by Holley Trent
He drummed the fingers of his free hand against his knee.
Since they were here, maybe he should just go with the flow. See what happened. It was probably a better plan than inviting him into a threesome and hoping Bart accidentally touched him. He’d already done that. Backfired.
There was no doubt about it that the man sprawled on the bed was so sexy it was a sin. That dark and dangerous attitude worked on him because he had the looks to go along with it.
Yeah, Evan wanted him.
And maybe if Bart wanted him back, he’d be more keen on sticking around for another season. He wouldn’t abandon Evan and move back to whatever backwater town it was that he came from.
Evan didn’t even know where he was from. Why didn’t he know that?
He stared at the muted television without really seeing it, just thinking.
Bart’s breaths shifted to quiet snores.
Evan set the remote control on the chair arm and stared at the man in black. “Figures that he’d dress the exact opposite of the theme,” he muttered. “Contrary motherfucker.”
When he wasn’t in his Roosters uniform, Bart was in a uniform of another sort. Dark jeans—usually black—and a black shirt. His footwear was either cleats or his motorcycle boots. The loafers he’d just kicked off were the same pair he wore during mandatory team meals and press events.
His entire life was in that duffel bag, and apparently he was used to living like that.
Evan looked between the television and Bart for the better part of an hour, plotting his next move. Maybe seducing him would be easier if he were amenable to trying the threesome thing again. Bart hadn’t had fun during the last one, but that hadn’t really been his fault. That chick Evan had brought back to their room had come on far too strong. He was surprised that Bart hadn’t killed him for that later. Evan had never seen a man so disinterested in getting his cock sucked in all his life. The chick hadn’t seemed to notice Bart yawning his way through it, but Evan did. He thought maybe he could do a better job.
“Hmm.” Evan turned off the television and padded the short distance across the carpet to the side of the bed. Bart was in a dead man’s pose, flat on his back, and his arm had fallen away from his face.
Would he be more excited if it was Evan’s mouth on him and not some stranger’s? Or would he yawn his way through that, too?
He put his knee on the bed and reached slowly for Bart’s belt buckle.
“Am I really doing this?”
He’d never sucked a cock before. Had never thought he wanted to, until Bart.
The belt buckle unfastened with an easy tug, and Evan pulled at the tab of Bart’s slacks before he lost his courage.
“What are you doing?” came Bart’s gravely voice.
Evan unzipped him. “Let me.”
“Let you what?”
“Touch you.”
Evan worked his fingers beneath the elastic band of Bart’s boxer shorts and tugged it down. The head of his flaccid cock came into view, and Evan felt a surge of blood moving to his own as he saw it. He’d only seen Bart hard once, and that had been during that ill-fated threesome. He’d ended up jacking himself off. The sight of his rough hand on his dick had made Evan shoot his load before he’d made his date come.
That hadn’t happened to him since he was eighteen.
He couldn’t get Bart’s pants down any farther, though. Not without help.
“Most people like to be asked first,” Bart said. He pushed up onto his forearms. His expression was an unreadable blank.
Evan swallowed. “You gonna tell me no?”
Bart stared at him, silent for so long that Evan had one mind to just back away and give up, but he couldn’t. He had to do everything he could to make Bart want to stay. To want him.
“You’re never going to let me get a good night’s sleep, are you?”
The tension in his gut eased somewhat. Banter’s a good thing, right? “You’d have all of the off-season to sleep if you didn’t live on your bike. Lift your ass.” He gave Bart’s waistband a tug.
Bart grunted, but raised his torso up.
Here we go.
Evan pulled Bart’s pants and boxers down to just beneath his balls, and stared.
Maybe he wasn’t being cool about it, but he didn’t have automatic reflexes for this the way he did with women. When he was with a woman, he knew exactly which knobs to twiddle, which buttons to push, and in what order. Pleasuring Bart should have been instinctual given he had a dick himself, but…it just wasn’t.
He settled on the bed between Bart’s knees with his fingers still curled beneath his waistband.
“You’ve seen it before, Evan.”
“Yeah, I—just give me a minute.”
“Do something. I could be asleep right now, and now that I’m up, I could just as soon go downstairs and get something to eat. Something more filling than fish eggs on crackers.”
“It was gourmet.”
“Evan.” Bart’s voice was stern, and his cock still soft.
Evan couldn’t help feeling a bit bruised by that. Could it be that Bart didn’t find him as attractive as all of Evan’s other lovers had?
Or maybe Bart just didn’t want to be his lover. Evan had never met any of Bart’s partners. Had never heard anything about them or what they were like. He couldn’t even begin to speculate on what the man’s type was.
Bart lay back and draped his arm across his eyes again. “All right, then. If you get bored sitting there like that and decide to wander off, just cover me up before you go.”
Evan cringed, and was glad Bart couldn’t see it. Taking Bart’s limp cock in his hand, he ran his thumb over the ridges and trailed a finger around the flared crown. In his grasp, it seemed insignificant. Fragile. But, he knew better. He’d seen it hard and upright, and knew that the phrase “grower, not a shower” had been devised to describe cocks like Bart’s.
A pearl of pre-cum glistened at the slit, and without thinking, Evan leaned down and licked the satiny head.
Bart’s cock twitched, and he moved his arm away from his face, looking down his body at Evan.
He must have liked that.
Evan did it again. He dragged his tongue around the head and pulled the entire dick into his mouth, which was still an easy thing to do.
It was surprisingly easy to push back his anxiousness about what he was doing as long as he concentrated on sensual things. Bart’s salty taste. The earthy scent of his body. The smoothness of his cock, but coarseness of the hair between his legs that rubbed against Evan’s chin.
He closed his eyes and concentrated hard on keeping his teeth off Bart as he grew in Evan’s mouth.
His hand pressed at the back of Evan’s head as his cock neared his throat. Evan flattened his tongue against the underside of Bart’s cock, trying to keep it from choking him.
“If you’re going to suck dick, you’ve gotta learn to take it down your throat. You can’t just lick the head.”
“I’m trying,” Evan muttered around it. He could barely move his jaw as it was.
“First time, huh?”
Evan didn’t answer. He pulled back a bit, wrapped his fist around the base of Bart’s cock, and sucked the head.
“Let me give you some pointers, then. You’re not bathing it, you’re stimulating it. Don’t tickle me with your tongue. Put some heart into it, you know? Suck me dry.”
“Fuck, I’m trying!”
“Try harder. Make me come in your mouth. If you don’t, I guarantee that within ten minutes, you’ll be wearing my spunk on your back.”
Fuck.
And he knew Bart meant it. He didn’t make idle threats outside of the bedroom, and Evan was certain that the same rule applied inside.
He hollowed out his cheeks and sucked harder. If this was the kind of play Bart expected, Evan wasn’t going to survive the next season. He was damn sure going to try, though.
“Mmm, that’s it.” Bart tilted his hips upward and thrust into
Evan’s mouth.
Evan suppressed his gag reflex and concentrated on working his tongue and massaging the shaft with his lips.
“Just like that. You like having a cock in your mouth, don’t you?”
He tried to shake his head, because he’d much rather have his cock be the one getting sucked, but Bart’s grip on Evan’s head was too sure.
He both thrust into his mouth and moved Evan’s head just the way he wanted it, controlling the rhythm.
Evan was doing all he could to keep up.
“Don’t get lazy, Evan. Rub my balls while you’re down there.”
Somehow, Evan managed to swallow around the thick blockage in his throat. Bart hissed and slammed his cock in farther.
Evan gulped, but did as the man said. He took Bart’s nuts in his free hand and massaged them, sucking all the while.
His own cock strained inside his pants, and he’d never felt more confused. He was getting his mouth fucked and was deriving no real pleasure from it, but his body didn’t seem to understand that.
He hoped Bart would get him off, too. Maybe he’ll tug me off with one of those rough hands, or—
Bart thrust up into him again and held his head very still as his cock convulsed in Evan’s mouth. He expended his load down Evan’s throat, and wouldn’t let him move until he’d taken all of it.
Evan coughed as Bart slid out of him, and concentrated on moving air down his battered throat.
He stared at Bart’s big, wet dick and scoffed. He’d had that thing in his mouth. It didn’t even seem possible.
Bart tucked it away and ruffled Evan’s hair. “There may be hope for you yet.”
Evan sat back and adjusted his painfully hard dick through his pants. “I can’t do that all season. I wouldn’t be able to chew or talk.”
Bart sat up. His pale eyes took on a dangerous glint. “Who said anything about you doing that all season?”
Shit.
Evan pushed his hair out of his eyes and rubbed them. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”
“You think sucking my dick is going to keep me on the field next year? Are you fucking kidding me?” He got off the bed and fastened his pants. “I bet you planned this all along. I don’t buy that this was a mistake or coincidence. You plotted to get me in here and do whatever you could to get me and my mitt back on the field next year. That’s low, even for you.”
“Fuck that.” Evan gave him a hard shove backward. “You’ve said it yourself. All I think about is pussy and baseball and it’s good thing I don’t have anything else going on in my life. Is that true, or have I suddenly developed a brain evolved enough for treachery?”
Bart pushed past him and jammed his feet into his loafers. “Good luck with your new catcher next year.” He tucked his shirt back into his pants and stormed to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“There’s gotta be another room here. I don’t care if it’s in the attic or in one of the BDSM dungeons. I’d rather sleep with whips and chains than a liar.”
“When did I lie, Bart?”
Bart yanked the door open and walked through it, muttering, “Unbe-fucking-lievable.”
“Shit.” Evan patted his pockets in search of his keycard. It wasn’t there. He rooted through the mess in his suitcase and found it at the bottom. “I really fucked this one up.”
He took off after Bart, but the other man was long gone by the time Evan stepped into the hallway.
He couldn’t let Bart leave thinking Evan would deceive him. And this wasn’t just about baseball. Yeah, he’d miss his partner on the field, but Bart was also the best friend he had. Bart was the only person in his life who didn’t take shit from him. He didn’t let Evan give anything but one hundred percent.
The fact that he made his dick hard was another problem altogether.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bart walked away from the reception desk shaking his head. Evan hadn’t lied. The hotel was full, and there wouldn’t be a room available until checkout time tomorrow. That was too damn late. If he could get a flight out in the morning, he wouldn’t need it. Maybe he could just hang out in the lobby all night. It wouldn’t be odd. Clint had said people at these Den of Sin events tended to burn the midnight oil, and then some.
Fucking Clint. Somehow, this was all his fault, if not Evan’s.
He exhaled and smoothed his hands over his shirt. His white ring caught on one of his buttons, and he yanked the damn piece of jewelry off.
Lame-ass idea, hooking people up like that. He deposited the ring at the base of a nearby ice sculpture, and took a step back to examine the damn thing. He’d only given it a cursory look before, but now that he had a whole night of nothing ahead of him, he had plenty of time to look. The statue looked like a full-sized replica of a Michelangelo sculpture, but where twigs and berries should have been was a gap…and not an artistically rendered one, either. Someone had hacked off the ice man’s dick, all of his fingers except for two, and left a gash where his mouth had been.
Bart whistled low. The thing must have cost a fortune, and whoever had gone after it must have really had an ax to grind. A pile of black velvet puddled at the base. Someone must have tried to cover it and the drape had fallen off.
The smell of charred meat wafted from the ballroom. His stomach growled out a protest. Of course they’d have real food in there now.
He checked his watch. Barely nine o’clock.
He made his way back into the crowd and kept to the perimeter of the room to reach the foodservice stations. Armed with a full plate in one hand and two beers in the other, he cut through the eight-top tables in search of an empty one, or at least one that only had a few people seated at it.
He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to stuff his face, drink his beers, and then maybe find a nice hard bench to sleep on.
No empty tables, but he found one near the dance floor occupied by only one very distracted couple. The guy was ignoring his meal, likely because he liked the flavor of the tit in his mouth better.
Bart grunted and sat on the opposite side. The giant centerpiece more or less blocked them out. It wasn’t that he didn’t find the sight arousing at all. He found bodies in general to be beautiful, but he’d learned how to block out distractions when he’d started playing baseball. Focus was fifty percent of the game, and his was impeccable. He wouldn’t even be able to catch a beach ball with Evan on the mound, otherwise. The man was a goddamned wild animal.
“Speak of the devil,” he muttered and prepared to gather up his beers, plate, and utensils to find another table.
Evan was on the dance floor, probably fifteen feet away. He had his mask on, a big smile, and the chipper chick from earlier was grinding her ass against his thighs.
“Typical.”
Bart scanned the room in search of another empty seat, but impossibly, the tables appeared to be even more packed now than they were earlier. Maybe he could take the plate up to his room…
Right. The room he shared with Evan.
Not gonna happen.
He could just abandon the plate. Take a walk or something.
“Yeah. Let’s go with that.”
He stood, grabbed the bottles, and was immediately bumped by a giggling female.
“Excuse us,” she said to his back.
He grunted and eased out from between the tightly clustered seats, only to turn and find the giggling female was Evan’s chick.
They had cha-cha’d or merengue’d or whatever the fuck they were doing right on over to Bart.
I’m going to kill him.
“I’m in a gold room,” the woman said to him. She was dancing as if Evan were a shiny silver pole instead of a man, grinding, and hooking her legs around his thighs as if she were going to climb him.
“Good for you.” Bart sighted the nearest door. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it led out to the pool area. Nice enough place to start his walk.
“I have a really big bed,” she added.
/> “I’m sure you’ll sleep comfortably tonight.”
“I hope so!” She giggled again.
Bart suppressed a snort. His guess at her I.Q. plummeted by the second. Perfect match for Evan. She wouldn’t ask him any hard questions, and would be easily talked in circles by Mr. Silvertongue.
“They set gold rooms aside for threesomes and more-somes,” she told Bart.
“And you’re on a recruitment drive?”
“Be nice, Bart,” Evan said.
“Oh, I’m being plenty nice, given the circumstances.” Bart let his gaze scan down Evan’s body to the prominent bulge between his thighs. Unbelievable. One minute, the guy was sucking dick, the next, he has a hard on from a chirpy chick who he claimed wasn’t even his type.
She pressed her hands to the chest exposed by Evan’s splayed shirt plackets and swirled her tongue around his nipple. She looked up at him, teasingly, but Evan’s stare was on Bart.
Try me, motherfucker.
“He doesn’t do threesomes, honey,” Evan said.
“Aww.” She pouted, and her hand moved down to Evan’s crotch.
He hissed as she groped.
“Maybe we can find someone else. I really wanted to try DP.”
Bart rolled his eyes and stared at the gilt ceiling. “I would break you like a stale pretzel,” he muttered.
“Bart,” Evan snapped.
“What?”
“All you had to say was no.”
“I’m pretty sure you knew I’d say that before you waltzed over here. Did you think she would make me change my mind?”
Evan draped an arm around her shoulders and stared in the general direction of her cleavage. “You need to loosen up. That’s what’s wrong with you. You’re not willing to change. Compromise.”
“I’m perfectly amenable to change.” He walked over, grasped Evan’s pants by the waistband, and gave the other man a little yank closer to him. “That’s why I’m quitting baseball. That’s a lot of change right there. Not having to share motel rooms with you all season and listen to you whine all night about our shitty record. Listening to you fuck.”