Bat Boy (Easton U Pirates 1)

Out of nowhere, my chest got all tight, my groin too, and I felt a line of electric heat skim across my balls. I tried like hell to think of anything else, like killer bees stinging my dick until it fell off, but it was impossible. Not with Kellan’s body plastered against mine and his smell surrounding me on all sides like some aphrodisiac. I swore if Kellan moved one more muscle, everything inside me would detonate.

And then it happened. Kellan made some adorable noise again in his sleep as he readjusted his knee, my balls ignited, and I…fucking came in my underwear. I held in a groan as my bones melted into the mattress and my brain short-circuited. I couldn’t move for a long minute, and my breathing was all heavy and creepy, and holy fucking shit. What just happened?

I had to get the hell out of there before I embarrassed myself even further. I slowly extracted myself from him, grabbed my pillow, and padded out the door without waking him.

Thankfully, Hollister wasn’t back in our room yet, but maintenance had definitely finished in the bathroom because everything seemed back in order. I jumped in the shower to clean the stickiness off me, then lay back down to wait for game time.

8

Kellan

I sat up in a cold bed alone, unsure what to make of last night. Donovan had been spooning me as if it came to him naturally, though he seemed so innocent about it, I had to wonder if it had ever happened before with another guy. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but I also suspected he’d fled the room this morning because he’d come to his senses. It reminded me of a certain other situation I didn’t let myself think about anymore.

But it brought me back to the same question. What was a straight guy doing curling up to the bat boy on his team? And yet, it happened. He was sweet and cuddly, his voice all sleepy, and I liked the feel of his arm around me. Which was so very dangerous. I needed to stop obsessing over it and get my ass in the shower, because it didn’t mean anything at all. Nope. Except that he was cold last night.

As I reached for a towel hanging in the bathroom, I thought about how nice it was to watch a movie with him and talk about all kinds of things, so maybe in the off-season we could actually be friends and hang out sometimes.

Would Dad have anything to say about it then? Okay, I was jumping ahead of myself. More than likely, I wouldn’t have any contact with these guys after regionals, until the next season began revving up with practices and the annual banquet. I felt a spot of melancholy about it as I hopped out of the shower, dressed, and headed for the lobby. Possibly because baseball had consumed my life the past several months, and even if I wasn’t best friends with these guys, I still saw them enough that I felt part of something. And that wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to, the whole team concept. Even if dealing with their different personalities could be a drag sometimes, games and practices were definitely something I looked forward to.

Donovan barely looked at me as the team circled around my dad, but his cheeks were bright pink, so my suspicions were probably right. He didn’t sit with me on the bus to the game, which was only about a ten-minute ride, but I heard him and Hollister talking about their plumbing problem. Thankfully, nobody asked where Donovan had slept last night, but I’d definitely be curious about his answer. Would he admit he’d knocked on my door and we’d slept in the same bed? Fuck, I hoped not. I didn’t need that kind of attention. Or a lecture from my dad. But I did notice Hollister glancing briefly in my direction and had to wonder if he’d figured it out.

Goddamn it, Donovan. Why did you have to complicate things?

It was easier to ignore the topic entirely at the field, especially since we were losing and there were a lot of bats and mitts being thrown around that I needed to retrieve without causing any more strife. This time the fault didn’t lie with the pitchers. The team wasn’t batting well today, at all. Every inning was three and out with very few guys making it on base, let alone getting RBIs. Dad was going to have quite a talk with them afterward.

When they rallied by the end of the seventh inning, I thought we might pull out a win. But we lost by one run, which somehow felt even worse.

The bus ride home was understandably quiet, and this time I sat in one of the front seats behind my dad since he wanted to talk to me about the upcoming week’s schedule. When my phone buzzed, I saw it was a text from Donovan, who was sitting a few rows behind me.