Later that afternoon, Sam headed out with the rest of the football team to celebrate. The pub was filled with the usual Sunday lunch crowd and the few of them who were up for a drink after the match managed to snag a table at convenient spot close to the window and squeeze themselves around the table. A lot of the players had responsibilities — work, families etc — and were expected to attend to that first so it was just Sam and Clay, Frank and a few of the single, unemployed lads hanging out. The pub was doing bar snacks as well as roast dinners, so they ordered some burgers and chips to soak up the beer and settled down for a couple of pints and postmortem of the match.

Sam was squeezed in between Clay and another red head lad called Bruce.

Frank sat opposite with Gideon and Gabriel, two blond twins who were mid-fielders. Clay was particularly quiet, Sam noticed, laughing along to the friendly banter around the table but not contributing much. He seemed perfectly comfortable though and Sam liked having him here. With him.

Liked being seen together. He noticed Frank looking at Clay with an envious glint and felt a flare of possessiveness which pushed him to put his hand on Clay's thigh, a small gesture of intimacy and ownership, which made Clay turn to give him a quick, shy smile and everything in the world felt right at that moment.

After a couple more bottles, they all got wild and louder - more relaxed. With alcohol blurring his vision and making the whole room appear to be swinging, Sam found himself wanting to touch Clay more and more. Just casual touches, nothing too extreme, but he couldn't help himself, snaking his hand higher and higher up Clay's thigh till he undid his fly and began stroking the red head's dick, smirking as he passed Clay another bottle. Clay drew in a sharp breath which was lost upon the noise and slurred conversations as he leaned back against his seat, giving Sam full access to his balls. That warm bubble of desire grew in Sam's belly, impossible to ignore and he tried to write it off as the high after his goal, to blame it on the four pints of beer buzzing through his system but when Clay responded in kind, writhing as he tried to act normal and suppress the pleasure Sam was subjecting him to, he felt happiness swell and expand, filling his chest as he retrieved his hand.

When Sam went into the toilet to ease himself off that beer in his system, Frank followed him in.

"So, have you told Clay how you feel about him? Don't think I didn't notice what you two were doing underneath the table. We did that once, remember?” Frank smirked, never one to beat around the bush. He cornered Sam at the urinals as they stood side by side, piss splattering on the porcelain.

"That I think he's hot and a nice guy? Yeah, done that." Sam finished off and tucked himself away, fumbling with his zipper. "But you know me well. It's not that serious."

Frank sighed. "Poor, poor Clay. I was rooting for you both." Frank was beside him at the sinks now, his pale green eyes fixed on Sam's in the mirror. "But seriously though, he might not be seeing what you both have as a casual thing. Remember how we were? I was telling myself that no matter what won't fall for you but look how we ended up. I fell so hard and flat on my shit-face."

Sam flushed and looked away. "I'm so sorry, Frank."

He still felt guilty about the brunette. What they had had been fun until Frank wanted more, and Sam never meant to hurt him.

"It's okay." Frank laughed. "I'm over it...Over you. Glad l found someone better, but I see how you look at Clay, and if you really think you don't have feelings for him, then you're kidding yours but if it helps, he looks pretty smitten over you too."

"I don't know. I don't think he's looking for something serious. He just came out of the closet, and I don't want to complicate his life further."

The thought occurred to Sam that if Clay did want a relationship, he'd probably be with someone younger and responsible, who earned way more money and didn't depend on his family at all, someone educated. Sam wasn't exactly the catch of the century. "I'm not sure I'd be the right man for him even if he was."

Frank backed off, seeming to realize that Sam wasn't going to be convinced. A sly grin stretched over his face. "So, is he a good bottom, then? Does he bend over for you and beg for your porn star dick like I did? You used to love that."

Sam had always topped Frank, but Frank had never minded given he liked being dominated. He'd suggested they switch once, but Sam hadn't been so eager. It wasn't that Sam didn't like bottoming, it just made him feel awkward and uncomfortable, and since Frank was happy to be fucked, they just stuck with that.

He felt the heat crawl up his neck and face as he tried to think of a suitable answer to that question. He didn't want to discuss the details of his sex life with Frank of all people; it didn't seem fair to Clay. But his silence gave the brunette all the answers he needed.

"Ohhhh, shit, really? You're letting him top you?" Frank sounded incredulous. “And you're saying you don't have feelings for him?"

"Listen, it's no big deal." Sam rolled his eyes at how immature Frank was being. He wanted this conversation to be over already.

"Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that until you actually believe it." Frank patted his back, shaking his head in amusement as Sam pushed past him and made his way out into the bar. "No big deal at all."