Chapter Seven #3
Chomping his gum so hard he was about to dislocate his jaw, Skip glared and hissed a warning to Nico, who slumped down on the bench, his lips pressed into a thin line and arms crossed, steam practically shooting out of his ears.
The guys down there gave him a wide berth, and attention turned to the field as the team went up to bat.
Jake was tempted to go over and tell Nico to cut the shit, but hopefully they’d score an insurance run or two and he’d get his head out of his ass.
Naturally that didn’t happen. After a pop-up, a ground out, a walk, and a fly ball, it was time for Murakami to close it out in the top of the ninth.
Jake pushed Nico from his mind. The crowd cheered Murakami’s arrival from the bullpen, clapping along to musical interludes and doing the wave, excitement brimming.
When he was ready, Jake flashed the signs.
Three outs, and this one was in the bag.
Too bad the bag had a big fucking rip in the bottom.
Murakami was usually steady as a rock, his breaking balls fooling hitters from both sides of the plate.
But after a walk and a hit, Atlanta’s second baseman ripped a three-run homer.
Head low, Murakami trudged to the dugout in the middle of the inning after retiring the other hitters, the dissatisfied crowd unnervingly quiet.
Jake patted Murakami’s back, his jersey damp. “It’s okay. A bad day at the office. Happens to all of us.”
Murakami shook his head. “Tell that to Agresta.”
“He’ll survive. That’s just the way it goes sometimes.” Jake gave him another pat, then realized Nico was staring daggers at Murakami, who slumped on the bench. Jake briefly glared down the dugout at Nico and added, “We still have a shot to tie it up or pull ahead.”
Unfortunately, it was three up, three down in the bottom of the ninth, and that was the ballgame. The crowd shuffled out of the stadium as the team retreated to the clubhouse. Nico’s hands were balled into fists, and he kicked the side of the bench before disappearing down the steps.
Clenching his jaw, Jake stalked down the tunnel to the dugout with the guys, no one saying much of anything, the silence thick but for the dull echo of their cleats. Nico was just ahead, and he muttered, “Should have kept me in. Could have had it. I fucking had it.”
As Nico shook his head and scuffed his foot, his cleats scraping the concrete, a bolt of anger fueled Jake’s steps. Grabbing Nico’s arm, Jake tugged him away from the entry to the locker room and down to the gym, deserted since they were going on the road in the morning.
Bypassing the main area of weights and cardio machines, he hauled Nico into the stretching room, slamming the door behind them and flipping on the overhead lights. Like everywhere else in the clubhouse, the room was accented in the team colors, and Jake blinked at the assault of red and white.
“What the fuck?” Nico yanked back his arm. His cap was pulled low over his face, his blazing eyes just visible under the brim.
“Stop acting like an asshole. Mura feels bad enough about the blown save without you sulking about it.”
“He only had to get three fucking outs.” Nico’s hands cut through the air. “How hard is that?”
“Sometimes it’s damn hard, as you well know.”
“I needed this win!”
“You needed it? No, the team needed it. Team always comes first, and we all fuck up sometimes. So no glaring and guilt-tripping. Come on, you’re better than this.”
“It’s wrong to care? Sorry if I give a shit about winning.”
“And I don’t?”
“Do you? Do you actually give a shit, Jake? You’re all calm and collected, but I remember you from back in the day. You were in it to win it. You lived and breathed baseball.”
Jake scoffed. “Of course I did. I was a kid. A rookie just like you are now. Then I grew up.”
“I didn’t know growing up meant not caring.
It’s in your eyes, you know. You go through the motions and say all the right things, but deep down it doesn’t matter to you if we make the playoffs or not.
You’re like, whatever. Maybe next year. Maybe not.
Who gives a fuck. ‘What happens happens,’ right? ”
As Nico’s words hit far too close to home, Jake flushed with hot anger and shame. “And what would you know about growing up? Caring doesn’t mean acting like a petulant brat. Just cut the shit, you hear me?”
“Or what?” Nico spat, raising his hands out to his sides.
His sweaty uniform clinging to him, pads still strapped on tightly, Jake slammed his catcher’s mask and helmet to the floor, and they bounced on the studio’s thick rubber tiles. “I’m pretty fucking tempted to take you over my knee!”
Nostrils flaring, chest heaving, Nico jutted out his chin. “I dare you.”
Even as he closed the distance between them with one long stride, a voice in Jake’s mind shouted for him to keep his cool. But then he had Nico’s upper arms in his grip, and it was only another step to a bench.
Jake hauled him over his lap.
Nico’s cap went flying, his short curls springing out. Jake’s right palm came down hard, and Nico jerked, his uniform pants surely not cushioning the strike at all.
Although he wasn’t as tall as Jake, Nico was still a big man, and he sprawled over Jake’s thighs just above the knee pads, palms on the floor, legs twitching as Jake brought down his hand again—once, twice, three times.
Jake held him down, his left hand splayed over Nico’s lower back as he hit him on his firm, round ass. Nico gasped sharply with each blow.
Get a hold of yourself! This is wrong!
Blood rushed in Jake’s ears, his chest heaving, and he realized his cock was swelling, pushing against the hard protective cup.
His hand still hovering in the air, he muttered, “Fuck, fuck!” An apology was scraping its way out of his throat when Nico groaned and jerked his hips, humping against Jake’s thighs.
A lightning bolt of desire ripped through Jake, his mind spinning. What the fuck is happening? This isn’t right. “Shit. This is…” This is fucked up beyond belief is what this is.
He staggered up, Nico sliding off and dropping to his knees, staring up at him, pupils huge and dark, red lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. Jake’s heart pounded as he fought the urge to shove Nico back on the floor and fuck him senseless.
Nico should have jumped to his feet and screamed at Jake for being such a prick, but he only knelt there like he was begging for it. No, this was impossible—
Jake’s breath hitched painfully, his knees almost giving out as Nico reached tentatively for Jake’s waistband.
Still looking up, he licked his lips, thick eyelashes low.
“Please?” he whispered, positively pleading, and Jesus Christ, Jake hadn’t had a clue Nico was apparently batting for his team.
His mind spun like a fastball thundering over the plate.
Words were beyond him as desire roared, and all he could do was nod helplessly, lust searing his veins, drowning out the garbled and distant voice of reason in his brain.
Nico tore open the belt and snaps of Jake’s uniform pants, unzipping them with a powerful tug and yanking them down to his knees. He made quick work of the cup as well.
Jake’s cock curved up, and Nico rubbed his cheek against it, his stubble rasping the sensitive skin. Jake panted through his open mouth as Nico buried his face in his crotch desperately, kissing and licking with needy little whimpers that got Jake even harder.
He tongued Jake’s slit, moaning, then took the shaft between his lips, almost choking himself as he sucked it deep, coughing and gagging. He pulled back and then tried again, sloppy and wet. Jake couldn’t bite back his moan, and he wavered, the bench digging into the backs of his sore knees.
Ignoring the pain, he spread his feet as much as he could with his pants around the tops of his leg pads, his gaze locked on the sight of his dick filling Nico’s mouth, stretching those red lips, spit dribbling down Nico’s chin.
Wet, filthy smacking and slurping filled the cool air, loud in Jake’s ears along with his own breathing. His hand still tingled from the spanking, and now he threaded it through Nico’s curls, making him moan low in his throat and suck harder, the wet heat so tight around Jake’s dick.
It was messy and raw, untrained, and Nico’s teeth scraped, but Jake didn’t care. He didn’t care that they were in the goddamned gym at the stadium and anyone could walk in. It should have horrified him, but the thrill reverberating in his bones was undeniable.
He might as well have been in quicksand, stuck in place with Nico at his feet, sucking him so prettily—blowing him like his life depended on it.
Jake tightened his grip in Nico’s hair, muttering, “That’s it. So good. Fuck, Nic.”
Breathing hard through his nose, Nico dug his fingers into Jake’s hips, bobbing his head, his face red, freckles standing out high on his cheekbones.
He looked up at Jake through those thick lashes, and their gazes locked, the suction of his mouth so perfect, the need in his eyes like a fist clenching Jake’s heart.
The orgasm tore through him before he could give a warning, but Nico swallowed greedily, sucking and licking, Jake’s cum dripping from the corner of his mouth. Jake still clutched Nico’s hair, and he realized he’d pulled far too hard.
As the haze of pleasure cleared, his vision refocusing, Jake smoothed his palm over Nico’s head, his dick slipping free from those thick, beautiful lips, white drops staining them, Nico still looking up at him as if at something wondrous.
Jake’s knees did give out then, and he smacked down on the bench, his spent dick hanging out and Nico at his feet. His hand still tangled in Nico’s hair, sweat and sex thick in the small room, the air conditioning humming in the walls.
“Fitz?”
The call was distant, but they scrambled apart. Yanking up his cup and pants, Jake cleared his throat and yelled, “We’ll be out in a minute!”
Closer now: “Cool.” It was Diego, and he added, “The media’s getting restless, so don’t take too long. Need their sound bites and all that shit.”
Fumbling with his belt, Jake forced a cheery tone. “Yep! We’re on our way.”
There was silence again but for the A/C and their harsh breath as they straightened their uniforms. Jake turned to inspect Nico. His face was still red, but he scrubbed his lips clean with the back of his hand and watched Jake warily.
“Don’t blame Mura. Talk about Atlanta’s power hitting and what a tough lineup they have. We’ll discuss…” He waved his hand in the air. “All this later.”
Nico nodded, following when Jake led the way out of the stretching studio and through the empty gym, concentrating on his breathing. What the fuck just happened? What did I just do?
Exactly what the holy hell they’d say to each other later, Jake had no idea.