Chapter 3
“Ijust wanna dance.” Rhys put a little extra whine into his voice. He thought it might make Alfie laugh. Instead his best friend only scowled at him. Rhys tugged on his hand again, but the larger man didn’t budge from his chair.
It was just dancing, Rhys didn’t know why he could rarely get Alfie to come out on the floor with him. Even some of their straight teammates were out there together.
It didn’t have to mean anything.
He did mutter something in Spanish. Rhys didn’t know exactly what it meant – he’d tried to learn the language before, but it never stuck in his head – but it didn’t sound complimentary.
Yet it sent a shiver down his spine and the start of an erection in his pants.
Damn that man. Didn’t he know how sexy that was?
As if he could sense Rhys’s thoughts, Alfie rolled his eyes. “No one is stopping you. I am fine sitting back here, though.”
Rhys sifted through his words to find the judgment in them. He knew it was there. Alfie probably thought Rhys should be content sitting there as well and watching everyone else have a good time.
Shudder. He couldn’t think of much worse. Other than being benched for an indefinite amount of time. That happened last season when he’d taken a blow to the head as a runner tried sliding home.
Worst month of his life. That included all the times he’d had to be dragged back to the Lowrys, and they’d prayed over him. Then there’d been the group home. Parts of that had been worse, and yet it had still been better.
And temporary, like everything else in his life. Even the team. If he messed up too much, or they saw someone they thought would help the team more, this could be yanked away from him.
There would always be another team, but he’d face the same thing there. They might not be as understanding as Turner often was.
Not to mention, those teams didn’t have Alfie on them. Alfie, who currently sat in front of him, watching him with those large, dark eyes. As if he knew more than what Rhys said. Fuck that. No one needed to know more about him. If they did, they certainly wouldn’t stick around.
No one ever did.
Rhys did not need those thoughts right now, so he tossed a smile Alfie’s way. “Suit yourself. I’ll go have fun while you…don’t.”
“You usually do,” Alfie murmured as Rhys turned away from him. He took those words like a blow to center mass, but he didn’t let it show. Just like when he kept his balance when a runner slid into him.
He’d known the judgment would come. He should have been better prepared for it.
He moved out into the crowd of dancers, swaying to the beat of the music.
Until the rhythm changed to something faster, with a deeper throb to it.
A hand ran over his shoulder and down to his chest, and he moved back against the body.
He closed his eyes and moved to the beat of the music, letting everything else fall away.
Rhys could still feel eyes on him. He didn’t need to turn around to know whom they belonged to, either.
He kept dancing, letting the heavy beat of the music, and the energy of the other bodies around him, block as much of that out as possible.
Alfie had made his feelings clear on the subject. Rhys liked to push boundaries at times, but he wouldn’t cross Alfie’s.
That was it. They would be friends and nothing more. That was fine. It’s not like Rhys couldn’t find someone else to scratch that itch with. Someone who wouldn’t judge him for that.
He shook off the thoughts, the memories. He was here to blow off steam, not get mired down in thoughts which should have been left in the past. None of that mattered.
He turned in the arms that were around him and took in the view.
Well the person’s chest was right there.
What else was he supposed to do? Rhys dragged his gaze up and took in the sharp chin, painted lips, the hair that fell down past their chin.
They continued to move against Rhys, pressing their hips to his, the bulge in their pants nudging against his stomach.
The song ended, and the person in front of him leaned in to brush their lips over Rhys’s. “I’m going up for a drink. Want to join me? Then, we can continue this dance somewhere a little more secluded.”
Wasn’t that what Rhys had been considering? So, why did his stomach clutch like he would bring up the subpar wings he’d consumed before going out to dance? He couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Alfie’s brown eyes were on him, that stormy look on his face.
Well, fuck it. Alfie didn’t want any of this.
That was his choice. It didn’t mean Rhys should have to shut himself off.
Away from the baseball diamond, this was the only time he felt like he wasn’t coming out of his skin.
He wouldn’t give that up just because yet one more person realized he wasn’t worth a damn thing.
Not that Alfie ever said those words to him, he was too kind for that. Didn’t his actions just prove it over and over? He might give in to what this was between them every once in a while, but before their bodies cooled, he pushed Rhys away again.
Every. Single. Time.
Fuck it. Rhys would take something for himself. He looked back at his dance partner. “Yeah, I would like that.”
The person—they hadn’t exactly exchanged names or pronouns before they’d started dancing so that was exactly how Rhys would continue thinking of them until he was told otherwise—took his hand and pulled him along toward the bar.
Rhys went easily, but he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder once more.
Alfie hadn’t moved, but his head was down now, his curls falling to shroud his face.
And he was picking at something in front of him.
Rhys tried to shut away all thoughts of that. If Alfie wanted something, he could damn well ask for it. Rhys wasn’t going to put himself out there again. Not where he wasn’t wanted.
His partner pushed a drink into his hand. Not the beer Rhys had been considering getting. One drink wouldn’t hurt. This one looked good, a tall glass of peach liquid. He could smell the ginger in it, pineapple as well, and something else cutting through both of them.
Rhys wouldn’t be in the lineup for tomorrow’s game, the skipper usually rotated between the three catchers on the roster. He wanted to have a clear head in case they needed him.
This would be fine, but he’d stop after it.
Rhys took a long swig of the drink, his mouth twisting at the overly sweet taste.
Bubblegum, that’s what it reminded him of.
The too sweet kind that hardened way too quickly.
He took a second swallow before setting it on the bar.
He didn’t mind sweet drinks, and other sweet things, when he was prepared for them. Not that, though.
The sweetness masked the alcohol in the drink, but it hit him now. Just enough to make his head feel lighter. He took another sip, slower this time. Now that he expected it, the drink wasn’t too bad.
He’d finished half of it before his partner tugged on his hand again. “Come on,” they said. “I want to get those sweet lips on me.”
Rhys’s head felt a little light as he followed them across the dance floor and back into an empty corridor. “You know your way around here,” Rhys said.
“I used to work here, and I’m still a regular. We can have some privacy back here,” they said, pushing into a dark room.
They pressed Rhys back against the door, their lips coasting over Rhys’s then their tongue licking at the corner of his mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about this since you came in tonight.
Especially when I got a closer look at this mouth.
Are you going to put it on me? I’m sure it can do wonderful things. ”
Rhys wanted that. Almost more than he wanted to be touched. Giving pleasure made him feel… something. He’d never quite been able to put it into words. He certainly wasn’t going to now. Instead he dropped to his knees and unzipped their jeans.
One of their hands slipped into his hair as he took the head of their cock into his mouth. “Yeah, I knew that mouth would know what to do.”
Rhys soaked in the praise. He could at least do this. And he could shut out Alfie’s dark eyes from his mind. For at least a few minutes.