Chapter 12
Another road trip. Another three nights of fun with Evan.
The want had been an itch under my skin through nine innings of him stretching and swinging.
It was there on the bus ride back, a current in the small space where his knee pressed against mine. It sparked in the elevator when his hand brushed my back.
I wanted more. More than his cock in my mouth, more than his hand on my dick. I wanted to take him apart in a way he’d never been before.
Evan was stretched out on his stomach, completely naked, his face turned to one side on the pillow. His arms were folded loosely under his head, his back a broad plane of muscle that tapered down to his waist and then—
His ass.
It was right there, full and round and impossibly thick. His legs were slightly parted, one knee bent enough to tilt his hips and accentuate the curve. The overhead light caught the fine blond hair on his thighs, the shadow between his cheeks deep and inviting.
I’d drawn this exact image plenty of times, and not a single sketch captured the reality. I had to have him, that ass, until neither of us could think straight.
“You gonna stand there all night?” Evan’s voice was muffled by the pillow.
I crossed to the edge of his bed, my heart hammering. I let my eyes travel down his spine one more time, lingering on the swell of his ass. Then I pushed the words out before I could overthink them. “Want me to start from the back tonight?”
Evan snorted. He turned his head, one blue eye finding me over the thick shelf of his shoulder. “You can squeeze my cheeks and play with them all you want, but that’s as far as you’re gonna go.”
His tone was matter-of-fact, but I caught the hint of amusement under it. He’d drawn a clear line in the sand, and fine, noted. But that wasn’t the territory I was trying to claim. “I was talking about eating it.”
Evan’s head lifted off the pillow. He twisted further, craning his neck to stare at me full-on. His mouth fell open into a tiny, perfect O, and I held my breath, savoring the sight of the great Evan Brock, completely stunned.
“You want to eat my ass,” he said, his voice cracking like a teenager.
“Yeah.”
“Like…tongue. On my—”
“In your ass, Evan. Yes.”
He blinked. His mouth closed, then opened again. “People do that?”
“People do that.”
“To guys?”
“To anyone with an ass and a willingness to lie still.”
He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His cock, half-hard and heavy, fell against his thigh, but for once I wasn’t looking at it. I was watching his face—the rapid processing behind those ocean eyes as he considered the idea.
“That’s…” He trailed off. “Isn’t that kind of—”
“Don’t say gross. It’s no different from going down on a girl.”
His mouth snapped shut. A flush crept up his neck, and he scrubbed a hand over the back of his head, mussing his already disheveled hair further. “I was going to say intense.”
“It is intense. That’s the point.”
He studied me, his expression caught between curiosity and trepidation. “And you want to do this,” he said, drawing the words out. “This is something you’d enjoy?”
“Evan.” I let my gaze drop to his ass, then back to his face. “I’ve been thinking about this since you joined the team. This isn’t a favor. It’s living out a fantasy.”
The uncertainty on his face gave way to that competitive spark I knew from the batter’s box. The one that made him swing for the fences on a 3-2 count. My own resolve hardened in response.
He rolled onto his stomach, the mattress groaning. “Alright,” he said into the pillow. “Let’s see what happens.”
My heart rate tripled. “Yeah?”
“Yes. Before I change my mind, Tommy.”
He spread his legs wide, planting his knees into the mattress, and tilted his hips up.
His ass rose from the bed, perfectly shaped and impossibly close, and his balls hung low.
He flexed, making both cheeks tighten then release, and glanced over his shoulder with a smirk.
But his eyes were too wide to be entirely confident.
“Well? You gonna stare at it or eat it?”
I sank onto the bed behind him, my knees between his thighs. This close, the image resolved into details my sketches had only guessed at. My breath came out hot against his skin, and I watched goosebumps erupt across his lower back.
Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his right cheek. A soft, quick kiss.
Evan let out a surprised laugh, his face dropping into the pillow. “I’ve told plenty of people to kiss my ass,” he said, his voice muffled. “This is the first time someone’s actually done it.”
“Happy to be your first.” I kissed the left cheek for symmetry, and he squirmed. “Now shut up and let me work.”
I placed my hands on his cheeks and spread them apart. The skin was smooth and warm, and the muscle beneath was firm. I had to use real pressure to open him up, and when I did—
There it was. His hole.
The sight of it, pink and clenched, sent a painful throb straight through my cock. I leaned in, inhaling his musky scent before I flattened my tongue and dragged one long, slow stripe from his balls, over the seam of his perineum, and over his hole.
His back arched off the mattress. Both fists drove into the pillow on either side of his head, and the tendons in his forearms stood out prominently. The muscle of his inner thigh jumped once, hard, against my cheek.
“Oh!” The word broke apart in his throat. “Oh, shit!”
I licked him again. Longer this time, slower, letting the flat of my tongue drag across the tight ring of muscle.
“What the—” He gasped, his hips pushing back into my face. “How is that—why does that feel so—”
I didn’t answer. I licked him again, and again, building a rhythm. Long strokes that started at his perineum and ended at his tailbone, each one pressing a little harder against his hole.
I’d spent three seasons sketching this ass, imagining this exact scenario while I jerked off in my dorm room or the equipment closet, or anywhere I could get my hand around my cock. And now my tongue was on him, and the reality was so much better than any fantasy.
Evan’s thighs were trembling. The strongest man I’d ever met, the guy who crushed baseballs over outfield walls and put grown men in hospitals, was shaking because of my tongue on his ass.
“Tommy.” His voice was wrecked already.
I pointed my tongue and pressed it directly against his hole. His entire body jerked forward, and the noise he made was guttural and shocked.
“Oh, God. Oh, my God.” His face was buried in the pillow, both hands fisting the sheets on either side of his head.
I pulled back just enough to speak, my lips brushing his skin. “Relax into it.”
“I can’t—I’m trying—holy shit, Tommy.”
I dove back in, alternating between broad, flat licks and focused, pointed pressure against his opening.
His hole was loosening under my attention, the tight clench giving way.
Every pass of my tongue left him wetter and looser.
His hips rocked back against my face in small, involuntary movements, chasing my mouth without conscious thought.
I was painfully, achingly hard, my cock straining against the cotton of my boxers. But I didn’t touch myself. Every ounce of focus was on him—on the way his hole fluttered when I circled it with the tip of my tongue, on the way his feet drummed the mattress when I pressed in harder.
I sucked gently at his rim, and his spine curved dramatically. I thought he might snap in half. A strangled scream died behind his knuckles.
I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My jaw was starting to ache, but I wasn’t stopping. Not even close.
“Flip over,” I said.
Evan lifted his head from the pillow. His face was flushed deep red, his eyes unfocused and wild. “What?”
“On your back. Pull your legs up to your chest.”
He stared at me, his chest heaving, his brain clearly short-circuiting. Then he rolled over.
His cock was a monument between his hips—flushed dark, veins standing in relief, the head slick and shining with the steady stream of precum leaking from his slit. It bobbed with every heartbeat, angry and untouched.
He grabbed behind his knees and pulled his legs up, his thighs pressing against his chest. His knees rose toward his ears, his hips tilting up, and his ass opened to me completely.
He stared at me from between his raised knees, his cock hovering above his face, a thin thread of precum dangling precariously.
“Like this?” His voice cracked.
“Exactly like that.”
I dropped back down, my hands gripping the backs of his thighs, and pressed my mouth to his hole. He jerked, his abs clenching, a sharp “Ah!” punching out of him.
I reacquainted myself with the terrain from this new angle. His hole was even looser now, puffy and swollen from my attention, twitching against my tongue with every pass.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” The words tumbled out of him in a continuous stream, his head thrown back against the pillow, his neck corded with strain.
I sealed my lips around his rim and sucked, then released, then licked a tight circle around the edge. His legs shook violently in my grip.
And then I pointed my tongue and pushed inside.
The scream that ripped out of Evan Brock was unlike anything I’d ever heard from a human being. It tore through the hotel room as my tongue breached the ring of muscle and slid into the hot, tight clutch of him.
“FUCK!” His hand flew to his cock, wrapping around the shaft in a white-knuckled grip. “Oh, my God! Oh, my GOD! You’re inside me—your tongue is inside—”
I pushed deeper, working my jaw, my tongue flexing against his inner walls. He was soft and hot inside, the muscle gripping my tongue in rhythmic pulses. I pulled back and thrust in again until I was fucking him with my tongue.
His hand was a blur on his cock. Fast, frantic, graceless—nothing like the controlled strokes I’d watched him use on himself before.
His cock dangled directly above his face, the angle of his folded body pointing it straight down at him.
His eyes were crossed, locked on the gaping slit of his cockhead as it leaked in a continuous stream, precum dripping in thick drops onto his chin and lips.
“I’m gonna—oh, I think—Tommy, something’s—” His voice was climbing, pitching higher with every word. His hole fluttered wildly around my tongue in a rapid, uncontrollable rhythm.
I pressed deeper, curling my tongue upward, and Evan’s entire body went rigid. Every muscle locked at once. His mouth fell open in a silent scream, his eyes rolling back, and then his hole clamped down on my tongue.
The first rope of cum erupted from his cock with a force that defied physics.
It shot straight down into his open mouth—a direct, unavoidable hit.
His eyes flew wide, and the sound that came out of him was a choked, gargling shriek of pure shock as more pulses followed, coating his tongue and teeth and spilling over his lips.
He tried to turn his head, but his body was still locked in orgasm, his knees parallel to his ears, and another shot painted a white stripe from his chin to his forehead.
His throat worked involuntarily around the cum that was filling up his mouth. He was choking on it, his face a mess of semen and disbelief, his hand still locked around his cock as the final droplets dribbled out.
“MMPH—” He released his cock and slapped both hands over his mouth, his legs finally dropping to the mattress. He rolled sideways, and I barely got out of the way before he was off the bed and sprinting to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.
The faucet turned on immediately. Violent, repeated spitting followed by a sound that was unmistakably gagging. More spitting. A long silence stretched out, punctuated only by heavy breathing.
And then a laugh, choked and disbelieving at first, dissolving into a wheeze.
The bathroom door opened. Evan stood in the frame, a towel slung over one shoulder, his face freshly scrubbed but still flushed an impossible shade of red. His hair was sticking up in six directions. A streak of cum he’d missed glistened near his hairline.
He was grinning. Shaking his head slowly back and forth. “That,” he said, pointing at me, “was a direct hit into my fucking mouth. Like a goddamn sniper. Though, how in the hell can you like that taste?”
“It’s delicious coming from you,” I said.
Evan’s grin faltered. His mouth opened and closed. A fresh wave of red crept up his neck and spread across his chest—deeper than the post-orgasm flush. He looked away, his jaw working, and scrubbed the towel across the back of his neck.
“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered.
The quiet that followed was comfortable in a way that still surprised me every time. Evan crossed back to the bed and sat on the edge, his elbows on his knees, staring at the carpet between his feet.
“I’ve never come like that before,” he said. His voice was low, almost reverent. “I didn’t think that was possible, coming from a tongue in my ass.”
I’d wanted to take him apart, and I had. Completely. The great Evan Brock, undone by a tongue and nothing else. I almost laughed. “Would you be up for that again sometime?”
I watched his jaw work from my peripheral vision, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed the question, waiting for the catch, the risk.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “I would.”