Chapter Nine
Opening his eyes, Jake groaned loudly. The reason was threefold.
First, the team’s flight was way too early. He would kill to roll over and sleep another three, four hours. Knees creaking, he rounded his back, a dull throb stretching from his tailbone to his ribs.
Second, he’d actually spanked Nico Agresta. Without consent. At the clubhouse. While they were working. He’d officially lost his mind.
Third, Nico had blew him. That had actually happened. It hadn’t been some fever dream jerkoff session. No, Nico had taken Jake’s cock in that pretty red mouth and had sucked like his life depended on it.
And there was a fourth reason Jake was groaning and wishing he could go back to sleep and forget everything: He wanted to do it all again.
Rubbing his face, he stared at the stark white ceiling. The image of Nico on his knees, trust and desire shining from his eyes, his lips parted as he whispered “Please” had been seared into Jake’s cerebral cortex. Seeing Nico submissive like that had been a revelation.
Jake had always enjoyed sex. He’d liked a little BDSM with Ron and a few other guys over the years.
Sex didn’t always have to involve domination for him to get off, but if a partner liked being tied up or disciplined, the power and primal possessiveness in taking charge turned Jake’s crank.
He’d fantasized more than he should have about Brandon submitting to him, letting Jake control him. Letting Jake love him.
There was something heady about another person putting themselves in his hands.
He supposed it was part of why he’d wanted to be a catcher despite his height.
There had only been a handful of catchers that tall over the years in the majors, but once Jake had moved from third in the minors to fill a temporary gap behind the plate, he’d stayed put.
The trust the pitchers and managers placed in him to shape the game was a powerful thing. He kept the pitchers calm, talked them down when they started to panic, supported them and praised them, and helped them be their best selves.
It felt good to be that person. In the bedroom it was usually just about getting off, about pleasure. Ron was a successful man with his shit together, and Jake had enjoyed helping him unwind and let go. It had been fun and relaxing for both of them. No strings.
But thinking of Nico now, of his big brown eyes and sweet whimpers, of his shame and self-denial—his pain—all the strings in the world wrapped around Jake from head to toe, cutting off his circulation.
The urge to take Nico in his arms and keep him safe echoed through Jake like aftershocks from an earthquake.
Nico was so terribly afraid, and Jake wanted to make it better.
“I should have known.” His voice was hoarse in the empty room.
He should have guessed from Nico’s stares, the tension obvious in him, the pull between them that Jake had denied. But he hadn’t known until Nico had begged to suck him, had exposed himself so completely, trusting Jake in those moments even if he hadn’t been able to fully admit his sexuality later.
Jake understood why it was so hard to say it out loud, especially since Nico had never been with a guy before. Maybe it was just experimentation, but Jake’s gut feeling was Nico had been repressing his desires for a long time.
And oh, the things it did to Jake—the knowledge that he was first. He exhaled a shuddering breath, his body humming and dick twitching.
Maybe it shouldn’t have intrigued him even more.
Maybe it shouldn’t have turned him on. Yet the idea that his cock had been the first in Nico’s mouth, that he’d been the first to be gifted with that desperate passion, overwhelmed him.
First and last.
Kicking off the sheets, Jake shuffled to the bathroom, his stiff knees protesting.
He had to stop this train of thought before it jumped the tracks and derailed his life.
But as he pissed, his dick begging for attention, he couldn’t corral a simmering jealousy.
The idea of anyone else—male or female—touching Nico made him itchy, his skin too tight.
He glanced in the mirror at his scruffy face, his eyes bleary and hair on end. “You’re being ridiculous,” he said aloud. “You told him it can never happen again, and you were right. And now you’re talking to yourself, which is never a good sign.”
Smearing mint paste on his electric toothbrush, Jake hit the button, hoping the mechanical drone would drown out the rest of his thoughts.
No such luck. Nico had said it himself—he wasn’t a virgin.
But the way he’d worshiped Jake’s cock, it was as if Jake had watched a dam break, the flood unleashed.
If Nico had liked the taste of dick, what else would he like? Getting fucked? Having Jake’s cock deep in his ass? Would he like other power exchanges? Would he like it if Jake took him over his knee again, but in the bedroom this time?
Jake spit out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. He leaned on the sink, breathing too fast. God, he wanted to feel that bare ass under his palm, see it redden, hear Nico’s whimpers as his cock got hard against Jake’s leg. Because it would. It would get so damn hard.
What about if Jake tied him up? Blindfolded him? Would Nico like it? Shit, he’d look so pretty spread out, trembling, giving himself over, trusting Jake to take care of him…
“Stop thinking about this.” Jake glared at the mirror. “Now.”
As he took a barely lukewarm shower, scrubbing his skin vigorously, the thoughts of sex took a backseat.
Yet the protective impulse remained. Nico was so scared, and Jake had left him alone because Jake was afraid he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
He should have stayed and made sure he was okay.
The idea of talking to his family about it had shot Nico through with clear panic. Surely Marco and Val would be cool if Nico was gay or bi, but Mr. Agresta was definitely more old-fashioned, and certainly Nico’s grandmother was.
Jake couldn’t remember ever hearing them be hateful the summer he’d practically lived in their North Shore mansion, but it was a long time ago. Nico’s father was a bulldog, but Jake had never thought he was a bigot. Ugh. He desperately hoped the Agrestas weren’t homophobes behind closed doors.
Nico had barely smiled then, and he rarely did now either. But last night after he’d struck out Gerard, a smile had lit up his face, dimples creasing his cheeks. For a heartbeat, Nico had glowed with pure joy. Jake craved it now. He needed to see it again as much as he needed air.
After twisting off the shower, he rubbed a towel over his head. He had to stick to what he’d told Nico—that nothing could happen between them again. They could be friends. Nothing more.
And if that thought made Jake feel strangely hollow, it didn’t mean a thing.
Nico hissed, “Would you stop?”
Later that week, they were in the private terminal at the Detroit airport around midnight, waiting for their charter flight to Chicago. While most of the other guys played games, chatted, or tapped their phones, Nico sat in the far corner, ostensibly watching CNN on a wall-mounted TV.
After three games of rummy with Diego while the team waited for a mechanical problem on the plane to be fixed, Jake hadn’t been able to resist getting closer to Nico. He’d taken a chair three seats away and pretended to read on his tablet.
He put on his best faux-innocent expression. “What?”
Nico shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “It’s been days. Stop looking at me like I’m made of glass. I’m fine.” He muttered, “My ass is fine too.”
A completely inappropriate joke about how Nico’s ass was indeed fine sprang into Jake’s head. Fortunately he crushed it before it left his tongue. “I know. I’m not… I’m just sitting here.”
Nico rolled his eyes. “You’re pretending to read, but really you’re hovering over me like you think I’m going to shatter any minute.”
Okay, so he was worried. But Nico had a point. “I hear what you’re saying. I wasn’t trying to…hover.”
“Then stop it, and stop feeling guilty. If you don’t let it go, everything’s going to keep being fucking weird, and other people will notice, and ugh.”
“You’re right.” Sighing, Jake rubbed his face. “You’re totally right.”
“Stop worrying about it. We’re good. You look like shit.”
Jake huffed out a laugh. “Thanks.”
“I mean like you haven’t been sleeping well.” A little smile tugged at Nico’s mouth.
So you think I look good otherwise? Again, Jake obliterated the question before he could ask it out loud. Nico, on the other hand, looked the same as ever—too handsome to be allowed. He was his usual quiet, antisocial self.
Maybe he wasn’t affected the way Jake was. Maybe he was glad to put the incident in the past and move on. Maybe he really wasn’t gay or bi, and it had been a one and done type of thing.
But when Jake thought about Nico on his knees with that imploring expression on his beautiful face, the longing in that one word…
“Please.”
The way he’d swallowed Jake’s cock, choked on it desperately, like he’d been starving for it—like he’d die without it—when Jake thought about all that, he knew there was far more below Nico’s taciturn surface.
Jake refocused. “You’re right, I’ve been sleeping like crap. Sometimes I wish I could just unplug my brain.”
“Yeah.” Nico watched him like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.
“Someone told me once to imagine the trunk of a car, and you pack all your worries into it and shut the lid. Then you walk away, and you keep walking, and you fall asleep with all the shit locked away.”
Nico frowned. “That works?”
“Nope. I tried it, and I had to go back to the car so many times I was walking all night.”
Nico smiled, just a little arch of his closed mouth. On CNN, a story about selection for the all-star game played, and he slouched lower in his chair, any trace of mirth vanished.