by Roz Lee
Fucked up asshole. Deal with it, buddy.
After his third strike out in as many at bats, Randolph threw his helmet across the dugout, earning himself a reprimand from the manager and a possible fine from the organization. Sean smirked at the first thing he’d found humor in all day.
The left fielder chose then to look at Sean. A murderous look crossed his face before he turned and apologized to Doyle. He retrieved his helmet from where it had come to rest at the base of the stairs leading to the clubhouse then moved to the end of the dugout, as far away from Sean as he could get.
Fuck you, Bentley. Oh yeah, I already did, didn’t I?
* * *
After his game sitting on the bench, the team traveled to Seattle for a four game series. The longest road trip of the season, from there they were headed to Minnesota for three days. Sean was back on the field playing every game. Most of his teammates had forgiven him for the incident on the bus, not because they’d forgotten, but because he’d been playing like a maniac ever since his return to the lineup.
His hip hurt like hell, but the extra hustle he exhibited on the field meant more time with the trainers and less time to think about Bentley. Which suited him just fine. Part of being a Major League player was being gracious whether you won or lost, but translating it into his personal life wasn’t as easy. There was always another baseball game to win or lose, but he believed people were given just one chance at true love. In his one at bat in the game of love, he’d struck out, big time.
Being on the same team with his greatest failure, knowing he’d made his play and lost, was killing him.
Baseball was all he had left, but it, too, was in danger of telling him to shove off. If he planned to keep his position with the Mustangs, he would have to show management he was better than any of the young talent lined up to take his place.
Two days into the Seattle trip, on trainers’ orders, he moved to a third floor room in the hotel—one he could climb the stairs to in order to strengthen his hip muscles. Waving goodbye to a group of his teammates heading to the elevator, he entered the stairwell off the lobby. At last, he’d gotten a private hotel room, but the price was no elevator to get to it. As he approached the second floor landing, he weighed the situation in his mind, deciding it was a fair trade. Besides, he just had to make the climb a couple of times a day, max.
Lost in his thoughts, he barely registered the door opening and closing on the floor above him. Seeing the man waiting for him on the third floor landing, he stopped short.
Bent Randolph stared down at him. His hair appeared to have been combed with a rake, and his cheeks were flushed. His hands were fisted at his sides.
Shit. Just what I need, another fight.
“Look, man, I’m beat. Whatever you have to say, can it wait?”
Bentley fidgeted, clearly undecided about what he’d come there to do. Damn, the color in his cheeks reminded Sean of the way he looked when he came. The memory pissed him off. He didn’t want to be reminded of the man’s passion or how much he longed to put that expression on his face every fucking day.
Sean took the last few steps to the landing. Stopping when they were on the same level, he sighed. “Spit it out, Randolph. I haven’t got all day.”
Before he could escape, his back hit the wall hard, forcing the air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he hesitated. Instinct said to defend himself, but his attacker was Bentley. He didn’t want to hurt the bastard, just beat the shit out of him, make him feel the same level of pain he felt every goddamn day.
“Shut the hell up, Flannery.”
The man’s rock-hard body pinned him to the wall from chest to hips. Through their thin dress slacks, he felt a thick cock pressing into his belly.
“Just shut the fuck up.”
Large hands closed around his face. Rosy lips came closer, crushing his own, moving, demanding, taking. Hips ground hard against Sean’s, startling another groan from him. Taking advantage, Bent plunged his tongue past Sean’s lips.
Desire ignited like a flash-fire, searing good sense to ashes. His cock surged to attention. He held Bent’s hips steady so he could do some grinding of his own.
The kiss was punishing—just what he would have expected from the man pinning him to the wall if he’d allowed himself to imagine such a thing ever occurring. His rational self had prevented any such musings, so now he had to wonder, why, as he returned the kiss with equal fervor.
Lost in the feel of the masculine mouth covering his, he froze when hands found his belt buckle, working it free.
“Not a goddamn fucking word from you,” he said, his eyes blazing with intent.
Sean’s heart leapt to his throat. He couldn’t respond even if he’d wanted to.
Holding his lover’s gaze, he let him work the fasteners loose on his trousers. When his hand closed over his erection, he groaned, arching into his touch, all the while refusing to look away from the man’s gaze. Eye jousting. Both refusing to be the first to cave while Bent felt him up like a high school kid in the bathroom—fumbling fingers and damp palm. No hand job had ever felt as good. Sean let him know by grinding into his embrace.
“Over there.” Breaking eye contact, the left fielder pointed to the metal railing where the stairs leading up a floor turned then headed down again.
Bent grabbed the lapels on Sean’s suit coat. He yanked him forward, turned him, shoving his shoulder from behind. “Bend over. If you fuckin’ move, I’ll shove you down the stairs, so hold on tight.”
The metal was cold under his hands, but he held on, sliding his left hand down the descending banister and his right up the ascending one while the horizontal bar pressed into his stomach. His belt buckle clanged like a ship’s bell when it hit the two lower cross members on its way to his knees.
For a split second, he panicked over the thought of someone entering the stairwell, seeing them, then he couldn’t think about anything but Bent’s dick shoving dry past the tight barrier muscles of his ass. Bareback. No condom. If it had been anyone but Bentley, he would be worried, but Bent was squeaky clean. Hell, this was probably the fucker’s first time without a raincoat.
His asshole burned like hellfire, but he didn’t care. Bent was fucking him. Nothing else mattered. What did it mean?
“Fuck, I hate you,” Bent hissed. “I. Hate. Every. Fucking. Thing. About. You.” Each word was punctuated with a stinging retreat followed by a thrust hard enough to send shockwaves of pleasure all the way to Sean’s toes.
“I. Can’t. Get. You. Out. Of. My. Fucking. Mind.”
That makes two of us.
Sean gripped the metal tighter, rocking into the thrusts. His dick slapped against the cross rail with each movement, but he welcomed the pain because Bent was fucking him—at last.
“Don’t. Want. To. Want. You.”
But you do. You fucking do.
“I. Hate. You.”
I love you, Bentley. I love you so goddamn much.
“Feels. Fucking. Good.”
Shit, yeah.
“Oh, shit!”
Sean hung his head, recognizing the signs of his lover’s impending release. Clenching his jaw, he screwed his eyes shut and held still while Bentley rode out his orgasm. Hot cum flooded his ass, proof of a desire the man fucking him hated with ever fiber of his being. Sean catalogued every spurt, every spasm, committed the feeling to memory to be treasured the rest of his life.
His lover stilled, his dick buried to the hilt in Sean’s ass. The cold stairwell was silent except for the wrenching sobs coming from the man whose cock was buried up his ass.
“Let me up, man. Let’s talk about why you just fucked me.”
They remained frozen for the space of two heartbeats then, his softened cock slipping free, the left fielder stumbled away. Sean reached for his trousers and briefs, righting his clothes before turning around.
Bentley leaned against the wall next to the door marked with a big red number three. His head was thrown back, tears for
ming rivers down his cheeks, the heels of his hands pressed into his eye sockets. His dick hung limp from his open zipper.
“Ahh, shit, man.” Sean tucked the other man’s cock back in his pants then zipped him up. “Pull yourself together, okay? My room is a couple of doors down. You want to go there so we can talk?”
He nodded, wiped at his eyes with his palms, and choked back another sob. “Yeah. We should talk, I guess.”
Sean held the door for his teammate then followed him inside the room. Randolph crossed to the window, collapsing into the room’s solitary chair. He turned his face to the darkened glass. Getting him to talk wasn’t going to be easy. Opening the mini-bar, Sean selected two beers roughly the price of a small condominium and held out one to the man sulking in the corner.
“Beer?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He roused enough to take the cold bottle, but did so without making eye contact. Okay. At least he wasn’t crying like a baby anymore, and they were in the same room without punching or fucking. It was a start.
Sean stretched out on the bed, his shoulders propped against the headboard, waiting. He’d almost finished his beer by the time his companion spoke.
“I don’t want to feel this way about you.”
“I know you don’t, but you’ve tried to make it go away for over five years. How’s it working out for you?”
“Not so good, obviously.”
Another step in the right direction, but Sean didn’t dare hope for more. He finished off his brew, placing the empty container on the nightstand, waiting.
“I love Ashley. I want to marry her. I do. I want kids with her. What I feel for her is real. This thing with you….” He shook his head.
“Is real, too, Bent. You came to me today. I didn’t encourage you in any way.”
“You encourage me just by being alive.” The man’s heartfelt confession rang with the defeated tone of a soldier surrendering the battle.
“I know the feeling,” he said. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. You’d just come up from the Minor’s, all fresh-faced and eager to make your mark on the sport. I used to fantasize about taking you in the dugout after a game—you know, when the lights are still on, but the place is empty.”
Bentley nodded. “I would have killed you if you’d tried.”
“I know. Why do you think I never said anything? You weren’t ready. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you ever would be. Then you walked into the shower, and I saw it in your eyes. You wanted me. I took a chance, stroking my dick the way I did, but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Dropping a bar of soap for you to pick up wasn’t an option.”
His companion’s laugh was harsh, but it was another step in the right direction. “As I recall they had liquid soap dispensers.”
“They did.” Sean nodded, remembering. “I wanted you so damn bad. For a few minutes I knew you wanted me, too. The next thing I knew, you were on a plane to Dallas. I thought I was going to die. I missed you so damned bad, Bentley. For five years, I’ve wanted to strangle you for leaving.”
“And I’ve wanted to strangle you for making me feel that way. If you’d asked me to bend over, I might have done it, but I would have killed you when it was over. I wasn’t ready to handle it.”
“Are you ready now?”
“No. I’m not ready, but I don’t think I have any choice.”
“You always have a choice, Bent.”
“You think?” He shook his head. “I don’t. I love Ashley. I won’t leave her for you, but I can’t be with you and not tell her. But if I tell her, she’ll leave me.”
“You aren’t kidding, are you? You really love her?”
“I do, and God help me, I love fucking her.”
“What about what we did?”
“I liked fucking with you, too. I’m sorry about the things I said in the restaurant the other day. I was out of line. I think I knew, deep down, if I pushed you hard enough you might do something like you did—force the issue between us. It wasn’t rape or anything. I could have stopped you. We might have ended up in jail for busting up a hotel room, but I could have stopped you.”
“You could have. I like to think I would have stopped, but damn it, Bent, after all these years of wanting you, I had to have you. I had to make you see.”
“I saw. Too much. I saw you. I saw myself. I saw your courage and my cowardice.”
“You planned tonight. You didn’t just happen to be in the third floor stairwell at the same time I was.”
“I heard the trainer tell you to take the stairs. I was the only player in my elevator, so I got off on the third floor then crossed over to the stairs. I thought once I did it, you would be out of my system and I could go back to being me.”
“Did your plan work?”
“Goddamn it, Sean. You know it didn’t.”
Sean adjusted his legs to ease his aching package.
“You didn’t come,” Bent said.
“No. I couldn’t.”
“I can help you, if you want.”
Sean had to strain to hear the softly spoken offer. “What do you have in mind?”
“Can I…you know…suck you?”
Hell, yes! “Is it something you want to do?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve wanted to ever since the shower.” He closed his eyes. Sean waited for him to gather his thoughts. “I was torn between wanting to fuck you and wanting to suck you. I was so damned scared. Scared of my feelings. Scared shitless when you turned around. I saw your huge dick, and I knew you were thinking the same things I was. I was scared out of my mind someone would see us.”
“What if there hadn’t been any possibility of someone seeing?” Sean asked.
“I would have let you do anything you wanted to me and begged you to let me do the same.”
“There’s no one here now. Just us.” Sean reached for his belt buckle. “Take your clothes off. All of them.”
Bent stilled. Sean could almost see the wheels turning in his lover’s head before he stood and removed his suit jacket.
“You, too. No clothes. If I’m going to suck your dick, I want to see all of you, just like in the shower.”
Sean stood. Together they disrobed until they both stood naked, nothing but the expanse of the king-sized bed between them. Bentley Randolph, gloriously naked, willingly so, almost brought him to his knees. His fair skin was tanned except for a band of lily-white skin below his navel to the top of his thighs. Smooth-chested, his physique was one of an athlete in top physical condition. He’d trimmed his sandy pubic hair to a neat puff surrounding the base of his cock. Sean sort of remembered the manscaping from the other night. He’d been too out of his head to commit details to memory.
Bent’s cock, soft when he’d first undressed, rose under Sean’s gaze. Like the rest of him, it was fair, pink with a head shading more toward purple the larger it became.
“Nice grooming,” he said.
“Ashley likes to do it. As long as she doesn’t cut off anything important, I let her.”
Bent’s face flushed at the mention of the intimate details of his relationship with his fiancée. It was time to change the subject. There was room for just one other person in his bed. “Where do you want me?”
Bentley inwardly cursed. Why had he brought up Ashley at a time like this? Thankfully, Sean hadn’t seemed disturbed by the slip. But even with Sean standing naked, his enormous cock demanding attention, Bent felt as if his fiancée was there with him. She was a part of him. He couldn’t just wipe her out of his mind or his heart, but if there was ever a place and time when he should, this was it. He was about to suck another man’s cock.
Ashley would hate him if she knew.
“On the bed,” he said, sweeping his arm to indicate the giant piece of furniture in the center of the room.
Don’t hate me, Ashley. Please don’t hate me. I hate myself enough for what I’m going to do, but I want to suck his cock so damn bad. I have to do it.
&n
bsp; Sean’s body was the epitome of strength and good health. Tight, bronzed skin defined every muscle in his torso. Even the skin below his belt was dusky, indicating it was his natural coloring. His dark cock bobbed as he bent to turn the covers back then adjusted the pillows. Bent caught a glimpse of his firm ass before he lay down on the white sheets.
His feet seemed glued to the floor. Blood rushed past his ears to pool in his groin. Licking his dry lips, he stared at Sean’s hand shifting his balls to rest on top of his thighs.
“Just lay with me a while.” Sean patted the expanse of white cotton beside him.
“I…I can do that.” He forced one foot off the floor, placing his knee on the edge of the mattress. He moved like molasses to lie stiff as a board on his back beside Sean. They weren’t even touching, but he could feel the heat radiating off Sean’s body, could smell him. He hadn’t been this nervous when he’d gone down on his first girlfriend in the back seat of his car following Junior Prom.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said.
“You’ve been around naked men almost every day of your Major League career,” Sean reasoned.
“This is different. I’ve never been in bed with any of them.”
“I know. Why don’t you start by touching me? Anywhere. We’ve sort of skipped the getting to know each other phase.”
Closing his eyes, Bent blew out a breath, willing himself to relax. “I guess we have.” He rolled to his side, propping up on one elbow. His free hand hovered over Sean’s chest.
“I won’t break, Bent. Touch me.”
He lowered his palm to the center of the other man’s chest as if expecting a bomb to detonate on contact. Sean hissed in a sharp breath, but otherwise remained still.
