masturbated while fantasizing about one of his teammates. Carlos's cock got harder and harder. There was no denying it: that was exactly what he wanted to imagine.

  Harry upstairs, naked, doing the same thing.

  Carlos liked Harry a lot, and he wanted to spend time with him, get to know him better. Find out what he liked in bed. His hand moved faster and faster. As he imagined, he wondered what Harry's dick was like. How would it feel to have Harry's hands on his cock now?

  Harry's mouth?

  If only Harry were here in his bedroom, kissing, touching. Carlos exploded, shooting a white, sticky mess across his chest, shoulders, and stomach.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  November 2012

  HARRY

  "Did you hear about Gareth's girlfriend?"

  Across the table, Rob and Chris sniggered as Gareth entered the dining room and walked past them to the buffet breakfast table.

  "What about his girlfriend?" asked Carlos, raising a spoon of banana coated with yogurt to his mouth from his fresh fruit cocktail.

  Harry dug his spoon into his quinoa and oat porridge, which was colored purple by the raspberries on top. He remained silent. He never encouraged or joined in conversations about people's girlfriends. He was never comfortable with conversations heading in that direction.

  Harry and Carlos traveled to and from the football club together every day. It made sense, as they lived in the same building. Carlos insisted on driving his red Ferrari. He was of the opinion that Ferraris shouldn't be allowed in any other color. He also suggested that they go in earlier so that they could eat breakfast at the club instead of at home.

  Sometimes they ate together, just the two of them, when they'd get in extra early. Other days half the club would arrive at the same time.

  "She has left him for a bird," replied Rob.

  Chris nodded and leaned forward. "Whatever he did, he turned her. He's that bad he put her off men altogether."

  The men giggled like children across the table. Harry stared at his porridge, not wanting to hear this conversation. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Carlos wasn't laughing either.

  There were about twenty people in the dining room that morning, staff and players, but Gareth came to join them. He placed a bowl of cereal down and sat at the head of the table, between Carlos and Chris.

  "Did I hear my name?" Gareth looked around.

  "I was just mentioning that Lucy's got herself a new girlfriend," Rob grinned.

  Harry took another spoonful of porridge, aware of Gareth sitting with them, but not looking up to meet anyone's eyes.

  "She wasn't my girlfriend. It was just a brief fling," said Gareth defensively.

  "Whatever you wanna say," said Rob.

  "Yeah, whatever," echoed Chis. "You looked pretty tight together last time I saw you. Next thing I know, she's with a woman."

  Rob mumbled at his toast. "Perhaps you couldn't give her what she needed."

  "That could be true," said Gareth. "She wanted something else because there's nothing inadequate with my equipment. I've got what most women want here in my pants. Of all people, you guys know that. You've see me in the shower."

  This wasn't entirely true.

  Harry avoided looking at anyone below the waist as much as possible. For all he knew half the team might not even have penises, he was so careful to avoid looking below the shoulders when they were in the showers. Of course, no matter how careful, he caught the occasional glimpse.

  Carlos bristled next to Harry.

  "It's one thing for you to turn women into lesbians, Gareth. Who wouldn't want a girlfriend like that?" Whatever point Rob wanted to make he didn't finish.

  Chris interrupted. "Yes. As long as she's still into men, and I can watch too, I wouldn't mind a girl like that. Into women and me."

  Rob slapped Chris on the back. "Too right."

  Talking about sex slipped over the line into sexist chatter and objectifying women every day. Homophobic comments were also bound to follow, as usual on most days. Harry was certain worse was to come, and he hadn't finished breakfast.

  Harry didn't like it. It wasn't that he was such a good feminist, but he couldn't see women as sex objects and this isolated him from this particular macho team-bonding ritual. And he knew the men didn't talk like this in front of women. Most of the guys were decent enough that they'd be embarrassed and ashamed of themselves if a woman caught them talking like this.

  Sexist banter and bravado were primitive bonding exercises in private, which excluded gay teammates.

  Carlos hadn't said anything. He was concentrating on his coffee.

  "I don't mind women together," said Rob. "I can understand what a woman sees in a woman. All those curves! It's blokes together I can't stand."

  Here we go, not even ten o'clock in the morning.

  "Yeah, I hear you. Like, what could a guy see in another dude?"

  "Yeah, right. I wouldn't want to go anywhere near your hairy rear."

  "No fear of that, mate. I'm for female handling only."

  "Women fancy men, thank the good Lord. I guess a gay guy sees men the same as a straight woman." Gareth put in a reasoned suggestion from the end of the table.

  "Yeah, for women that's natural. I just don't understand a man touching another dude.

  As expected, the conversation continued to deteriorate into the sort of homophobic remarks that made Harry queasy.

  "You know, if a woman wants to suck my big D that all makes perfect sense. I don't mind that, but not a man's mouth near my tackle. No way. Imagine that five o'clock shadow over your balls."

  There were giggles.

  "You imagine it, if you want. I'm not even thinking it."

  Harry glanced up just in time to see the men shudder and shake their heads in total disgust.

  "Why would a man want to do that? Go anywhere near another guy's..."

  Carlos banged his hand down on the table for attention. The whole room fell silent. "But, Rob, Chris, thousands of women fancy men and you don't find that strange. They find something attractive, even in guys like you two."

  "Well said, Carl." Gareth laughed.

  Harry was surprised. Someone standing up against homophobic comments in the club was a rare event. It happened, but not often.

  "I don't know why it bothers you two," said Carlos. "No one's asking you to watch gay porn, so why are you worried about what two men might be doing together when you're not there? Why are you even thinking about it?"

  Well said, Harry thought but said nothing.

  From the moment Carlos's hand banged on the table, he held everyone's attention. No one in the room spoke or ate. Everybody listened.

  "You got something you w
ant to tell us, Carlos? You like it up the ass, do you?" One of the insolent teenagers at another table broke the spell of silence.

  And Harry inwardly groaned. That's why you can't challenge homophobic shit in this environment, because an accusing finger is pointed at you. You must like gay sex yourself if you object to homophobic nonsense.

  Arguably one of the best players in the world and the most expensive in the club, Carlos could laugh it off. His string of beautiful girlfriends was well documented.

  "I don't need to tell you, pipsqueak," Carlos called out to the youth. "In fact, I'll not be texting you or tweeting about my next shag, so don't hold your breath to find out whether he's a man or she's a woman." And then more quietly he added, "Bloody smart-assed comments."

  A few of the players chuckled. Whether they were laughing at Carlos or with him, Harry wasn't sure. They couldn't all be homophobic.

  Harry was pretty sure that if Jason came out and told everyone he was gay most of the blokes would be okay with it. Because Jason was a superb player, he fit in with the crowd, and everybody liked him. He played for England.

  Harry didn't feel so secure or self-confident. If a top player like Jason couldn't come out, Harry was damn sure he couldn't.

  Undeterred, Rob continued with ignorant nonsense. "The thing is, Carlos, whether you get a girlfriend or boyfriend is of no relevance to my life, but for one thing if you're, you know, that way, I wouldn't want you standing too close in the shower."

  As did Chris. "Come on, I know you're mucking about, but I wouldn't want gay eyes on my backside in the shower. And secondly, it's just wrong. Isn't that right Harry?"

  "What?"

  "Gay sex is just wrong. Two men do not belong together."

  "Why are you asking me? Do I look like the final arbiter of right and wrong morality around here?"

  "No. You're a Christian. You're the only one I know in this room who goes to church every week. And tell me if I'm wrong, but isn't it a part of your religion? Men and women only, that kind of thing?"

  Harry hesitated. "Well, um..., honestly, I think the main thing taught by my church is sex belongs in committed relationships, and that means marriage."

  "Gay men and lesbians can have committed relationships," said Carlos.

  "But they can't get married. Not yet," said Rob.

  "Not in this country," Carlos replied under his breath quietly.

  Harry thought, most people didn't hear that.

  Gareth pushed his chair away from the table. "I think what Harry is saying is you can't call on Christianity to back you up, Rob, because you shouldn't be having sex either because you're not married. I'm done here." He stood up and prepared to leave.

  Again there was laughter around the table, and they had the attention of everyone in the room. The gay sex discussion was irresistible to these guys, and Harry wished he wasn't at the heart of it.

  "Sets us all out as sinners then, wouldn't it? I'm fucked." Rob stood up, ready to leave the table and head down to the locker room to change for the day's training, and realized what he said. "Excuse the pun."

  No we're not all sinners, thought Harry, but I am probably the only virgin here.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  November

  CARLOS

  It was another night isolated in a hotel; another club dinner with the eleven plus seven players on the list for the next day; another early night for a lunchtime match.

  "Who's coming for a game of cards?"

  Various affirmative or negative murmurings rumbled around the dinner table.

  Wherever Harry went was where Carlos intended to go.

  "Carl? Are you in, Carl? Are you in for cards?"

  People flocked to Carlos, always asking him what he was doing. He noticed Harry would be asked last, if at all, quiet and often forgotten.

  Harry hadn't committed himself to any after-dinner activity, but Carlos was asked directly. "I'm not sure yet." He could always change his mind.

  A few guys went to the bar, probably for a chat and sticking to non-alcoholic drinks.

  The others wandered in the direction of their hotel suites. Several of the guys went into Davide's room for a card game.

  "Who's coming?" Davide asked, apparently addressing everyone, but looking at Carlos.

  "I might come along later. Stuff to do." Carlos felt like a nervous, panicked teenager as he and Harry were about to part company for the night. Splitting up was something Carlos didn't want to do.

  Chris paused on his way into Davide's suite. "Carl, you two aren't planning to hang out alone are you?" asked Chris. "What are you two, like, boyfriends or something?"

  Carlos's insides turned over. Was it that obvious to everyone that he was moping around Harry like a lovesick teenager, and had been for weeks? He was infatuated and unable to do anything about it.

  Had Harry noticed?

  "Don't be ridiculous," said Harry and he went to his room without glancing at Carlos.

  After briefly visiting his own suite, Carlos made his way to Harry's room and knocked on the door. He deliberately didn't pause at the door, but burst into the room when Harry opened it.

  Despite a jumble of emotions, Carlos attempted to swagger in, calm and casual, a look he always wore so well. He was determined things wouldn't get weird between them. After all, Harry had no idea about the enormous crush Carlos had on him, so why should anything change?

  Carlos sat on the bed, grabbed the remote control, and stared at the TV. "I thought we could hang out for a while."

  He had crazy feelings of being drawn to the guy. And the more he was with him, the more he liked him and found him damned attractive. What the fuck?!

  Whatever it could be called, bromance, friendship, they had chemistry together. They got on well together, and this could be so much more.

  Chemistry! Carlos was attracted to Harry like he'd never been attracted to a man before, and like he'd never been attracted to a woman before, for that matter. And he'd never got on with anyone as well as he got on with Harry.

  Carlos had no problem with sexuality, no problem with finding men attractive, no problem acknowledging to himself that he was bisexual. But maybe he wasn't. He was just Harry-sexual. At least he'd like to find out.

  Glimpses in the locker room and shower confirmed everything Carlos suspected. When it came right down to it, Harry, who was so modest and timid and unassuming, was so damned sexy. Carlos wanted to touch Harry's body all over.

  Carlos had never looked forward to a day at work so much as he did at BSC. He always got in early. He loved playing football. He enjoyed training and hanging out with the guys. There was something even better than all of that, and it was the chance to see and spend time with Harry every day. And on the night before a match, they could spend much of the evening together in a hotel room.

  HARRY

  Entering the hotel room in bare feet, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, Carlos didn't wait for the invitation. He went straight to the TV, picked up the remote control and stretched out on the bed.

  "Make yourself at home why don't you?"

  "It's early. I figured you could do with the company."

  "If I wanted company, I could have joined the guys in the bar, or lads going swimming, or the poker tournaments in Davide's room."

  "Those are very specific activities. I thought we could chill out like we do at home. Watch a film or TV or something. And perhaps you wanted some company, just not their company."

  "You are right. They get a bit much sometimes." With their twenty-four-seven heteronormative take on the world. "But what about you? You visit me at home. Sit next to me on the bench, at dinner, at breakfast, and now you're here." The other players are gossiping. Leave me alone!

  "I thought you liked having me around. Are you bored with me already?" Carlos's face dropped, and the tone of his voice slipped to pathetic.

  "If I could choose my stalker, it would be you. Is that reassuring enough?"

  "You don't think of me as a stalker, d
o you?"

  "Of course not. And I don't think of you as the kind of guy who needs reassurance. What has gotten into you?"

  "Why shouldn't I want to hang out with you?"

  Is he serious? Does that need an answer? Carlos was obviously taking his time discovering who the coolest guys were on the team to hang out with.

  "No reason. You obviously have good taste. Have you any preference in TV viewing for the evening? I've not checked what's on."

  Grabbing extra pillows from the closet, Harry plodded over to the bed and lay down on the vacant side.

  "I have been thinking about the conversation we had the other day at breakfast." Carlos could hardly have been more vague.

  "Which one?"

  He could have imagined it, but it looked as if Harry knew exactly which conversation Carlos was referring to, despite the fact that they had breakfast together five days a week.

  "I didn't realize you were one of the club's practicing Christians."

  "That's not how I see myself, either. I was brought up in a religious family, we attended church every week, and Sunday school. But now I just take my mom to church at Christmas and Easter and perhaps a few times through the year."

  "I see. So you don't go every week." Carlos turned on the TV.

  "No, just now and again. It makes her happy."

  "Next time you go, I wondered if I could come along?"

  "You want to get up early on a Sunday morning and go with me, meet my mom, and go to church?"

  "If that's what you do a Sunday morning, then yes. Can I tag along?"

  "I don't go every Sunday. Why do you want to come?"

  "I like hanging out with you. I'd like to know about your church. I went to a Catholic church in Spain as a young kid, but dropped it when we moved to England. When are you going next? For Christmas?"

  "Christmas Eve, yes. I'm going this Sunday, too, the day after tomorrow."

  "I know how to behave in church, you know."