15. Xander
FIFTEEN
Xander
I was standing out in the blazing sun on a neighborhood baseball diamond in Roxbury surrounded by seven kids in cute little baseball shirts, pants, hats, and cleats.
All provided by the Rebels. My team was the Scrappers and had a logo of a bulldog wearing a tricorne hat while holding a baseball bat in his jowls.
I’d given them and their parents a short speech and had set up the tee at home base.
We had a half hour of practice before the next team had the diamond.
“Okay, so I want each of you to take a turn hitting the ball off the tee,” I said.
They all nodded aside from Penelope, who was drawing in the dirt.
She was the youngest on the team at age four.
We had four boys and three girls ranging from six down to Penelope.
All were inner city youth and eager to play.
Well, maybe Penelope not so much, but she’d get into it. “Cory, you go first.”
I stood back after placing the ball on the plastic stand.
The ball was smaller than a standard baseball and lighter.
There was no pitching in tee-ball. The kids hit the ball off the stand.
We’d teach them the basics of the game, but it was just a fun way to spend some time.
Or that was how I’d come into it. A few of the parents seemed to think their kids were trying out for the Red Sox or something.
Cory took a swing and missed. Then cried.
Wow. Okay, that was unexpected. His mother and I talked to him and calmed him down by assuring him he had more than one swing.
Once his tears were dry, he tried again.
And again. Fourth time was the charm though, and he hit it off the stand with a pop.
We all clapped. Cory ran to third base. This team would need work, but we had all summer.
I smiled down at Cory’s mom, Anita, and asked her on the spot if she’d like to be the team mom.
She readily accepted so she’d be in charge of all the paperwork, signing up other volunteers, turning in the financial forms, and answering questions.
See, I’d done my homework since returning to Boston.
I hadn’t had much else to do other than read up on tee-ball rules and regs and play golf.
Mason was so wrapped up in getting his agency set up that I rarely saw him, and when we did get together, he was exhausted.
Not exactly the romantic relationship we’d had in Aruba, but then again, that had been a vacation.
Real life was seldom as it was on a getaway.
The kids all got a turn at the tee, and I now had a pretty good idea of who could hit and who would need some work. I sent them out to catch some balls that I planned to hit to them.
A tall man with a thick beard sauntered up to me.
He was Penelope’s older brother, Aaron. The age difference between the siblings was striking, but I said nothing because who was I to comment?
I’d been shocked to see that the adults who’d shown up with their kids expecting Marquis had accepted me so readily. It was a pleasant surprise.
“Can I ask you a question?” Aaron enquired as I tapped the ball off the tee and waited for a kid—any kid—to make a move to try to catch it. Yeah, we needed work.
“Sure,” I replied, waving at Derrick, one of the six-year-olds, to come in from left field to grab the ball sitting next to second base. He didn’t see me flagging him down as he and Monica, a five-year-old, were too busy throwing grass at each other.
“So you’re the Xander Holden that just came out, yeah?”
My smile faded instantly. “That’s right.” I braced myself for the homophobic rant to begin.
“I thought so.” He folded his arms over his yellow tank top.
“My friend said the Rebels are going to make you captain. Said that Brady Rowe is dead weight, too old, and too lame to stay on the team. You think a gay dude can be captain? I mean, no offense, but who’s going to listen to a powder puff? ”
Wow. I just… wow. “You can tell your friend that Brady Rowe is far from being dead weight, too old, or too lame. The man is a beast and could clean your clock and mine with ease. Also, no offense, but I’m bi, and I can command respect the same as a straight man.
The point is moot because Brady is going nowhere. He plans to retire a Rebel.”
He took a step back, hands up. I hadn’t realized I’d sounded that snarky but good on me if I had.
Fucking powder puff my ass. If I wanted, I could beat this shitter into paste with one arm tied behind my back.
Not that I’d ever take a swing at anyone not on skates and asking for it, but I could show him exactly how puffy I was.
“Okay, dude, chill out. I was just asking.” He sauntered back to the stands and sat down beside some guy in a Rebels ballcap.
Anita walked up to me with a bottle of cold water. “Ignore them,” she whispered.
“Thanks.” I took the bottle then smiled at the pudgy Black woman. “I’m afraid I got a little snappy with him.”
“Serves him right for asking such an asinine question. It’d have been fun to see you knock him on his ass like you did Morton Cloy in that game against Detroit.”
I snickered as I twisted the cap off my water. “You saw that game?”
“Hell yeah. I never miss a Rebels game.”
She rambled on about that fight, filling me in on team stats that I didn’t even know.
Then she whistled the kids in, gave them cookies and fruit punch boxes, and herded them all off the diamond to a waiting city van that would take them either to their homes or a daycare.
I waved at them as they boarded the van.
Each child was covered in dust and wore grass stains on their knees even though not a lick of baseball had been played.
I jogged around picking up balls and the tee then headed home, a bag of gear in my backseat.
I was pleased to see Mason’s car parked in front of my place when I got home.
Bag of sporting goods over my shoulder, I hurried inside, calling his name as I dropped the bag and toed off my sneakers by the door.
He walked out of the kitchen, phone pinned between his ear and his shoulder, a platter of sliders and fries in his hands.
“That looks great,” I said, kissing his smooth cheek then swiping a small cheeseburger from the plate.
He blew me a kiss then continued talking with Becca, I presumed.
I chose to sit on the rolling hassock instead of the sofa as my clothes were covered with dust. Mason settled into the sofa, chatting steadily about this approval and that form, all the while yawning because I know for a fact he hadn’t slept more than an hour last night.
Nor the night before when I’d found him faceplanted in paperwork with a still warm coffee by his side.
Still I knew he had a ton of things to get done, and if this was hockey season I’d be just as distracted.
I waited and ate until it seemed the main part of the conversation was done, and I finally tapped his knee.
His gaze lifted from the cold French fry in his hand to me and he blinked as if he’d only just realized I was here.
“Sorry to interrupt but can I have you for maybe ten minutes to tell you about my morning with the kids.”
“Shit yes, of course. Becca, I’m going now.
No, yeah, I know we still have to iron out a few thousand things, but it’s Saturday and my man needs me.
” I felt stupid now. Immature. Like one of my tee-ball kids whining for attention.
Mason said his goodbye, lowered his phone, and gave me a hangdog look.
“I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been the worst boyfriend since I moved in.
It’s just that we had a Dunny situation and it’s left me—”
“What Dunny situation?” What the hell had the big oaf done now?
“In some of the tagged photos from Aruba he was flashing his ass, and I know he was only fooling around but one of our clients pulled us up on it.”
“Shit. I’ll talk to him.”
“You don’t have to, I already texted him and he was cool, untagged me, deleted it all.”
He leaned over to kiss me and his lips tasted salty. I liked it a lot. I cupped the back of his head, leading him around the table to my lap. His legs wrapped around my middle, his arms dangling over my shoulders. His tongue was soft, warm, and tempting as it slid into my mouth.
“Mm,” I purred into the ongoing kiss. He melted into me, his fingers resting on my shoulder blades.
“I love you,” he whispered, ending the kiss then reaching back to grab another slider.
This one he fed to me, bite by bite, as I filled him in on the team, our team mom, and the fact that little real baseball would probably be played.
“I’ll be there next Saturday for sure. It’s the first game, right? ”
“Yeah, we only have a few practices this week in the evening.” I paused to let him place a fry between my lips. I loved the feel of him in my arms, the weight of him on my thighs. “One of the adults there asked me about Brady.”
“Ah, the trade rumors.” He fed me another fry.
I chewed and nodded. “Yeah. It felt as if he was trying to jab at me without sounding like a true homophobe. He asked me if I thought a gay man could be a good captain because who would listen to someone like me.”
His jaw dropped. “No, he did not say that.”
“Yeah, he did. It pissed me right the fuck off.”
“As well it should have. You’d be a great captain. The whole team looks up to you.” He snuggled in closer, letting his head rest on my shoulder as his fingers slid up into my hair.
“I’d be the first.” I rested my cheek on his head.
“Tennant Rowe doesn’t have the captaincy.
None of the other queer players that I know of do.
I’d be the first. But it’s not even worth talking about as Brady is going nowhere.
The team will keep negotiating with him and then right before training camp they’ll give him what he wants and that’ll be that. ”
“Exactly. So fuck that guy and his stupid shit.” He dropped a kiss to my throat.
We sat there on the hassock for a bit, saying nothing just me sucking up comfort from his closeness.
“Let’s go out tonight.” He lifted his head from my shoulder to look at me with surprise.
“What? We’ve not really gone out as a couple since Aruba.
Let’s get dressed up and hit the town. Let’s rent a sailboat.
They have those romantic tours around the harbor.
Oh! Or we could check out the rose garden over by Fenway.
You like flowers. Then we could go to dinner somewhere chic, maybe hit a few clubs, or see a play.
I bet I could get us tickets to a play at the Charles Playhouse.
You said you wanted to see Hamilton. Oh hey, let’s check out that new gay dance club on Tremont Street.
You know the one. It was on the news the other night and you commented on it.
How cool it looked. Let’s do dinner and go dancing. ”
“Sure, yeah that all sounds great but,” he yawned so hard his jaw cracked. “I’m so damn tired.” I gathered him close, tight, and claimed his mouth hungrily. He clung to me like a vine, his kisses were sweet yet pained.
“Dinner and a play as soon as you’re settled in the new company,” I said.
“Thank you. I love you so much, Xander. You. Me. Us… it’s just shitty timing.”
I swept him up and carried him to my bed.
We tumbled into bed mouths locked, hands roaming eagerly.
He was a writhing live wire under me, his pleas steamy puffs of hot air fanning over my face.
I got him bared with speed then licked wet stripes all over his body.
I tongued his navel, his sides, his thighs, his ankles.
I sucked on his toes then moved up to his weeping cock.
He bucked and whimpered until I was stripped down and pressing into him, his slick heat enveloping me, the feel of his flesh tight around mine stole my breath.
We’d ditched the condoms a week ago after two negative tests.
I’d never imagined the difference would be this soul-shattering.
With a leg hooked over my shoulder, I began to pump.
The sound of my grunts, his mewls, and the slick hot sound of a lubed cock moving in and out of a tight ass filled our bedroom.
“I want… to ride… you,” he huffed as perspiration beaded on his upper lip.
I bent down, his knee by my ear, to lick up his salty sweat then taste his mouth.
He growled at the change of position, my cock bouncing off his prostate with each flick of my hips.
He pushed on my chest, so I eased out then fell to my back.
He was on me instantly, easing himself down on my dick, then rolling those lean hips of his.
My eyes rolled back in my head with each gyration.
My orgasm was upon me before I could stop it.
Hands on his hips, I held him to me, pounding up into him as I pumped him full.
His soft cries of pleasure joined mine. Cum spurted over my chest, thick ribbons of white dotting my belly.
I rolled us over, pushed deep, and crashed my mouth over his.
We rode it out joined in every way two men could be joined.
We showered and napped afterward then went at it again that afternoon with me on the bottom.
We got dinner, and hugged on the sofa, watching a cast recording of Hamilton.
It wasn’t quite going out for dinner and theater, but we did get to see the play, holding hands as “Helpless” filled the air.
Yeah, songs about his eyes kind of did me in. I was truly and helplessly in love.