Clutch Endgame

by Tarrah Anders

  “A cast? That’s all he will need?” I ask for confirmation.

  The doctor turns around, grabs something out of the fridge in the far corner of the room, he returns with an ice pack, and places it around Gunnar’s elbow carefully.

  “We need the swelling to go down before we can cast you, so I want to put you in a splint first,” he says.

  Gunnar does not say anything, but Bently clears his throat, I look up at him and notice that his face is green and he’s sweating, a lot. “Is he done playing ball, Doc?” He asks.

  “Not at all. As long as you take it easy, follow directions and go to PT - you should be fine. I would recommend that once you’re ready to play, that you ease yourself into it, don’t go balls to the walls. Listen to the team doctor in Arizona and don’t skip out on appointments or check-ups. You’re lucky that this happened at this point of the season. What’s unlucky is that Chainsaw here is going to have to do all the heavy lifting for your move.”

  “That’s okay; she’s more of a man than he is sometimes.” Bently jokes, squeezing Gunnar’s shoulder and coughs.

  “And that’s okay, Bently was going to do all the work anyways.” I retort with a wink at the guys.

  “You can return to the dugout, but you’re done for the rest of the night, I’m sorry Gunnar that you didn’t get more playing time before this happened, but I’m glad that this injury isn’t worse.” The doctor pats Gunnar’s shoulder sympathetically.

  “Thanks Doc.”

  “He give you any painkillers?” Bently asks as soon as the door shuts.

  “Nah, I’ve got some aspirin or something. It hurts, but it’s not too intolerable. I feel like shit. Probably exactly how you look. But my arm is kinda numb and feels tight.”

  “There’s probably a lot of adrenaline still pumping through you, plus the ice on your elbow, I’m sure is numbing some of the pain as well.” I say. ‘Fuck Gun, I was so worried.”

  “I’m just going let you guys be, I need to... um… throw up again.” Bently says walking towards the door.

  “You done for the night too?” Gunnar asks him.

  “Yeah, Skipper took me out, figured that my head wouldn’t be clear, plus I threw up on his cleats.” Bently nodded, one hand on the door. “I’ll see you up there, yeah?”

  “I’ll be there.” Gunnar says with bravado.

  GUNNAR SPENT the rest of the game in the dugout with his teammates, I watched him as if he would disappear if I took my eyes off him. The Hornets played a good game; they even went into extra innings. But at the bottom of the eleventh, the Seals first basemen hit a moonshot and we lost the game.

  Gunnar sent me a text and told me that he would be getting a cast after the game and to expect him home later, so I went back to the condo and finally felt like I could breathe. I ran myself a hot bath and put a facemask on while I let my shoulders relax and just turned off my mind.

  Sometime later, Gunnar walks into our home. He walks slowly as he holds his shoulder and comes to sit beside me on the couch. He winces as he positions himself to get comfortable and then leans his head back.

  “Today sucked.” He declares.

  “But the good part is that the Doc is right. It’s a good thing that this happened now, versus earlier in the season.”

  “I know.” He says with exhaustion in his tone.

  “And, the cherry on all this is that you can still play. Your off-season will just be not as adventurous.” I put my hand on his knee and lightly squeezed.

  “We lost tonight.” Gunnar says after a moment of silence. “The Hornets don’t advance to the next set of games.”

  “Sorry babe.”

  “That means my time with the Hornets is done and the next stop is Arizona, and our new chapter.” He rolls his head to look at me, with a smile on his face; he grabs my hand with his left hand.

  “Luckily, we really are only packing our clothes and some kitchen things.”

  “Clothes, kitchen things and sex toys,” he smirks.

  TWENTY-TWO

  GUNNAR

  I’VE DECIDED that a broken anything is torture.

  Showering, cooking, eating, sleeping, fucking, personal hygiene, driving - all those things with a cast on is difficult. I took all the simple things in my life for granted that I wasn’t aware of how difficult switching hands are can be.

  Case in point, I’m brushing my teeth right now and my coordination with my left hand and my mouth are not in sync with one another and it’s pissing me off. I have toothpaste up my nose and all around my mouth to where it looks like I’m frothing and ready to bite you to infect you with rabies.

  I have a video conference with the management of the Gila Monsters today; it’s my third one since busting up my elbow in that tiebreaker game last week. They have no doubt that I will be ready for the next season, but they’re very involved with my recovery and everything that it entails. I feel like they want to know every time that I take a shit or touch my dick too - but thankfully, they have yet to ask those questions.

  Later, I’m sitting at the kitchen island with my smoothie and an English muffin when my computer dings with an incoming call. I wipe the crumbs off my mouth and press the enter button to answer.

  Three faces are on the screen, two are smiling; the other has his hands folded and looks like there’s a stick up his ass. He looks uninterested as if someone woke him up from his nap, that person likely being me since he’s looking at me.

  “Gunnar! How are you? How’s the arm?” The owner, Lance Fabiati asks.

  “Good sir. The arm is good. I’m right on schedule for about 6 weeks with a cast and then a few months for steady PT, so no change since we last spoke, sir.” I respond politely.

  “Mr. Reynolds, we have received all the reports and X-rays from the Hornets and you sure as fuck were lucky that it’s a clean fracture.” The other smiling man, the team doctor said.

  “Yes sir, I got lucky there.” I nod.

  The conversation goes back and forth with questions and answers, updates and confirmations. Eventually the uninterested man leans forward.

  “Gunnar. Your philandering ways are behind you, yes?” He asks, his tone void of emotion, his eyes showing disdain for my past.

  “Yes sir. I’ve been in a relationship with the same woman for almost five years now, we recently got engaged.” I smile.

  “And we were informed that she will be a part of the organization?” He asks.

  “Yes sir, in the media department.”

  “Lance, this sounds like a conflict of interest. She will write solely about her boyfriend here.” He holds his hand out towards me talking to the owner, beside him.

  “Fiancée.” I chime in.

  “She’s vetted and not part of this conversation at hand Dean, get over it.” Lance says quietly, covering it with a cough. He turns his attention back to me.

  “We’re awaiting your arrival here in Arizona, I know the season isn’t to start for a while, but do you have an ETA as to when your move will occur?”

  “In other words, will you be completing your physical therapy in San Diego or here in Arizona?” The surfaced man, Dean asks.

  “We anticipate that we will be moving within the next few weeks. We put the move off a few days due to my injury. I have one final appointment here in San Diego and then I’ve got follow up appointments with a few PT’s that were referred by the team trainers, and anticipate that I will have my appointments lined up before we move.” I reply.

  “We’re following up on some endorsement deals that are gunning for you, no pun intended. We don’t want you to overwork yourself in physical training; you need to rest your body, your mind and soul. So we’ll keep it light, but we’ll definitely have some things ready for when you and Sawyer arrive here.” Lance states.

  “Thank you sir.” I nod my head in appreciation.

  “That will be all for today. Thank you for chatting with us Gunnar.” Lance says tapping the desk in front of him and shutting off the screen befor
e I could say another word.

  I sit back in my chair and take another bite out of the muffin.

  “Hey! I was thinking that Arizona is hot as fuck - why don’t we leave our winter clothes here?” Sawyer asks walking into the kitchen and digging in the fridge. She twists off the cap of the Gatorade and takes a quick sip.

  “Arizona gets cold in the winter; you can ice skate on the sidewalks.” I return.

  “But it’s the desert,” she points out as if that’s the answer for everything ‘Arizona’.

  “And the desert gets cold.” I point out.

  “I feel weird about not leaving clothes here,” she says.

  “Then leave clothes here, it’s simple. We have the money babe, if you need new clothes in Arizona, we will get new clothes in Arizona. Hell, you can leave all your Hornets gear here, since we’ll need to get you outfitted for the Gila Monsters gear.”

  “Can we petition to have the team change their name?”

  I laugh. “To what?”

  “I don’t know something less scary, something fast like a road runner or something.”

  “You watch too many cartoons.” I reply.

  “I read up on Gila monsters, while they are venomous, they are also super slow. You guys are baseball players; you have to run those bases as if you’re chasing a fast moving cupcake.” She says as she holds up the Hostess cupcake that she picks up from the kitchen counter beside her.

  “A fast moving cupcake, how do cupcakes move?” I ask holding in my laughter.

  She moves the cupcake back and forth, up and down and darts it in haphazard directions. “Like this.”

  “So, in other words,” I clear my throat, “we run the bases like we’re chasing someone holding a cupcake?”

  “If you want to get crazy into detail, yes.” She nods as if this is any normal conversation.

  “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

  “You haven’t today, so you can lay it on thick now. How much do you love me?” She sticks her chin out waiting for an answer.

  “I love you like a baseball player runs the bases chasing after a fucking cupcake.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  SAWYER

  IT’S MOVING DAY.

  Although, it’s not a normal moving day. Yes, we are moving to another city and state, we are only bringing clothes and some personal items with us. We shipped my car, with a bunch of stuff packed in it, and we’re driving Gunnar’s Jeep with a few suitcases. Other than that, all of our furniture will stay in our San Diego residence and the interior designer that I’ve been working with for the past month has promised that our new home will be ready for our arrival tomorrow.

  We decided to stay in a hotel as soon as we got into Phoenix tonight, and to meet with Julia, our relator tomorrow for breakfast before we officially move into our new home, the home that we got together. Our interior designer left our keys with Julia, so it was also when we would officially get those.

  We arrived in at the Andaz Hotel in Scottsdale and checked into our bungalow. We went downstairs to the restaurant, which was a giant glass encased living room style dining area, on the outdoor patio was seating surrounding fire pits as well as standard tables. There were people sitting here and there, so we chose to sit outside, since the temperature was warm and welcoming.

  I ordered seared scallops, grilled asparagus for dinner, and melted into my seat with each delicious bite as Gunnar ordered a rib-eye steak and fumbled around with trying to cut his meat. After a few minutes of silent laughter, I took his plate and cut his steak into bite-sized pieces for him.

  “I’m just keeping you on your feet,” Gunnar jokes as I pass his plate back in front of him.

  “Very funny, just remember you are experiencing challenges with certain simple things in life. If you didn’t have me cutting up your meat what would you do?” I ask.

  “I would eat it like a caveman. I’d pick it up with the fork and just take a bite out of it.” He grabs his fork and stabs one of the bite-sized pieces that I cut up and holds it out to me. “Imagine that this is a huge chunk of meat instead of this tiny little piece. I’m a giant, eating a full size piece of steak.” He enacts in slow motion taking an exaggerated bite out of his meat, yet eating the entire piece in one bite.

  “How though, prey tell - is that keeping me on my feet?” I ask.

  “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure. I was going to say something along the lines of getting you ready to cut our children’s meat, but that would have sounded pretty bad with the thoughts that I’ve been having about you all day.”

  “You know, parents have dirty thoughts too.” I tell him.

  “Not the kind that I was having at that moment.” He looks at me and wiggles his eyebrows.

  “Do I even want to know?” I ask him.

  “How about I show you later?” He winks as he takes another exaggerated bite out of his steak.

  AS SOON AS we get back to our room and the door is shut, with one hand Gunnar pushes me against the wall, glides his hand down the length of my torso and leans into me.

  “How about I show you what I was thinking earlier?” He says as he peppers my shoulder with soft kisses.

  “I can go for that,” I say in an exhale leaning my head back against the wall.

  His lips make their way up my neck and meet with my own while he turns our bodies and we move together towards the large king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

  My hands roam along his muscular back, grasping at the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. We get the shirt caught awkwardly on his cast, but keep the momentum up, in a moment, he’s shirtless, and I’m working on his pants.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa… I’m running the show tonight,” he says as he bats my hand away with his good hand.

  I remove my hands. “Do what you wish.”

  “I’m going to instruct you on what to do, are you okay with relinquishing control and submitting to my demands?” He asks backing up.

  “As long as this isn’t going to result in a butt plug in my ass, slapping a saddle on me and riding me around like a trick pony, I think this can be managed.”

  “Can you be serious?” He asks, his voice dipping low in baritone.

  “I can.” I nod my head.

  “Good. Now, remove your shirt. Slowly.” I do as he requests as he sits down. “Take off your sandals; drop them from the tips of your fingers. Now remove your pants, and I want your fingers to dip into the waistband your panties, and slowly pull them down.”

  I follow his instructions to the T and wait for him to continue but instead he stands up and removes his own pants and boxers. His hard cock curves up towards his stomach as his hand strokes from the base to the tip with a lick of his lips and his eyes watching my reactions.

  “I want your fingers to dip into your pussy, tease yourself and get that pussy ready for me. I want you to work yourself up for me.” He directs.

  Goose bumps rise across my skin as the thrill of his directions excites me.

  I do as he requests, sliding my fingers into my heat, in and out with deliberate drags and watch while his eyes light with fire and he licks his lips. He sits back for a moment while stroking his cock, and then he releases himself and stalks towards me. He grabs my wrist, pulls my hand away from my body and brings my fingers to his mouth. his tongue lashing out and licking my juices off my fingers.

  “My favorite taste is you,” he whispers with his eyes burning into mine.

  He turns me around and moves me to lay on the bed, and hovers over me. He moves his hips against mine as his cock brushes against my center and then breaches my entrance. He starts to fill me, and then pulls out.

  “I can’t balance on one arm, I want you to ride me, and ride me hard,” he moves to the bed and pulls me astride him. I line him up and impale myself on him. I slide up and down him as his hips push up to thrust into me. My hands are on his chest as I use him to balance myself before I begin to move. His good hand grips my hip as he directs my sp
eed as much as he can. With the push and the pull of our bodies, we move together as we both continue to pant and claw at each other.

  Underneath me, he circles his hips and pushes up, I move up and down with perfect control, even though all I want to do is move faster. Gunnar’s hand lightly slaps my ass as I pick up my speed using my knees to steady me. My hair falls in front of my face; my eyes want to roll back in my head and my mouth drops open.

  Our moans echo through the room as we work together to find our release as the pad of his thumb caresses my clit. I lean down and slant my mouth over his, our kiss burying the moans. I sit up, feeling the start of my orgasm and increase the speed of my hips crashing down on him.

  When I begin to spiral over the edge, Gunnar’s caressing disappears, and his hand grasps my hip again. His back bows off the bed as I push my head back and release a loud moan with my orgasm just as Gunnar’s hips push up to press me closer to him, to be fully seated as he expels into me.

  “I’m coming!” He exclaims. I feel his cock pulsing as my inner walls contract, pulling his orgasm out of him while I ride out the wave of pleasure rocketing through my body. Our bodies are flushed with adrenaline as I languidly continue to move my hips against him as his body shudders in his final release. I lean down, and kiss up his neck, across his cheek and to his lips. Slowly, my tongue dips into his mouth and I pull away back to the sitting position on top of him in the aftershocks of our combined orgasms.

  We’re catching our breath, looking at one another both with a look of happiness, content and desire.

  “Why would you think I would be into pony play?” He asks breaking the moment.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  GUNNAR

  SAWYER and I walk into our new home with the look of awe. I don’t recall having this sort of reaction when I purchased the condo in San Diego. Of course, at that point in time, I was a bachelor and a rookie in baseball. It’s almost as if I’ve never seen the house before, and in a way, it is. It looks so different from how it was originally staged.