by Holley Trent
The woman got between them. “This is so hot. I bet you two have really angry sex. I want to watch.”
“Oh, sweetheart, we don’t have sex at all,” Evan said.
“Ah. You should fix that. What better place to do it, huh? No one will ever tell. I won’t.” She giggled again, and when she grabbed Bart’s junk, he clamped his hand around her wrist.
“Don’t like women, honey?”
He sneered at Evan over the woman’s head. Evan had the temerity to grin. Evan cupped her breasts from behind and tweaked her turgid nipples.
If he’d been trying to get a rise out of Bart, he’d certainly succeeded, and admirably.
“I like women as much as any hot-blooded male, especially when they’re facedown and ass up.”
If their faces are against the sheets, they won’t talk so damned much. Wouldn’t tell him how much they liked it instead of just going along for the ride.
“I don’t see the problem, then, handsome. Let’s go back to my room. We can get a bottle of wine, put on some music…” She giggled. “Maybe I’ll let you blindfold me.”
He pried her fingers off his junk and backed away from them. “Enjoy your evening. Since you’ll be occupied, I presume you won’t be coming back to the room tonight?” he asked Evan, picking up his plate.
Food was probably cold now, but he didn’t care.
“What is your problem, man? We’re all here to have a good time, and all you want is dinner and good night’s sleep. Maybe you should get your testosterone levels checked when you get back to—wherever you’re from.”
“If we weren’t in public, I would fucking punch you.”
“And I’d punch you back, because you evidently need some sense knocked into you.”
“Ohhh-kay,” the woman said. She straightened her bodice and eased away from Evan. “I’m on the gold floor, room thirteen. Come on up if you’re feeling frisky. You two seem to have some history you need to work out first. I’ll wait.”
She gave them a little wave and walked toward a writhing trio on the dance floor.
When she was out of earshot, Bart said, “You want to punch me, Evan? Go ahead and try. You better make damn sure it knocks me out, too.”
“Or else, what? You’ll break my face?”
“Face. Fingers.” He shrugged. “I believe in being spontaneous.”
Evan gave him a shove. “That’s a really fucking asshole thing to say.”
Bart shoved back. “I’d rather play the asshole than the guy who’s playing games.”
People cleared away from them, giving them more space. Whether it was because they didn’t want to get caught in the fallout or because they wanted to get security, Bart didn’t know. Didn’t care.
“Games?” Evan asked. “Who’s playing games?” He shoved him again.
Bart shoved back. “You are. I never knew you were the kind of guy who’d fuck for favors.”
“If you think it’d work, let’s go upstairs now. I’ll let you slam your dick into my ass, and you won’t even have to kiss me. That’s what you want, right? Remember, I didn’t ask to get paired with you. Any man would have done.”
Bart got in his face and hissed, “You’re a fucking liar.”
Evan shook his head. “I haven’t told a single lie, Bart. Not one. Yeah, I’d let you fuck me if it would make you stay, but it wouldn’t, would it? You’ve got your mind set on leaving me, so go ahead.”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving baseball.”
“Same fucking thing, as far as I’m concerned. Maybe you don’t care what it would do to me, and that’s okay. I shouldn’t expect you to feel anything. You don’t have feelings, do you?” Evan’s voice took on a catch at the end that both angered and saddened Bart.
He wanted to grab Evan by the neck and shake him, and also wrap his arms around him and just hug all the idiocy out of him at the same time.
Bart closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Why don’t we keep personal business personal?” he said. “Let’s take this upstairs.”
“What difference does it make, Bart?”
Bart dropped his hand and opened his eyes. “Maybe no one can talk about who or what they saw here, but that doesn’t mean folks won’t snoop around about other parts of our lives once we leave. I don’t really care what folks think about me, but you have a reputation that you should care about. You want to talk it out? Let’s do it upstairs.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll follow you.”
Evan headed toward the far doors for the second time that night. Bart gave him a head start. He waited until Evan’s blond head had disappeared then he grabbed his beers and set off after him. He ignored the sideways looks and outright stares from folks he passed.
None of your business, folks. Mind yours.
Evan was pacing in front of the bed when Bart reached the room.
Bart stuffed the beer bottles into the ice bucket and emptied his pockets onto the dresser. Keycard. Wallet. Phone.
Might as well get comfortable.
Evan didn’t say anything. He just paced.
Bart settled onto the chair by the balcony doors and took off his shoes and dress socks. He always felt like he was sliding around in the damned things, compared to wearing cleats or boots.
He unfastened the top button of his shirt and took a deep breath, finally.
“Say somethin’, Bart.” Evan sat on the edge of the bed and wrung his hands.
Say something, he’d said. Bart chuckled. Oh, he could say so much, but finding the right thing to say seemed like mission impossible. Maybe he could start with the basics and just go from there. He put his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward.
“What do you want from me, Evan?”
“I told you.”
“You told me you didn’t want me to leave the Roosters. Yeah, I got that, but you should have known that was going to happen sooner or later. You should be prepared for that. It sure as shit doesn’t bother anyone else.”
“No one else plays like we do. It ain’t just that, Bart. You’re the only guy I know who tells it to me straight. I’m gonna miss that.”
“I’ll be just a phone call away.”
“You know that’s not the same.”
“And you thought sex would keep me on the hook?”
Evan shrugged. “It was just an idea. Maybe it was a bad one, but I meant what I said. I didn’t come here looking for you. I came here for me.”
“Why now?”
“Because—” He closed his mouth and stood. “I—listen. You’re right. Sometimes, I drink too much. Makes it easier for me to excuse my actions, I guess. A couple of months ago, I was at a party, and this guy came on to me. He took me into the master bedroom closet and sucked my cock. I didn’t remember it until the next day.”
“And?”
“And fuck, Bart, I don’t even remember the guy’s name or what he looked like. When I woke up, I didn’t think, shit, I can’t believe I did that. I woke up wondering if I liked it because I was drunk, or if I just liked it, period.”
“I would imagine that being drunk, one mouth on your cock feels pretty much like any other.”
Evan peeled off the mask he must have forgotten he was wearing and sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You liked it enough to see if it was for real.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure it was for real.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because when that girl was grinding on me downstairs, it wasn’t thoughts of fucking her that was making me hard. I got hard just thinking that maybe if I begged you to try a threesome again, you’d say yes, and I’d get to see you take your clothes off.”
“You’ve seen me take my clothes off hundreds of times, probably.”
“And I’ve appreciated every glimpse, but I didn’t allow myself to be attracted to you then.”
“You think you are now?”
“I—I know I am.” He threaded his fingers thr
ough his hair and gave it a brief tug. “Shit, Bart.”
“You’re confused.”
“No. No, I’m not confused.”
“Curious, then.”
There was nothing wrong with curiosity about other men. Hell, Bart had been at that stage once himself fifteen years ago.
“Yeah, curious.”
“Makes sense that you’re here, then.”
“But, you’re here, too.” He knelt in front of Bart with furrowed brow. “If you’re gonna go, anyway—if you’re not going to catch for me, why can’t we just see what happens? I trust you. I know you’re not gonna play with me.”
“I thought you liked getting played with.”
“Yeah, when it’s two ways. But, I’m not the experienced one with this. I figured—you could walk me through it.”
“Evan, it’s still insert tab A into slot B kind of stuff. I think you could figure it out just fine.”
“I want you to do it with me.”
“Why? There are probably dozens of men here who would love to put your through your paces. Men who’d probably even follow you from game to game and root for you, no matter how shitty your season is.”
Evan stood. “You don’t want me, do you? How come I didn’t figure that out?” He tugged his hair again.
Bart stood and grabbed his wrists. “Stop. I never said I didn’t want you. I’m trying not to get attached. I always get attached. And if I get attached, I won’t know if I’m spending another year squatting on creaking knees because I don’t want you away from me, or if it’s because I really want to play. You think I’d get hard if I didn’t want you?”
Evan seemed to be thinking about it.
“You think I haven’t given any thought to touching you?”
“You never said anything, Bart.”
“That’s because I don’t hit on straight men.” He let go of Evan’s hands and pointed to the bed. “Look. Think about whether or not you really want this. But for now, if you want me to rub out your back, I’ll do it.”
Evan’s fingers hovered over his pearl shirt button for a moment then he unfastened it and all the rest. He kicked off his shoes while pulling the shirt off and climbed onto the bed.
Bart leaned over him from the side and pressed the heels of his palms under Evan’s shoulder blade.
Evan groaned. “Don’t leave me black and blue, Bart.”
“I’ll always leave you black and blue. That ain’t changing.”
“I think I might change my mind about wanting to have sex with you.”
“Good, because I still haven’t said yes.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Evan’s toes curled alternately from pain and pleasure as Bart worked the tight knots out of his back. He hissed when the man dug deep. “Shit, Bart, you might have a second career ahead of you as a sadist.”
“Why would I do that professionally when I get enough of it in my free time?”
Evan’s closed eyes sprang open, and Bart chuckled.
“I’m just fucking with you. Not one of my kinks.”
“You have kinks?”
“We all have kinks. Some are just more vanilla than others.”
“What are yours?”
“Well, certainly not getting my dick sucked in closets.”
“Fuck you.”
“I know you’d like to, but the truth is, I don’t catch.”
“What’s that mean? Probably not the context I’m thinking.”
“You’re right, it’s probably not. I’m a catcher who doesn’t catch. I don’t take it in the ass.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I’m a bit too controlling. It’s harder to call the shots from the bottom.”
“You think it feels bad?”
“It’s not that. Feels fine if you’re with a man who knows what he’s doing. You can’t just shove it in there and thrust. Most guys don’t like to be told what to do while they’re fucking you.”
“Oh.” Evan probably wouldn’t care. He’d be one of those fumblers Bart was so annoyed with and could use the instruction.
“How’s your back?”
Evan rolled his shoulders. Everything felt as it should. “Feels good. Thanks.”
Bart grunted.
He heard the crunch of ice and turned his head to see Bart pulling a beer bottle from the bucket. He popped the cap with an opener on his keychain and took a long swallow.
He watched Bart’s Adam’s apple bob as the beer raced down his throat, and wondered what else he didn’t do. Would he give head if asked?
There were other ways to give people pleasure, though. Other places to touch and be touched. He rolled over and sat up. Time to change the subject.
“Bart?”
“Hmm?”
“What are your plans? If not baseball, then what would you do?”
Bart sat next to him with the remote and put his beer on the nightstand to the left. “Go into carpentry.”
“Of all things.”
“Nah. My old man is a carpenter. He does mostly floors, baseboards, moldings, stairs and railings—that kind of thing. I have an engineering degree. Got that on the high chance that the baseball thing didn’t work out. I figured I’d work with Pops for a while, and then open up my own shop. I’d build furniture, though. Quality stuff.”
“I didn’t know you worked with wood.”
“I do a little in the off-season. Pops lets me have a corner of his garage. I’ve got an entire storage unit with stuff I’ve built that’s just waiting to be stained or painted.”
“Where is it?”
“Near my parents’ place in Valdosta.”
Georgia. He was a Georgia boy.
“Hmm. Do they know that…you—” Hell. What a thing to ask. He didn’t even know why he cared.
“That I fuck men? Yeah, they know. Clint calls me a serial monogamist. I guess I am. It’s kinda hard not to take your lovers home when you’re with them for a year or more.”
“Do they care?”
“No. I think they were relieved I was fucking anyone at all. Apparently, I have a difficult personality.”
Evan laughed. “It’s not that bad.”
“It is bad, and you know it. Back when I was playing with Clint and the Strikes, the manager used to threaten to cut my playing time if I wasn’t nicer to the press.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Bet he didn’t cut you, either.”
“No, he didn’t. He also learned that I don’t respond well to threats.”
“And I’ve learned that bribes don’t work, either. What does work with you Bart, huh?”
Bart gave him a long look then switched the television on. “I do whatever’s best for me at any given time. I can rarely be incentivized to do otherwise.”
Evan guessed that the chance of him being on the Roosters’ roster come spring was getting smaller and smaller. Hell, if he had plans as solid as Bart’s, he’d probably give serious thought to quitting, too.
“I’ve got a useless degree,” Evan said, staring at the floor cleaner commercial currently on the screen.
“English?”
Evan laughed. “If only. Geology. Memorized a lot of shit about rocks, but it was the easiest curriculum you could pick if your ambitions were other than academic. I can’t even do anything with that unless I go back to school.”
“No offense, but I don’t see that happening.”
Evan rolled onto his side and gave Bart a nudge. “Hey, I can learn.”
“But you don’t want to learn to work with a new catcher.”
“That’s different. I can crack a book open and learn new shit. That doesn’t make me nervous. When you walk off the field and the relief catcher comes on, though—that—that fucks me up.”
“There’s probably therapy for that.”
Evan grunted. “You’re right. It is a wonder that you fuck anyone at all. Good thing you didn’t decide to be a doctor or something. Your bedside manner would be godd
amn appalling.”
“Yep. Take your pants off.”
“What?”
“Take off your pants. Don’t keep me waiting.”
“Why do you want me to take off my pants?
Bart nudged the television volume lower, set down the remote, and crossed his arms. “You can do it, or I can do it for you. If I do it for you, there will be no guarantees of the condition they’re in when I’m done. They look expensive. I assume you want to keep them. I’ll tell you one more time. Take off your pants. If you’re wearing underwear, take those off, too. Lay on your belly so I can see your tight ass.”
He wants to look at me?
Bewildered, Evan unfastened his pants. “Okay. As long as you don’t try to put anything into it without warning me first. Not ready for that.”
“I will if I want to. I may. I may not. Depends on how much you turn me on. You feeling pretty?”
“Not at all.” Evan pushed his pants and briefs down past his knees. His already-hard cock sprang up to his belly as he kicked his pants over the edge of the bed.
“You trust me? You gonna do as I say?”
“Yeah.” Of course he would. He always did for Bart. Well, everything except letting him get a good night’s sleep.
Bart made a circular gesture with his fingers, and Evan rolled onto his belly.
“And you should feel pretty,” Bart said. “You’ve got the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen.”
Evan’s cock twitched beneath him, and he itched to grab it. Instead, he crumpled the bedspread in his fists.
Evan looked over to find Bart still staring at the television, but his fingers worked slowly yet surely down his black shirt, loosening all of the buttons.
Evan wanted to get up and kiss his chest, pull his nipples between his teeth, but he didn’t think Bart would appreciate it without being asked. And Evan sure as shit didn’t want to ask, because he didn’t want to be told no.
“I always wanted to ask you,” Bart said. “You shave?”
“Yeah. Ladies seem to like it.”
“I bet they do. No one really likes choking on hair. That’s pretty conscientious of you.”
“Nah, not really. Anything that increases the likelihood that I’ll get head benefits me more than anyone else. Keeping up with it is a pain in the ass, though. I might let it grow out.”
