Chapter Eight #2
“But I liked it,” Nico blurted. Blood rushing in his ears, he fisted his hands, blunt nails jamming into his palms. Jake was so close now, and God, he longed to touch.
Jake’s fingers tightened on Nico’s shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter. I should never have hit you.
It was unbelievably unprofessional. I still can’t believe I did it.
We were at work, and I’m not your boss! I had no right to treat you like that.
Jesus, not that being your boss would have made it any better. ”
Nico felt like it was his turn to say something, but he could only watch Jake mutely.
Jake whirled away, pacing in front of Skip’s desk. “It was absolutely unacceptable. I’ve never lost control like that. You just got under my skin. I can’t explain it. But God, that’s no excuse. If you want to work with Baldoni from now on, I’ll understand.”
The urge to go hide in a dark room with a bottle of scotch tugged at Nico, hot needles of mortification stabbing all over.
He’d finally given in and had sex with a man—with Jake Fitzgerald—and it had been something disgraceful.
Something wrong, just like him. The earlier sensation of belonging, of rightness, curdled into ugly shame.
His throat felt full of broken glass as he choked out, “No, it was me. You hit me, but I’m the one who liked it. I’m the one who begged to suck your dick. I’m a freak, okay? Just forget about it.” He backed up and yanked the door open, stumbling down the hall toward the locker room.
“No, no. Nico!” Giving chase, Jake hissed, “Wait!”
“Hey, Fitz, there you are. You gotta come see this.” One of their teammates—Araya or maybe Washington, Nico didn’t stop to look—called out, and Nico sped into the locker room, tugging off his dirty uniform and jumping into his street clothes without showering.
When he ducked back into the hall, Jake was surrounded by a few of the guys, who were showing him something on an iPad, but Jake broke away and caught Nico by the elevator down to the player parking lot. Jake’s hand was a brand on Nico’s arm even through his leather jacket.
“Please,” Jake muttered. “We have to talk. But not here. Can I come to your place?”
He wanted to say no, because what more was there to talk about?
Jake would try to make him feel better with hollow words, and Nico would still be a pathetic freakazoid.
But they had to work together, so he had to hear him out.
He rattled off his address on George Street.
“It’s a condo in the Market. I’ll tell the concierge you’re coming. ”
The elevator opened, and Nico jabbed at the buttons, keeping his eyes on his feet as the doors finally closed.
Nodding to the valet, Nico walked around his SUV and into the lobby, telling the solicitous guy behind the desk about Jake’s visit before taking the elevator up to the sixteenth floor.
Inside his condo, he hung up his jacket when he usually would have tossed it over a chair, fiddling with the hanger and then a mark he noticed by the collar. Licking his thumb, he scrubbed at it uselessly before giving up.
His white, silver, and black condo was nice—two bedrooms and bathrooms, an open concept and dark hardwood throughout, and a huge island in the kitchen he only used to heat leftover takeout. The team had organized it all and hired someone to decorate it too.
Now that Jake was coming over, Nico eyed the abstract paintings critically, little splashes and slashes of color that could have been done by a kindergartner.
As if Jake gives a shit about my art.
Broad windows and a balcony lined the outer wall of the living room, a big screen TV dominating the inner, black leather sectional filling the space in-between. Nico peered out at the city lights and the dark ribbon of the river before closing the vertical blinds tightly.
He could have walked to and from the ballpark, but driving made it easier to avoid fans and maintain his privacy. Ottawa was a small city, so fans knew a lot of the players lived in the condos in and around ByWard Market. However, Nico wasn’t keen on leading people right to his door.
He paced to the fridge, opening it to find beer, mustard, pickles, ketchup, and a Styrofoam container of Thai that had leaked reddish oil, drip, drip, dripping down to the top of the empty crisper. Not that he could eat anything if he tried, even though he knew he should.
The knock jolted him, dread churning his stomach.
When he opened the door, Jake stood at the threshold, his hair sticking up in sweat-dried spikes.
He’d apparently skipped a shower too, considering how quickly he’d made it over.
His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his light jacket unzipped.
Nico waved at it. “Do you want…” He opened the closet and took out a hanger as Jake came in and handed over his jacket.
He wore a purple Henley underneath, and he bent to untie his brown boots, the leather worn and soft-looking.
Nico was suddenly strangely embarrassed that he was still wearing his sneakers, and he reached down to tug them loose.
“Sorry,” Jake said. “Canadian habit I never got out of. We’re big on taking our shoes off. Lots of snow. Not that you don’t get snow in Chicago.”
“No, it’s good. Keeps the floors cleaner.” His socks were sweaty and gross, so he peeled them off and stuffed them into his shoes. “Beer?”
“Sure.” In his dark socks, Jake followed to the kitchen on the left side of the open space. “Nice place.”
“Thanks. The team arranged it for me.” He opened the fridge and popped the top off two bottles.
Jake said, “I told them I’d handle it myself, but I haven’t seemed to find the time.”
Nico passed a bottle over. Their fingers brushed, and he was pretty sure this was hell.
Excruciating small talk with the guy he’d sucked off.
The guy who’d spanked him because he was being such a brat.
The guy who was Jake Fitzgerald of all people in the whole world.
In his countless fantasies, hooking up with Jake had never ended like this.
By the fridge with the black, granite-topped island between them, Nico chugged half his beer and took a deep breath, forcing the words out in a rush. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole. Can we just move on and forget this?”
Still holding his untouched beer, Jake shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. For throwing shade at Mura in the dugout, sure. But not for anything else. I initiated it all by acting completely inappropriately.”
“It wasn’t exactly ‘appropriate’ for me to get on my knees and beg to suck you either.
” His face burned, and he stared at the green glass bottle in his hand, feeling the weight of Jake’s gaze like lasers.
“It was wrong and weird and fucked up, like you said. So can’t we just pretend it never happened? ”
“Nic.” Jake’s voice was soft and a lot closer now, and butterflies swirled in Nico’s belly.
Jake had rounded the island, stopping a couple feet away.
“It was wrong because we work together. Because we were at work. Because I was angry. We were both angry. But getting turned on by it in general isn’t wrong. ”
Nico’s breath came too fast, his body shaking as he forced himself to meet Jake’s gaze. “You don’t think I’m a weirdo for liking it? I never thought—I’ve never tried any of that stuff. I had no idea.” He stepped closer without meaning to, only a foot between them now.
“No, you’re not a weirdo. Plenty of people like it. I like it.” Jake looked away and gulped his beer. “I was hard, wasn’t I?”
He nodded, the memory of Jake’s throbbing cock, the head flushed red, sending a shower of sparks through Nico’s veins. He watched Jake’s face, and when Jake looked at him again, they stared at each other, Nico’s heart pumping harder with each beat, the air heavy.
Clearing his throat, Jake turned and took a few steps toward the living room. “Like I said, I’ve done things like that before, but never at work. Never in anger.”
Jealousy roared through Nico, hating the nameless and faceless men Jake had been with. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “You do BDSM stuff?”
Jake took a gulp of beer, his eyes on the blinds covering the wide windows as if he could see beyond. He jammed his free hand into his pocket. “Yeah. I’m not into the full-on lifestyle with TPEs, but I enjoy it in the bedroom.”
Swirling the letters around, Nico came up blank. “TPE?”
“Sorry—total power exchange. Sometimes a dom and sub will maintain those roles twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I’m not into that.” He laughed weakly. “Sounds exhausting, honestly. But to each their own.”
How was this actually a conversation they were having? In real life? “Oh.”
Spinning and putting his beer on the counter, the glass clinking loudly on the granite, Jake scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Look, this shouldn’t have happened, but I didn’t mean to shame you. I’d never want to do that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is, though. You said you’ve never been with a guy before?”
Gripping his bottle, Nico shook his head. He knew how pathetic it must sound.
“But you’ve wanted to?”
That one little syllable was still hooked deep in his chest, unyielding: Yes. “I don’t know.”
“Have you wondered about it before?”
Memories of Jake flooded his mind: squatting in the backyard with his catcher’s mitt, laughing with Marco, kissing Nonna’s papery cheek, slinging his arm around Nico’s skinny shoulders, seeming like a giant, the sun catching in his sandy hair.
“A couple times, I guess.” God, he was such a liar. He’d sucked Jake’s dick, but he still couldn’t come clean.
Jake sighed. “I’m sorry. I know how tough it can be, especially if you’re confused. Have you talked to Marco or Val, or—”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Laughing incredulously with a burst of nervous energy, Nico backed up, the handle of the fridge ramming his spine. “No way. I’m not… No way.” He tried to catch his breath. “Does Marco know about you?”
“No. I wasn’t comfortable telling anyone back then.” Jake’s twist of a smile was rueful. “Not that I’m super comfortable telling anyone now. My family knows, but I’m not exactly the poster boy for being out and proud.”
“Oh.”
Jake scratched behind his ear, then took a sip of his beer, his gaze skittering around.
“Back then, I worried about how it would affect my career. How things could change with the guys in the locker room, with the fans. Every time I made a mistake on the field, I was afraid it would be all about my sexuality if I came out. But at this point I just want to finish up my career without controversy. It’s selfish, I know. ”
“No, I get it.” Tracing a seam in the hardwood with his big toe, Nico couldn’t bear to look up.
“Nico…” Jake waited until Nico met his gaze, then gently said, “You know we can’t ever do anything like that again. We’re teammates, and I’m older, and it would be completely inappropriate on so many levels. We have to stay focused on our jobs.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded vigorously, cringing at the way Jake was being so kind, like Nico was something terribly fragile he didn’t want to break. Nico shrugged carelessly. “Just got caught up. No big deal.”
“Okay.” Jake ran a hand through his hair.
“But if you ever want to talk, it’s not like we can’t be friends.
” He smiled faintly, and Nico was struck by regret that he hadn’t had the chance to taste those lips just once.
“My mom thinks I could use more of those, and she’s usually right about everything.
And…” He stepped closer again, his hand lifting before he curled his fingers and dropped his arm to his side.
“I know what it’s like, being in the closet. ”
“Right. I’m not. This was…” Nico tried to smile too, pretending his heart wasn’t about to pound through his chest. “Anyway. Been a long day.”
“Right, okay.” Jake drained his bottle and headed for the door, where he grabbed his coat and stuffed his feet into his boots without doing them up, clearly just as eager to end the torture. He opened the door. “See you tomorrow. We can work some fastball drills.”
“Great. See ya.” Nico closed the door behind him and flipped the lock.
Tomorrow.
God, he’d have to see Jake not only tomorrow, but the next day, and the day after that, and practically every single fucking day until the season ended at the beginning of October.
Leaning back against the door, he tried to breathe evenly.
He had to just forget it. Had to forget what it had felt like to be bent over Jake’s knee, to have the sting of his hand on Nico’s ass, and how it had turned him to butter, the hard block of tension inside him melting in a way he couldn’t explain.
He hadn’t needed to be perfect in that moment—he just had to be.
Never in a million years had Nico thought he’d get off on that.
He thought of the words Jake had used—dom and sub.
He knew there were people who liked being tied up.
Did Jake do things like that? His dick twitched, an electric coil of want in his belly at the idea of being restrained while Jake touched him.
While Jake did anything he wanted. Did everything while Nico could simply let go.
The tension was back now, the thick brick jammed in his chest, immovable and crushing the desire. He had to forget it—the freedom and thrill of being controlled, of the taste of Jake’s cock stretching his mouth, the rightness of it.
These weren’t things he could have—not with Jake, not with anyone. But for the first time, he allowed himself to think of someday. Maybe he could have it then, once baseball was over.
Curled in bed after a cold shower, he imagined stubble rubbing against his in a hard kiss, sweat and muscles and maybe laughter, someone who understood him. Loved him, even.
And there in the darkness, his duvet pulled up to his ears, if he thought of Jake with him in that distant, impossible someday, no one had to know.