Switch Hitter

by Cheyenne Meadows

  Tucker passed out bottles of water from the cooler as the guys came in from the field, wanting to be useful instead of just sitting around like a bump on a log. He’d been replaced by Lance for the last part of their practice. Suited him fine for today, although he still wanted to be out there with his guys. A week ago, he’d gotten the opportunity to do just that. His appetite for the game had been whetted even more with the taste of what he’d always had until just recently.

  At least Banner had made him the exclusive designated hitter for all their recent games. His batting average reflected the extra work, attention to details, advice from Dixon, and Tucker’s own determination to earn his spot back. The numbers climbed steadily. His field play had returned as well, though he didn’t get nearly as many chances in that department. It would come, he knew, with time. After all, his confidence increased each day as events in his life fell into place.

  They’d won their last three games, breaking their slump and putting them right back at the top in the standings. Exactly where they always wanted to be. To boot, they beat the Stars in dramatic fashion, which added to their self-esteem and contentment with their play. Tucker counted that steal of home as one of his best moments in the sport. When he considered how many he’d had over the years, that was saying something.

  Dixon trotted into the dugout and accepted one of the bottles from Tucker. “Thanks.”

  Tucker smiled. “Welcome.”

  Dixon nudged Tucker with his elbow. “Still up for tonight?”

  “Oh, yeah. Nothing can keep me away.”

  “Good.” Dixon casually drifted back to the field.

  And this part is getting there as well. He’d been thinking over the past few weeks, probably too much. Spent quite a bit of time analyzing and beating the issue to death. All to no avail. Then, he’d finally decided that Dixon would just be the exception to his straightness. Not a bad choice either. The guy helped him and the rookies by giving up his free time, had become a good friend, and co-conspirator when it came to his pranks. They’d settled into a much more comfortable relationship of friendship. Tucker intended to take it a step further. When the time was right.

  Speaking of….

  He spied Trigger walking over for a drink. Tucker tried to act as nonchalantly as possible even as he checked his pocket for the blue magic coloring stick. Finding it still there, he sat on the bench and watched Trigger out of the corner of his eye.

  Sure enough, Trigger removed his mask, let it drop to the bench, then made his way to the cooler. As he started digging through the ice for his drink of choice, Tucker quickly snagged the unattended mask, rolled the invisible magic paint on, replaced the mask where he found it, and tucked the paint stick in his pocket just as Trigger turned around.

  Tucker held his breath as Trigger slipped the mask back on and returned to the field.

  He grinned casually and checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to see if the prank worked. And to find out if Trigger was going to kill him when it did.

  Banner waved his arm and called an end to practice about thirty minutes later. The guys filed into the dugout, dropping off their equipment as they did so. They all paused to load up on fluids before they’d head to the showers.

  Time for the circus to begin.

  Sure enough, Trigger removed his mask and tossed it down on one end of the bench. He turned back around, giving Tucker a great view of the bright blue lines across his face where the cushions of the mask rested.

  Tucker bit back a laugh.

  Mack glanced from Trigger back to Tucker. He arched an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Tucker prided himself on keeping a straight face.

  Mack snorted. “You do know that he’s going to rip you to pieces, right?”

  “He might try.” And he would. Luckily, Tucker was fairly certain he could outrun the surly grizzly shifter, in either form.

  Graham walked down the steps into the dugout. He’d spent most of the time in the bull pen, perfecting his pitches. Since practice had been called, the pitchers came in with the rest of the team.

  Graham approached Trigger.

  Tucker already knew what would happen. He held his breath and waited for the explosion.

  Graham grinned widely as Trigger bent over to pick up his catcher’s gear that he’d just removed. The erotic spark in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

  Trigger stood up, turned, and faced Graham. He smiled, then sobered as Graham’s smile also faded.

  “What’s that on your face?” Confusion replaced the outright lust in Graham’s expression.

  “What? Sweat? Grime?”

  “More like blue stripes.”

  Trigger blinked before heading back to the locker room. He returned a few seconds later, with fisted hands and long ground-eating strides. His face scrunched in obvious anger. If that wasn’t clue enough, the earth-shaking roar, so reminiscent of his wild cousins, turned everyone’s head.

  “Tucker!”

  “Oh, shit.” Tucker leaped out of the dugout, just avoiding Trigger’s swipe. He quickly transformed into his wild dog self, shook off his uniform, and hit the gas as Trigger changed into his huge grizzly form. Bears might be big, but they had some speed as evidenced by Trigger quickly catching up. Long, bounding strides and those huge paws, complete with lethal claws, made Tucker take notice.

  Tucker quickly revved into another gear and zipped through the outfield, staying just out of reach of the big guy. He glimpsed the rest of the team taking a cue from them. Animals of all shapes and sizes darted around the ballpark. The two bears might outsize the rest of the group but were outnumbered with the various kinds of canines and felines. Some entered in the game of chase. Others sat back on their haunches and watched.

  Good thing the stadium remained empty for practice. Otherwise, the fans might get a bigger show than they expected. Along with a lot more naked flesh when they changed back.

  The ballpark had turned into a wild animal reserve filled with plenty of playful antics. Tucker caught sight of Dixon zinging around, slowed his pace to watch, only to be rolled by a massive bear paw.

  Tucker stopped tumbling when he splatted against the padded outfield wall, pulled himself to a sitting position, and faced Trigger, who was now in his human form. The fact that he was naked didn’t affect Tucker near as much as the promise of pain in Trigger’s eyes.

  Immediately, Tucker shifted and started to talk his way out of the punishment sure to come. “Trigger. It was just a joke. No harm, no foul.” He held up his hands in the age-old sign of peacemaker.

  Trigger grabbed Tucker’s shoulder and smashed him into the center field wall, then held him in place with one large hand to the chest.

  Tucker wasn’t short by any means, but still his legs dangled half a foot from the ground.

  “Trigger. If you rip into him, Banner will fire you,” Graham reminded in a casual, almost bored voice.

  “I’ll just break one finger. No, two. Or three.”

  “Trigger…,” Graham warned with a patient sigh.

  Tucker squirmed to get free, motivated by the promise of snapping bones.

  “What? It’s not like he can’t shift and fix it.” Trigger shoved Tucker back against the far wall again as Tucker managed to gain a couple of inches of breathing room. The padding didn’t protect him from the sharp jolt hardly at all.

  Graham shook his head and sighed. “You know the longer you stand here tormenting Tucker, the less time we have alone. Here I planned on trying out a brand-new fantasy. But, if you’d rather stand around breaking fingers instead….”

  Trigger pursed his lips as if thinking hard. He finally dropped Tucker back to the ground.

  “This better be washable, asswipe.” Trigger growled at Tucker and flashed his fangs.

  “Soap and water. Promise.” Tucker held up his hands in surrender. He managed to get his legs under him and stand up once more.

  “If it isn’t, it’s coming out of your hide.” The warning c
ame with a haughty snort as Trigger walked off, shoulder to shoulder with his mate.

  “Noted,” Tucker hollered to their departing backs.

  Dixon hurried over. “Damn. You’re living on the edge, all right.”

  Tucker grinned mischievously at him. “That was pretty funny, though.”

  “Worth about getting pulverized?”

  “Yep.”

  Dixon shook his head. “You’re such a nut.”

  “Yep,” Tucker agreed.

  The spark in Dixon’s eyes ignited Tucker’s libido. Worries fell away as something clicked into place. He’d been too busy fighting his perception of himself and hadn’t realized a few things. Namely, the way Dixon looked at him. Like he made the whole game of baseball happen and caused the sun to rise each morning in his spare time. As if he were the only man on the earth that counted. No one had ever made Tucker feel the way Dixon did in that moment.

  Tucker’s self-confidence rocketed, as did his need for Dixon, who might still be an enigma, but only he would do.

  Ram said to fight his bisexuality was like trying to separate himself from his inner beast. To do so would tear him apart.

  He’d been right.

  Acceptance brought about a sense of peace and contentment.

  Now, he just had to make Dixon see what he saw. Tucker knew his feelings were reflected in his eyes if only Dixon would notice. Tucker went with his gut and pointed to his chest. “Want to kiss my boo-boos?”

  Dixon blinked at him, then arched an eyebrow. “Do they need kissing?”

  “I think so. Maybe.” Tucker bit his lip and waited. Flirting he could do. With women. Men were a novel experience, and he only hoped he’d said something right.

  “Well, then. I might be the guy who could help you.” Dixon’s slow smile made Tucker’s heart skip a beat.

  “Anyone else smell lust in the air?” Mack asked loudly.

  “At least we know who’s in heat now,” Ram responded.

  “It can’t be worse than last year,” Wiley added.

  “It better not be,” Milo said.

  Tucker flipped them all off before leaning in and locking his lips over Dixon’s. “Let’s go home.”

  Dixon flashed a wide smile, took Tucker’s hand, and strode toward the dugout. “Want to take a shower first?”

  Tucker groaned. “If we stop for that, someone will be screaming for mind bleach.”

  Dixon laughed. “Good point.”

  “I don’t mind a little honest sweat if you don’t.” Tucker led the way down the steps of the dugout and into the locker room.

  “Not at all. As long as it’s you, I’m happy.”

  The comment made Tucker’s heart kick against his ribs.

  A record-setting thirty minutes later, Tucker closed the door leading from the garage to the kitchen inside Dixon’s house, locking it behind him as Dixon impatiently tugged at Tucker’s shirt. As if unable to wait a second longer, Dixon stripped Tucker down, tossing the clothes aside before undressing himself just as quickly.

  Hunger and fiery desire struck as Tucker raked Dixon’s nude body with his gaze. He couldn’t look away, too entranced with the marvel right in front of him. “Gorgeous.”

  Dixon grinned lopsided. “Nothing compared to you.”

  The dam burst. Tucker moaned, bracketed Dixon’s face, and pulled him in closer for a thorough tasting. He explored and delved, finding nothing as perfect as the taste of Dixon on his tongue.

  His pulse picked up speed, as did his breathing. The scent of arousal in the air lashed him into greater frenzy. “I need you. Now.” He punctuated his wishes with bold caresses over Dixon’s torso and abs. Too impatient to tease, he stroked the warm skin, letting his hands roam anywhere he could reach.

  “Are you sure?”

  The slight hesitation in Dixon’s voice made Tucker pause, but only for a second. “Absolutely. Take me. Fuck me. Mount up and screw me.”

  Dixon growled and nipped at Tucker’s chin.

  The command seemed to bring out a more aggressive side to Dixon. Tucker didn’t mind, not in the least. In fact, he reveled in the realization that he tested Dixon’s control with just a few words. He’d only been like this once before—the first time he and Dixon were together. Desperate. Needy. On the verge of begging for a sample of Dixon’s cock.

  “Bedroom.”

  Tucker shook his head as he wrapped his fingers around Dixon’s shaft. “I can’t wait that long. Right here.” He didn’t need sweetness or romance. He needed fucked.

  “Bend over the couch. Ass in the air.” Dixon’s gravelly voice spoke of tightly leashed passion about to explode.

  Tucker wanted Dixon balls-deep in his ass when it happened.

  He strode over to the back of the couch, bent over, and rested his forearms on it. “Now what?”

  “Lube. Don’t move.” Dixon hurried down the hall to the bedroom, his jutting erection bouncing the entire way.

  Tucker grinned at the sight, knowing he’d never tire of that particular image. Nor of Dixon’s powerful rear as each step caused the muscles to snap.

  A moment later, Dixon returned, already rubbing the slippery substance over his big cock. He also carried a washrag.

  Absently, Tucker realized that Dixon had taken a moment to wash his hands and face. Probably a good idea considering how dirty they’d gotten during practice.

  Dixon passed the warm washcloth to Tucker who immediately wiped down briefly as Dixon stopped behind him. He trailed his fingers along Tucker’s crack, then dipped inside.

  Tucker jerked at the sudden invasion. The cloth dropped from his fingers and to the floor. A small burn accompanied the addition of two fingers, but quickly dissipated as Dixon pressed inward and downward, bumping his hot spot.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Spread,” Dixon ordered.

  Without question, Tucker did as bidden. Dixon rewarded him with a deeper penetration. Dixon cupped Tucker’s balls, weighing and rolling them, sending a quake through Tucker. At the same time, he slipped another digit inside.

  Full, Tucker lowered his upper body and bowed his back. He wiggled as Dixon finger-fucked him at a sedate pace. Too slow and too gentle. “Now. Dixon. Fuck me. Now.” He groaned as Dixon lightly smacked his right cheek. The tiny sting whetted his desire even more.

  Dixon removed his fingers. A split second later, Tucker felt the tip of Dixon’s cock kissing his hole. He barely had time to brace himself before Dixon thrust hard, pushing in deep.

  Tucker gripped the couch, holding on tight, as sharp pain accompanied the penetration. He jumped, sucked in air, let out a grunt, then rested his forehead on the material.

  “Okay?” Dixon paused and rubbed his hand over Tucker’s back. The other slipped underneath to strum Tucker’s cock.

  The sensations merged into a spicy mix of heady pleasure. Tucker lifted back up, arched his back, and peered underneath to glimpse Dixon rubbing his cock. Passion fired on all cylinders once again.

  “Yeah. Now get to work.”

  Dixon chuckled. “Topping from the bottom. How did I know that would be the case again?”

  Tucker appreciated the humor but was too focused on Dixon’s cock buried in his ass to think of a retort. Instead, he moaned and pressed back to meet Dixon’s next thrust.

  The pace went from cautious to frantic in a matter of a couple of minutes. Dixon released Tucker’s dick and grasped onto his hips instead. For leverage or power, Tucker didn’t know or care. He missed the touch, but Dixon made up for it in technique and fast jabs.

  Grunts and moans filled the room. Restless with need, Tucker absorbed the strokes, gyrated his hips, and sought a way to slow his rocketing journey to the pinnacle. It wasn’t happening, not with Dixon powering in and out.

  Their bodies slapped together in a rapid rhythm. Over and over, Dixon surged, nudging Tucker ever so close to release.

  A low growl and Dixon’s chest covering his back warned Tucker a split second before Dixon’s teeth bit down into
the flesh on his shoulder.

  Tucker howled at the sting that shot him right over the edge. He jerked as pulse after pulse of rapture raced through his body. All the while, Dixon held him tight—with his hand, his stance, and his bite.

  Mate.

  The single word from his inner beast sealed the deal in Tucker’s eyes. “Mine.” He didn’t realize he’d spoken the word out loud until Dixon growled low in his throat.

  Dixon removed his fangs and licked the area, tender where he’d been rough before. “All mine.”

  The words of ownership put a smile back on Tucker’s face. He soaked up the moment, remaining still as Dixon’s swollen knot held them together.

  Time meant nothing in that moment. Nothing except the glorious sensations that continued to sweep through Tucker until his breathing finally returned to normal.

  Dixon released him and pulled out after the gland had returned to its usual size. A feeling of emptiness followed.

  “Wow.” Tucker stood up, working the kinks out of his back.

  Dixon seemed unable to stop petting Tucker. He ran his hands over Tucker’s body and peppered kisses across his face. “You liked?”

  “Uh-huh.” Tucker reached down to lightly trace his fingers over Dixon’s partially erect cock. “Talk about fast recovery time.”

  Dixon grinned wickedly. “I was always an overachiever.” He inclined his head toward the bedroom. “Up for another round?”

  Tucker’s horniness surged back to the forefront. “Nothing could stop me.” He took Dixon’s hand and walked beside him all the way, a true smile on his face.

  He’d finally found what he’d been searching for all these years. Love.

  Just as he opened his mouth to share his feelings, Dixon took advantage, pushing his tongue inside.

  First things first. I’ll just have to tell him later.

  Tucker filed that promise away and gave himself over to the mind-blowing kiss.

  Chapter 16

  SUNLIGHT STREAMING in the window woke Tucker. Momentary confusion had him frowning before his nose picked up a familiar scent—Dixon.