Cocky Batter

by Drake Rockford

  “It’s around back. You need a key. Besides, you don’t need to be cleaning up after me.”

  “Someone should. You’re a pig. Oink oink.”

  “Hardy har har,” said Adrian. He made a show of sniffing the air. “I’m not the one still wearing that noxious scent of intoxication and ass. You want a towel to shower?”

  Dale hefted the overflowing basket of dirty clothes. “Clean?”

  “Semi,” said Adrian. He tossed his used towel on top of Dale’s head. “If you don’t mind the damp.”

  Dale flung the towel like a dog shaking off water. “I’ll survive until I get home.”

  “I’m kidding. There are dry towels in the bathroom, under the sink.”

  “Oh, ok. I’ll shower after breakfast—or lunch, I suppose.”

  “How late is it?” Adrian grabbed his cellphone from the desk. “Oh, damn. We got trashed!” His laughter was cut short by Dale’s perplexed expression. “What?”

  “About last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did we—?”

  “No!” Adrian forced a chuckle. “You wish, you fucking butt pirate.”

  Dale grinned that sheepish grin from yesterday at the dugout. And Adrian realized that was Dale’s version of embarrassment. The crack in his perpetual armor of confidence.

  “The last thing I remember is ordering pizza,” admitted Dale.

  “Well, don’t worry. I remember you passing out with a half-eaten slice of pizza in your hand,” lied Adrian. “And you kept eating it in your sleep.”

  “Laugh out loud! And then?”

  “Guess I passed out beside you!”

  Dale laughed so hard he dropped the laundry basket. “So who won the bet?”

  “I dunno. But last night was a blast!”

  Adrian frowned when he realized what he admitted. An amazing time flirting with a guy and watching Dale screw some noisy little twink? Then he shrugged. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself, too.”

  “Who wouldn’t? Did you see that guy’s ass?”

  “Yeah! What’s up with that? Didn’t even look real.”

  “It felt real,” laughed Dale. “He’s a ballet dancer.”

  “So?”

  “So?” echoed Dale. “You poor, sad breeder. It means his ass is real. It’s lean and firm from all the squatting and twirling and whatnot.” He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “You guess? What kind of gay are you! I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to surrender your membership card.”

  Adrian thrust his hand forward, a big toothy grin on his face.

  Dale matched it. “You want my credentials, breeder? Come take ‘em!”

  Dale turned to rush for the bathroom and Adrian pounced at the same time. He was on him before he had even moved three steps. He grabbed Dale at the shoulders, but his grip was weak and his hands slid down Dale’s back.

  Adrian grabbed a handful of shirt and—as he stumbled over the fallen basket—pulled Dale down to the floor with him. His hands slipped further as he grabbed for purchase. To his chagrin, Dale’s sweats came down with them, exposing through a jockstrap the creamy orbs of his pale, freckled butt.

  “Hey, watch those big-ass paws,” cried Dale through his laughter. “Goddamned muscle bear! I’m delicate you know. I bruise easy.”

  “Shut up and come here!”

  Dale flipped on his back and scooted away, his bare ass squeaking against the waxed floor. Adrian scurried with him, pulling at the sweats to slow Dale down, who was giggling and flailing his legs. The cotton pants bunched up around his ankles as Dale kicked and shimmied to free himself while Adrian dragged him back, closer to his grinning face. A foot smashed into Adrian’s mouth and the grin transformed into a crazed scowl of pain.

  “Sonofabitch!”

  Adrian hooked his hands around Dale’s ankles and with one forceful yank, dragged him until he was almost halfway under Adrian’s hulking body. Another yank brought them face to face and Adrian climbed atop Dale, resting on his knees and haunches as he towered above Dale, whose grin vanished behind a mask of uncertainty.

  “Hey, chill out.” Dale held his hands against Adrian’s chest, attempting to push him off, but he was too heavy to budge even an inch. “Chill,” insisted Dale. “It was an accident.”

  Adrian pulled his arm back. His hand balled up tight enough to make his biceps look like a baseball trapped beneath his skin. He flexed and the muscles strained against his skin, his veins bulging. He brought his fist down hard.

  Dale cried out. “Dude!” His body went motionless and he closed his eyes, his breath caught in his throat.

  Adrian’s fist opened at the last moment and his palm slammed against the hardwood next to Dale’s head. Dale jerked aside and opened his eyes. A self-satisfied, shit-eating grin greeted him.

  “You fucking monster,” sputtered Dale, once more able to breathe as the air left his nostrils and shook his whole body. Then he laughed. “God, I thought you were gonna kill me!”

  Adrian sat back on his haunches, his buttocks hovering above Dale’s crotch. He brought his other hand down on the other side of Dale’s head and leaned in close. “Who says I won’t?”

  Dale smiled easily again. “If you were gonna hit me, you would have done it then. You’re just a big Teddy Bear, aren’t you?” He leaned up on his elbows, inadvertently bringing their faces within kissing distance.

  Adrian leaned back a little, resting his butt on Dale’s lap. But he remained hunched over and grinning at Dale. As Dale’s bemused gaze turned to one of admiration, his own grin faded and he stared back with a brooding scowl, his chest rising and falling. He realized that Dale still held his hands against his chest.

  Adrian sat there a moment, listening to their breathing compete with one another, and gazing into Dale’s blue eyes, still tinged with a hint of shock.

  “I’m not gonna hit you,” said Adrian. “That’s not the kinda guy I am.”

  He raised his hands away from Dale’s face to grip his wrists. Then, he guided Dale’s arms to his sides and pinned them there. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He leaned down, his mouth lowering closer to Dale’s. He parted his lips and Dale closed his eyes, but not in fear this time. He could see the quiver of Dale’s pouty, red lips as they parted, anticipating the meeting of their mouths for the first time.

  Then Adrian stuffed a dirty sock in his mouth and laughed. “You wish, butt pirate!”

  Dale gagged and spit out the offending cloth. He bucked his hips to free himself, but Adrian stayed put. “Eww. Get off of me, you dick!”

  “Me? You’re the one shoving a chubby against my ass. You really want me, don’t you?”

  Dale laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself. My cock responds to friction from anything and anybody. Now let me up, Chambers. We’ve got a lot to do before the show if you want to pass that class. And I need a shower.”

  “Cold shower,” goaded Adrian. “Don’t come back out here sporting wood again.”

  He released Dale from his hold and helped him up, then gave him a shove towards the bathroom for good measure. Rather than pull up his sweatpants, Dale bent over and pulled them off, mooning Adrian in the process.

  He then turned and winked at Adrian. “Do something about that tent in your pants, Addy. You might give a player the wrong impression.”

  Adrian scowled but said nothing. He watched Dale take a purposeful slow walk into the bathroom, the round curves of his ass jiggling ever so slightly with each step.

  He kept staring long after the door had shut.

  Chapter 11: Heart to Heart

  The laundry room housed three washing machines and three dryers. It had been intended for half the current units in the building before the remodeling of the third floor doubled the occupancy. Before the landlord added the studios and efficiencies, that floor had been rarely used individual storage space. Most tenants installed machines in their apartments because the laundering area was both inconvenient and coin-operated. Which left th
e laundromat often deserted, with films of dust collecting between uses.

  Adrian once suspected he was the only person to use the room. To confirm it he'd fastened the machine lids down with Scotch tape and traced his name on top. The next time he'd visited, a month later, a layer of grime camouflaged both his name and the tape.

  Now, as he pushed open the door while balancing the basket of clothes on his hip, he felt grateful for the private use. He didn't want to risk neighbors seeing him washing another man's uniform and sweats, or seeing Dale hanging about inside with him. He knew well why he felt the sudden bout of embarrassment: washing clothes together was something couples or gay men did; not straight friends.

  Yet, he was the one who boldly entered the bathroom while Dale was showering. He had grabbed the dirty clothes and then informed Dale he'd be waiting in the laundry room when he finished. He'd suggested Dale find something to wear while he laundered last night's outfits. The last thing he wanted now was for someone to see Dale parading around in his oversized clothes like a girl in a lumberjack shirt.

  I could have told him to wait upstairs. Or not told him anything at all.

  But he had let Dale know so that Dale could come keep him company for a few hours. Why? Because he didn't want to be alone in the apartment with Dale, for one. As if temptation would overcome him should Dale pop out of the shower buck naked and offer himself to Adrian in that half-hearted joking manner that scarcely masked his hope.

  And for two, because he wanted Dale here with him, shooting the breeze about things Adrian never chatted with Pete and Rudy about. With those two, conversation revolved around pussy and sports, and the occasional bemoaning about shitty teachers.

  Dale was different. Sophisticated, and yet as foul-mouthed as Pete or Rudy when he wanted to be. He was like the best friend or brother Adrian always wanted. Well, not a brother. He would have never thought of fucking his brother. But that thought had fleeted through his mind about Dale while he took care of the erection that had sprouted when they wrestled.

  “Fuck! What is wrong with me?”

  Adrian dropped the basket on the ground and jammed quarters into the coin slot. He took the detergent from atop the pile and set it aside. Lifting the lid with one hand, he used the other to hoist the basket and dumped its contents into the drum. He slammed the quarters into the machine and then dumped the powder detergent onto the clothes, watching as half the box poured in.

  Behind him, someone banged on the door. He turned to see Dale gazing through the window and motioning to the knob.

  Adrian opened the door.

  Dale rushed in, snatching the detergent from Adrian's hand as he went to the old fashioned washing machine and pressed the control dial to stop the water.

  He turned to Adrian. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?”

  “Looks like you’re trying to overflow the room with suds. That's too much soap!” He scanned the room intently, landing on the empty basket before regarding Adrian again. “Where's the rest of the clothes?”

  Adrian pointed to the machine. “They’re all in there.”

  Dale’s mouth fell agape. “The colors and whites together?” He started digging through the clothes, pulling out bright, colored garments while laughing and shaking his head. “Don't you know better than—never mind. I see I’ve a lot to teach you.”

  Adrian made a sputtering sound with his lips. “Puhleeze. What are you gonna teach me? Besides how to be gay?”

  “Chambers, you’ll wish you were gay when you see how much pussy girls throw at us in an attempt to convert us.”

  “I’m good, Dale. I know how to get girls. And I know how to wash clothes.”

  “Do you?”

  “Know how to get girls? Or wash clothes?”

  “Exactly.” Dale smirked. “The fact that you need to ask for clarification says it all.”

  Adrian pushed Dale against the machine and stepped in front of him to block any movement. “You've got a big mouth, Dale. You know that?”

  “Yes, I'm quite talented,” said Dale. “As you saw for yourself.”

  Without thinking, Adrian grabbed Dale's arms—bare in the large tank top he’d borrowed—and pinned them against his sides. He leaned into Dale, chest to chest, and dared him to open his mouth again.

  Dale blew a kiss and Adrian stumbled backward like he’d been sucker-punched.

  “God, you're gay.” He wiped his mouth, even though Dale hadn’t kissed him. “God. Let’s just do the clothes, already.”

  Dale restarted the machine and placed the fished clothes into a separate one. He held his hand out and then fed the quarters Adrian gave him into the machine. He sprinkled a little detergent in, raising his eyebrows at Adrian as he did so, and then shut the lid.

  He boosted himself onto the machine and drummed his feet against the frame. “So, Chambers. What's on your mind?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “You seem a little anxious or upset. Is last night starting to dawn on you?”

  Adrian shook his head in exasperation. “I told you before: I don’t feel shame about anything I do. So there’s nothing to 'dawn' on me."

  “Then?”

  Adrian hopped up on the machine next to Dale’s. “The truth is, I’m kinda annoyed that you’re going home today. I like having you around to shoot the shit with.”

  “You’ve got the Neanderthals,” Dale replied with a chuckle. “All they do is talk shit.”

  “That's what I’m saying. We never have serious talks like you and me did about your dad. Or sexuality.” Adrian quickly hit him and ordered, “No jokes!”

  Dale smiled. “I know when to be serious, Addy.”

  “Yeah. I like that. I love Pete and Rudy, but those guys are loud and goofy. Well, Pete is. Rudy is a fucking mouse when Pete’s not around.”

  Dale nodded. “Yeah, I know. I spent a lot of time with them when you were drawing a line in the dirt between us. Pete needles the shit out of Rudy, but he also brings Rudy out of his shell. They’re best buds. Nothing comes between them.”

  “You got all that from a few drinks with them?”

  Dale nodded. “But lots of drinks. All those times you ditched us at the bar to go workout or practice, we’d go to another club and get wasted. Pete talks a lot when he’s drunk.”

  Adrian glanced over at Dale. “What about?” But he suspected he knew very well what about.

  Dale confirmed it. “About you.”

  Adrian huffed. “Let me guess: You prodded him for info and he sang like a bird?”

  “Nope. Didn’t need to prod him. I’d bring your name up and he’d sing your praises. I got the feeling he was sizing me up most of the time to see if I was worthy of you. Playing matchmaker.”

  “Fuck him. He wants everyone to be perverted like him.”

  Dale slowed his kicking on the machine and then stopped. He didn’t turn to look at Adrian, but Adrian felt like he was under his microscope anyway.

  “I don't mean that being gay is a pervasion.”

  “I know,” replied Dale cheerfully. “Pete is definitely weird. I was just wondering why he’s so fond of you. You two don’t strike me as having many commonalities or intimate dialogues. Yet, he feels close enough to you to play cupid. What’s so special about you, Addy?”

  Adrian searched Dale’s face for any glimmer of ridicule, but saw none, though he supposed it’d be hard to spot from a side profile. Still, he was confident Dale was genuinely curious.

  “Pete and I have a history of sorts. I took care of some trouble for him once.”

  “Must’ve been huge.”

  Adrian nodded. “It was expulsion huge. Almost got me kicked out. Instead, it led me to baseball.”

  “And Rudy?”

  “What about him?”

  “Why does he admire you?”

  Adrian shrugged. “Because I saved his best friend.”

  Dale tapped Adrian on the knee. “If Rudy is Pete’s best friend, who’s yours?” />
  “No one. I’m a loner, remember?”

  “That’s romance. Friendship is different. Everyone has a best friend.”

  “Not me.”

  “Not even a childhood bestie?”

  Adrian jumped down and walked to the door. He blew his breath against the small window and wrote his name in the fading fog on the glass pane. He spoke without turning around.

  “I didn’t have many childhood friends. I wasn’t popular. Friends didn’t show up in my life until—” He hesitated and turned to Dale. “Until Pete and Rudy, to be honest. I was an outcast before college.”

  “Like me,” sympathized Dale. “For being gay.”

  “Yeah. Like you. But not for being gay.”

  “Then for what?” ventured Dale.

  “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t fit in and that was pretty goddamned crummy. But I learned to enjoy my solitude. I had passing friendships, but they weren’t deep. Just a bunch of misfits clinging to each other until we found a real group o call our own. Sometimes it takes a while to find where you belong. But once you do, you know it. You know?”

  Dale nodded. “Yep. And it’s never where you thought it would be, is it?”

  “I guess not.” Adrian turned to stare out the window. “Why don’t you stay the weekend, Dale? We’ve got my paper to work on.” He grinned at Dale. “Plus our date, and I’m expecting more than fucking McDonald’s.”

  Dale jumped down and walked up to Adrian. “If you thought last night was special, wait until you see what I’ve got planned for you.”

  “Sounds like a dare to me. When?”

  “How about tonight? Date and the show. Tomorrow we write the paper. But I’ll need a few hours this afternoon to prepare.”

  Adrian tilted his head and frowned. “What craziness are you up to?”

  Dale patted his arm. “I’m doing what I promised Pete I’d do: Look out for his good friend, The Hulk.”

  Chapter 12: Date Night

  For the second time that weekend, the progress he’d made in transforming his body astonished Adrian. Evidenced in another slimming outfit that looked tailored rather than off the big men’s rack, he flexed before the mirror with a huge smile. This was another gift from Dale, who’d taken the measurements from his other outfit and left alone, coming back to surprise him with the blazer and jeans and coordinated accessories.