Cocky Batter

by Drake Rockford

  Adrian rubbed Dale’s head condescendingly. “My dear, dumb Watson. The solution is quite elementary. Don’t tell your dad.”

  “The school—”

  “Dropped out of the NCAA. Heard you, know all about it. More than you, apparently. Leaving the NCAA means the Wolves are gonna be independent, not disbanded. You can still play competitive sports in Division III with the Mid Atlantic Conference.”

  “Division III! That’s like going back to little league!”

  “No, it’s not. Those guys are every bit as good as we are. Some are better. And like you give a shit. You want to stay or not?”

  “Are you saying you want me to stay?”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “Well, since put it that way, I’ll stay.”

  “Good. Because I’m not sure what I would do without a competent adversary to keep me entertained all summer.” Adrian slammed another beer in front of Dale. “Now that that’s settled, we have more important things to discuss.”

  “The paper.”

  Adrian shook his head and guzzled his beer. He belched loudly. “Nah, that’s for after. First, we gonna talk about tonight.”

  Dale perked up immediately. He straightened his back to lift his head and asked, “What about tonight?”

  “Are you gonna go in those sweats?”

  Dale’s gray sweats were covered in white salt stains from his perspiration. He rubbed one as if he could brush the streak away. “I figured you’d lend me something.”

  “Do I look like I can squeeze into your tight ass jeans?”

  Dale looked him up and down. “I doubt it, Hulk.”

  “Then what makes you think my clothes won’t swim all over you?”

  “Damn! I was so busy trying to get into your pants, I thought I could do it literally.”

  “Dammit, Dale! Stop that gay shit.”

  “You love it,” teased Dale. “Fucking breeders. Always objecting loud enough for the neighbors to hear except when your cock is stuck in some anonymous dude’s mouth behind a glory hole.”

  “Hey! That anonymous mouth could be a chick, remember?”

  “Could be. Not likely. Got your dick sucked by a tranny. I think you’re a quarter gay now, maybe even a third. Wanna make it half?” He pantomimed sucking his empty beer can. “The boys call me Deeper Throat.”

  “Keep it up. I’m gonna pound you.”

  Dale shook his head and winked. “You make it too easy, Chambers.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Let’s go to the mall. I need to buy an outfit.”

  “The mall? Together? People will see us. What would it look like, me fraternizing with the enemy?”

  “Dude, we fraternize all the time at the bar.”

  “No. You antagonize. I ignore you.”

  “Whatever,” said Dale. “I’ll treat you to something stylish, too. You could use a little gaying up. You dress like shit.”

  “Man, fuck you.”

  “Later. I promise.”

  This time Adrian didn’t voice repulsion. He instead sneaked a peek at Dale’s ass. What would it be like to fuck Dale?

  Wouldn’t that be the ultimate win over his sometimes nemesis?

  Chapter 5: The Frat House

  What the hell was wrong with him? Looking at Dale’s ass the same way he stared at the cheerleaders! Must be the damned beer going to his head. If he could have, he would have clobbered himself good.

  Adrian shuddered, thankful Dale hadn't caught him staring.

  Dale was at the door, his hand on the knob and already turning when he stopped. He slowly spun around and gazed at Adrian quizzically, like he had felt Adrian’s eyes on his ass, spreading his cheeks with his mind and pushing himself deep inside.

  Dale cocked his head to the side and brought a finger to his lips. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered. He then yanked on the knob. The door flew open and Pete and Rudy tumbled in atop each other with foolish grins on their faces.

  Pete stood quickly. Rudy reached a hand up for help, but Pete swatted it away. “What are you butt pirates doing?” he asked.

  “Nothing!” proclaimed Adrian a little too loud. Then, “Drinking a few beers. What’s it to you?”

  He wondered if they had been listening very long and what they might have heard. Had he or Dale said anything questionable?

  Rudy rubbed dust off his pants and thanked Dale for helping him up. Then he turned his squat body towards his teammate and said, “We texted you a few times. You, too, Dale. The gang is down at the Frat House getting sloshed already.”

  “The bartender cut the tap off,” added Pete, “until we fork over some dough.” He stared at Dale. “We figured you butt pirates were hiding out here.”

  Adrian took a halfhearted swing at Pete. It fell well short and would have even if Pete hadn’t leaned back.

  “You’ve got some nerve, you perverted asshole. Dale needed a change of clothes. He was looking for something in my closet.”

  “What’d he find—you?”

  “He found your mother!”

  “Knock it off,” interjected Rudy. “You guys are worse than my bratty ass brothers. Kiss and make up so we can get back to the bar and get shitfaced on Dale’s good money.”

  Adrian and Pete chuckled and pounded their knuckles together. “I bet I can out-drink your skinny ass, Pete.”

  “That’s not fair! You weigh a buck more than me. Bet me in a race from here to the Frat House. That’s fair.”

  “Not with those praying mantis legs of yours.” Adrian nudged Rudy as they left the apartment. “How do you put up with his cheatin’ ass?”

  Rudy shrugged. “He grows on you. Like a fungus.”

  With that Rudy took off and Pete gave chase. Rudy weaved and dodged fast enough to escape Pete’s grasp each time he reached to yank his friend back by the collar. At this rate, they’d cover the ten-minute walk in a quarter of the time.

  Dale looked at Adrian and sighed. “We can go to the mall after I pay the tab.”

  "No sweat," said Adrian. “There's time.”

  For several blocks, they walked in silence as dusk settled over the streets. Then Dale cleared his throat and Adrian glanced over at him.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on, Dale. I know you well enough to tell that constipated look of desire and disappointment. What's wrong?”

  “Nothing,” repeated Dale. “I was just wondering if you were, you know, embarrassed to be caught alone with me? In your apartment?”

  Adrian stopped and pulled Dale back a pace, close to him, as close as when they had sat side by side on the locker room bench earlier.

  “First of all, we weren’t caught because we weren’t doing anything. Second, you don’t fucking embarrass me. I’m not ashamed about anything I do or anyone I hang with. What’s wrong with you?"

  Dale shook his head. “Nothing,” he said for a third time. “It's just I know how people get. You know: okay to chill behind closed doors but ashamed to be seen in public. And you said we shouldn’t go to the mall together.”

  “I was joking, you douchebag. Don't go all gay on me. No pussies, remember?”

  Dale smirked and started walking again. “What I've got is tighter than any pussy you’ve ever had. I’ll make you cum with one clench of my sphincter.”

  “Dale!”

  He grinned lecherously. “What?”

  Adrian sighed. “You’re testing my limits, aren’t you?”

  “A little,” admitted Dale. “Mostly because I like to see you blush. But also because you’re pretty cool for a breeder.”

  "You know that no longer only means straight, right?"

  Surprise spread over Dale's face. “How'd you know that?”

  “Porn. Lots and lots of glorious porn.”

  They arrived at The Frat House. Adrian grabbed Dale by the elbow before he entered. “Let’s have a few drinks with the boys. Maybe play a game of foosball.”

  Dale shook his head.
“I suck at that game. How about pool?”

  Adrian twisted his lips in indifference. “Whatever. I'll cream you no matter what game we play.”

  “Is that right?” Dale pushed open the door and a moment later a chorus of boos greeted him, but in good-natured fun. Then, as Adrian entered, a chorus of cheers and the quick chant of “Chambers! Chambers!” filled the room.

  Adrian bowed like royalty and several dry pretzels pelted him in the head. A teammate came over and thrust a bottle of beer into both Dale and Adrian's hands.

  “Those are on me,” he said to Dale and then hurried off, howling in some poor imitation of a wolf.

  “You’ve got some crazy good friends, Chambers.”

  Adrian chugged his beer. “They’re your friends, too, Dale.” He belched loudly to nearby snickers of approval. “Remember that, ok? In case those douchebags you call a team ever give you trouble.”

  "They’re not all douchebags," said Dale. “Just most of them. But don’t worry. I can handle them.”

  Adrian pointed to the unattended billiard table. “Can you handle me?”

  “I've been handling you since the first day I shook your hand.”

  Adrian laughed. “You cocky bastard! Ok, show me what you’ve got.”

  Dale feigned bashfulness. “Here?”

  “Har har, you cocksucker. Let’s go. Rack ‘em up.”

  Dale organized the balls in the center of the table and then stepped aside. Adrian bent and angled his body over the edge of the table for a better shot. He stretched his torso to aim his cue stick at the triangular cluster of balls, once again pushing his ass on display. Dale whistled. The gathering crowd laughed and added kissy sound effects.

  Adrian ignored them and thrust the stick forward, breaking the cluster apart with a resounding crack. The force of his strike scattered the balls to the edges and corners of the table, sinking several balls at once.

  He turned and winked at Dale. “Gonna crush you, D. No matter how many balls you miraculously pocket, you lost the game the moment you let me break.”

  Adrian sank one ball after another, each time smirking at the pained expression on Dale’s face while he waited his turn.

  Behind Dale stood Pete and Rudy; Pete pestering him for his credit card and Rudy offering wasted encouragement.

  “Which one of you losers wants a taste next?” Adrian boasted.

  Dale jabbed his pool stick toward him. “You're a dirty hustler, you know that Chambers?”

  “I didn't hustle you. I told you I would whip your ass. You didn't believe me.”

  Dale missed his shot and stepped back. He handed Pete a credit card to charge the tab and motioned for Adrian to get on with the game.

  The little group had started their chant again as Adrian sank his remaining balls. He lined up the eight ball for victory.

  “Hey!” Adrian called to Dale, who was glancing around the room speculatively. “Watch and learn.”

  Dale flipped Adrian the bird and turned to Rudy beside him, still nursing a bottle of Indian Pale Ale. “What's Adrian bad at?”

  “Darts?” replied Rudy, his tone expressing doubt.

  “Negative,” said Dale. “He's bested me at that a dozen times.”

  Adrian glanced over his shoulder. “Knuckleheads, you’re not whispering,” he snapped. “I’m great at everything. I’m the GOAT!”

  Rudy matched Adrian’s volume. “People let you win because you’re a brute.”

  Adrian sneered and pretended to charge at him, but Rudy waved him off and turned to Dale.

  “Foosball?" suggested Rudy loudly. "He never plays that.”

  Dale sighed incredulously. “You're kidding me, right?”

  Rudy drank the rest of his IPA. “Nope. Adrian never plays. Not once in all the time I’ve known him, since freshman year. I don’t think he likes it.” Rudy raised his voice again. “Do you, Adrian?”

  “Nope.”

  Dale practically screeched with astonishment. “Then why the hell did you offer to play me earlier?”

  Adrian gazed from Dale to the foosball table and shrugged. “I wanted to try something new with you.” He turned back to the table and sank the last ball. “Game!” He wagged his tongue at Dale. “Wanna lose again?”

  “Teams,” said Dale. “Me and Rudy against you and Pete.”

  “Saddle me with the lush, huh? No sweat.” He turned to Rudy. “Go grab your butt buddy from the bar.”

  Rudy flipped his middle finger yet went without a word to retrieve Pete.

  “You guys are worse than my teammates,” observed Dale.

  Adrian wagged his index finger. “Nah. With us, it’s just a bit of fun. With those douchebags it’s real.”

  “Why is that?” asked Dale. He lowered the triangle over the balls again and scooted them to the middle of the table. “I know there’s more diversity in the city, but come on. Attitudes aren’t that different are they?”

  “A big, diverse city compared to a small, near-heterogeneous conservative town? Night and day, Dale. You know that.”

  “Honestly, I don't know the city all that much. Just a few spots I feel comfortable in, mostly gay bars.”

  “And here,” said Pete, sidling up beside Dale. He bumped against him and sloshed his drink on Dale’s shoes. “You spend enough time here. With us. I always thought you were trying to get at my cock, but you really want the Incredible Doofus.”

  Dale pushed Pete away. “You're drunk. And partners with that Incredible Doofus.”

  “Hey!” Adrian complained. “I’m right here.”

  “Oh,” said Pete absently. He motioned at Rudy. “Get me another martini, Rudester.”

  “Nope. You're cut off; bartender’s orders.”

  “Man, fuck him. He’s mad because he won’t let me suck my dick.”

  The trio laughed. “He what?”

  Rudy shook his head. “That was a different bar. A different dude, Pete.”

  “I'd let you suck your own dick,” teased Dale.

  Adrian snorted. “He can't reach his own dick.”

  “But your mom can,” Pete shot back. The force of the declaration seemed to knock the wind from him and he stumbled backward, landing in Adrian’s arms. “Hulk to the muthafuckin’ rescue,” he muttered and then stood upright. “Thanks, bro.”

  “We gonna play or not?” urged Adrian.

  “Even with that drunk ass on your side?”

  “I can carry him. Even drunk he plays better than Rudy.”

  Dale turned to Rudy for confirmation. Rudy shrugged. “Oh, fuck me!” Dale tossed his pool stick aside and crossed his arms in a childish pout.

  “Come here.” Pete smoothly grabbed Dale by the waist. He was able to give Dale three hard thrusts to his backside before Dale clawed his way free.

  “Damn, he’s strong for a skinny drunkard!”

  “Tell me about it,” said Rudy with a roll of his eyes. Then, belatedly, he explained, “He's never tried to fuck me! But try pulling him out the door. He’s like skinny Hercules.”

  “Hey douchebags,” complained Pete. “You’re hurtin’ my feelings, here!”

  Behind them, someone laughed. Pete spun around quick as Flash and grabbed the offender by the throat. “What are you laughing at?”

  Adrian yanked Pete away and pushed him against the pool table. “Cool it, Pete! No more martinis. They kick your skinny ass. Want a beer?”

  Pete nodded. Adrian exchanged a knowing glance with Rudy and he went away, returning shortly with a plastic cup of beer.

  Dale watched, aghast, as Pete drowned it in three consecutive gulps. “Are you crazy? Giving him more alcohol?”

  “Don’t worry,” assured Rudy. “It's mostly water. We pour half off and add lemon tonic.”

  “Isn’t that noticeable?”

  “Yep. Tastes like watered-down piss. Or Coors Lite. Either way, he can’t tell the difference.”

  “I've never seen Pete this drunk.”

  “You've never given him an open tab before,” sa
id Rudy and laughed. “He usually sticks to beer because he’s too cheap to buy martinis himself.”

  “Good Lord,” said Dale. “The things I must be missing while stuck in my shitty town.”

  “Like good pussy,” said Rudy.

  “Good dick,” corrected Pete. “Or did you already get some of that big jolly green today?”

  “Okay, that's it.” Adrian laid his cue stick across the table. “Game's over. Dale, close the tab. Rudy, sober the pervert up.”

  “Hey, I'm joking, Chambers. Come on, bro. Don’t be a fag about it.”

  Adrian pushed passed them and went to the bartender. He brought back a bottle of water and shoved it at Pete. “Drink.”

  Pete begrudgingly snatched the water and guzzled it. He tossed the plastic container into a group across the room and blinked rapidly. “Two more of those and I'll be ready to go to the next spot.”

  Dale scoffed. “No way will three bottles of water sober you up.”

  “I didn't say sober, buttmuncher. I said ‘ready’.” He grinned and wagged his tongue. “You got to suck on the Jolly Green Giant’s beanstalk, but I ain’t get my share of pussy, yet. So take us to get laid.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you, dude.” Pete draped his arm around Dale and pulled him close. “I know this sausage-fest is getting your rocks off, but we Three Musketeers need a little coochy thrown in to mix things up. Where’s your fag hags at?”

  Dale shrugged him off. “Pete, if you weren’t cute you’d be a lonely sonofabitch.”

  “But I am cute,” boasted Pete. “So take me to the pussy. Unless you wanna suck me off. I don’t care, so long as my dick gets wet tonight.”

  “Gross.” Dale glanced at Adrian. “Addy, are you up for a little adventure?”

  “He’s up for it,” interjected Pete. “Come on, Addy. Bring your ugly ass to find some skanks! That’s the only way you’ll get laid tonight.”

  “I could fuck your mom,” said Adrian, but without the usual energy for a verbal spar. He was carefully watching his teammates with red Dixie cups in hand, many already drunker than Pete and sloshing their drinks on everyone they walked passed. “What do you have in mind?”

  “A little walk on the wild side.” Dale regarded Rudy. “You in?”