Hitting Streak Read online

  Hitting Streak

  Julia Talbot

  "Hey, Jose. Would you maybe like to go to a baseball game with me?"

  The voice belonged to the new guy, Dave. He had a nice voice, Jose thought, smooth as really good tequila, friendly and deep. And obviously clueless.

  "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Dave."

  "Oh." Jose pretty much felt the shape of the air as Dave moved back, crossed his arms. "Sorry, dude. It's just the guys said you listened to the games on the radio all the time, so I thought..."

  The rest of the guys in the office could be damned cruel sometimes. Jose worked not to let the hit show. "I listen to them because I can't watch them, Dave. I'm legally blind."

  "Fuck, man. I didn't even know. You do really well."

  Yeah, he did really well. He'd done better before he took a line drive to the bridge of his nose. Two-time college All-American, minor league fast mover with the Greenville Braves, and now, washed up, blind has-been. All before age thirty.

  "Well, now you know."

  "You used to play, didn't you?"

  "How can you tell?"

  "Because you have that look. Hungry. I know it well, man."

  He turned his face toward Dave, just sort of listening, straining for a clue. "You do?"

  "Sure. I was a star football player in high school. My first year in college? Blew out my knee. I mean like catastrophic. No more pro-ball dreams for me."

  It came out so matter of fact, so cheerful, that for a minute Jose thought Dave must be lying through his teeth. Then he got a grip. Why would Dave lie?

  "Yeah. Well, anyway, thanks for the offer, but no."

  "Hey, it's not like we can't still do something. There's a Braves game on tonight, right? I'll bring supper; we can listen to it together."

  God, he shouldn't. But that voice really got him. Jose shrugged. "Yeah, okay. Sure. As long as you bring Mexican food."

  A low chuckle sent tingles right up Jose's spine. "You're not going to believe my green chile chicken enchiladas. What time should I be there?"

  "Six? First pitch is as six-thirty." Somewhere he had little cards with his home address. Jose fumbled with his wallet, feeling for the raised script that ... ah ha. "Here. This is my place."

  "Great." Warm and rough, Dave's fingers brushed over his, so lightly he almost missed it. "I'll look forward to it."

  The subtle hint of Dave's cologne still lingering in his nose, Jose went back to work. Grinning. He might just look forward to it too.

  No pun intended.

  * * * *

  "That's strike two for Jones, who's been plagued by injuries this year. Good to see him looking healthy. He's only batting .248, but he's struggling back, with three hits in his last five at bats."

  It was the fifth inning, the Braves were ahead two to four, and supper had been incredible. Whether Dave made the enchiladas or bought them, they were superb. All in all, Jose was a happy man.

  He sprawled on the couch, with Dave in the big chair across from him, feet on his coffee table. That was okay, as Jose had his feet up there, too, every so often tapping Dave with his toes or his ankle.

  Flirting.

  Man, it had been like years since he'd flirted this hard.

  That had the game going on the TV, not the radio, so Dave could watch, which actually worked, because Dave was good at the play-by-play. Maybe not as good as Skip Carey, but he filled in all the things that Jose couldn't see, including the way the current batter dug at his crotch.

  "Okay, I've never understood that, man. You were a player. Tell me why they do that."

  He kicked Dave's foot lightly. "You played football, right. That cup is damned uncomfortable."

  "Dude. In football we have so much padding and shit we can hardly feel the cup."

  "Oh."

  "Strike three and that retires the side. We'll go to commercial now, but stick with us as the Cardinals come up to bat in the bottom of the inning."

  The sound jacked up at least two notches as a beer commercial came on and Jose smacked the remote, muting the damned thing. "I hate that. It's jarring, you know?"

  "Sure."

  Jose tilted his head, searching for something to fill the lull, settling on, "You know, I don't even know what you look like."

  Silence reigned for a moment, before Dave drew in a breath. "So what, you want to feel my face or something?"

  "No. You're a good play-by-play man. Give it to me. Head to toes." Somehow it seemed important now, when it hadn't before.

  "Okay. Uh. I'm six-one. Just over one-ninety. I kinda don't have a neck."

  Chuckling, Jose shifted, letting his toes run down the underside of Dave's foot. "Neanderthal, huh? Do you have two eyebrows?"

  "Asshole." Dave's laughter flowed as sweet and smooth as his voice. Like a great chaser to a shot of Gold. "Yeah. They're brown. Like my hair. Light brown. I have blue eyes, a killer smile, and the most annoying chin. It's like, pointy."

  "That's nice. Get to the good stuff."

  Laughing harder, Dave moved, feet hitting the floor audibly. The other side of the couch sagged, the warmth of Dave's body palpable, even three feet away.

  "The good stuff, huh? C'mere." Cautiously, slowly, Jose went, hands out in front of him to feel his way. The forgotten remote dangled from his fingers and Dave took it, setting it on the table with a thump. "Here. My shoulders are still nice and wide."

  His hands moved as Dave urged them to, settling on wide, heavy shoulders. Definitely football shoulders, ever without the pads. He tested the muscles under Dave's shirt, digging his short nails in a little. Nice. The pecs next, he thought, sliding his hands down to test them, feeling Dave's little nipples rise under his palms, even through the cloth.

  "If you want I can take my shirt off."

  Did he want? Jose breathed deep, smelling cologne and a hint of sweat, along with a deep, male scent that actually had his mouth watering. "Yeah," he said. "Off."

  The shirt slid up under his fingers, exposing skin by degrees. Smooth, hot, dusted with hair, Dave's chest was a sculptured work of art. Who needed baseball players with lean torsos or weirdly bulked steroid boys?

  "You stay in shape."

  Dave pushed at one of his hands until it reached denim, the waistband of Dave's jeans stiff under his fingertips. "I swim. I lift. I still like sports."

  "Uh huh." Jose got a little distracted by the shape and size of Dave's cock under the tight jeans, the ridge of the zipper bending with the force of Dave's hard-on. He stroked aimlessly with his other hand, from nipple to nipple and down the trail of hair, the texture of which changed from rough to silky as he moved lower and lower.

  The muscles under his touch flexed, Dave's jeans pulling away from his skin so Jose could slip his fingers between. No underwear. Oh, hell yes.

  "Want the rest of the good stuff, Jose?"

  "Are you crazy? Of course I do."

  "Let me..." The zipper rasped loudly, almost covering the sound of a very relieved sigh. Almost. Dave's cock pushed up into his hand, hard, uncut, nice and thick, crowned by a heavy bush of curls. The smell intoxicated him.

  "You're damned pretty, Dave," he said, giving an experimental stroke.

  "Yeah? I pass, huh? Does this mean I get to see you?"

  Squashing the pang of uncertainty, Jose nodded, let Dave unbutton his shirt and slide it off, letting go of his prize for maybe two seconds. He knew he was in good shape, he kept himself that way on the treadmill and the weight machines, but it was still, well, he hadn't seen himself in so long.

  "Pants, too, man. I want to see what you home run hitters keep in that cup you have to adjust all the time."

  Without a word he undid his Dockers and pushed them down off his legs, lifting his hips to get them under his ass. Before he could even blink, Dave was touching him, hard palm cradling his cock.

  "Oh, man. Jesus, Jose. Fucking hot."

  "Hot enough to let me fuck you?" The words came out of left field, but Jose meant them. He'd never know Dave better than if he felt him from the inside out.

  Every muscle in Dave's body went still. Jose felt his pulse speed up, though, the big vein on the underside of Dave's cock throbbing. "Yeah. As long as you've got something. I didn't want to jinx it by carrying."

  He laughed. "Yeah. Yeah, I've got some in the bathroom. Let me just..."

  "Sure."

  Okay, it felt weird as hell walking out of the room naked, three steps past the coffee table, turn right, eight steps to the hall. His cock bobbed in front of him. He got the condoms and the little tube of lube and turned back, running right into a wide, fuzzy chest.

  "Sorry, man. I couldn't wait. You have the sweetest ass." Dave cupped his ass like he was proving it, fingers digging into the muscles. "Talk about staying in shape."

  "My treadmill's on an incline." Jose felt vulnerable as hell, hanging out in space, not quite sure where he was and nothing to hold on to but Dave's shoulders. "Could we go lie down?"

  "Oh, yeah. Do I put your hand like this?" Like this had his fingers tucked into the crook of Dave's arm, letting him do the holding.

  "Yeah. That works. It's to the left. The last door."

  The bedroom was always brighter than the little cave of a living room. Jose still saw light and shadow and now he could see Dave's outline. He found the bed, sitting on it, holding out his hand, drawing Dave to stand between his legs.

  "I wish I could see you."

  "Me too. But I get to see you." He jumped as Dave stroked his cock, the touch sending his pulse racing again. "
And taste you."

  He felt Dave move, slide, and before he could so more than gasp, Dave knelt in front of him and took his cock in, mouth sliding down over him in one smooth motion, all the way down. Well, not all the way. He had that much to be proud of. Lips and tongue wet and hot and sealing tight, Dave really gave it to him, licking and sucking and slurping.

  Fuck. Oh, fuck, it had been too long.

  "No," he snapped, tugging at Dave's short hair. "I want to fuck you, remember."

  "Uh huh. I was just greedy."

  Muscles surged against his legs as Dave stood, pushing him back on the bed, big hands skating over Jose's chest and belly. Dave stroked his cock again just for good measure before gently, carefully cupping his balls. He spread like a whore, grunting, digging his heels in and pushing up.

  "Come on, Dave."

  The crinkle of rubber opening had him sighing happily and Dave covered him, slicked him up and crawled on top of him, thick thighs on either side of his. That sweet ass fit into his hands like it was made for them, tight, hard, just a little hairy. He spread Dave's cheeks, poked at the tight hole.

  "Let me..." Something slid against his cock, Dave's fingers, sliding in before he could push it, getting that little hole open and wet for him and he could feel every move. It was the hottest fucking thing in the world. "Okay. Okay, Jose, come on!"

  Home run, baby. Punching up with his hips, Jose crossed the plate, his cock sliding right in, Dave moaning for him, deep and low. Those big hands braced on his chest as Dave started to rise and fall, pulling up until he almost slipped out before slamming back down.

  Since he couldn't see, he touched, every straining muscle and bead of sweat telling him a story until he got to Dave's face, tracing the grimace of pleasure, feeling Dave's lips close around his fingers just like they had around his cock.

  Jose lost it, bucking, shouting, hips driving harder and harder until he couldn't hold it anymore. He let it fly, filling the condom up Dave's ass. Dave lasted a few beats longer, a few hard strokes of Dave's cock bringing him right along so his ass clamped down on Jose, making his eyes roll.

  Some things a man didn't need to see. Dave's harsh, strangled shout told him all he needed to know.

  * * * *

  "Hey, Jose. Wanna go to a ball game with me tonight?"

  "The Braves are out of town, man." Jose grinned, reaching out to stroke the inside of Dave's thigh, which was exactly where he thought it would be, perched on the corner of his desk.

  "I know. I have something different in mind. Have you ever heard of beeper baseball?"

  His heart kicked up. Yeah, he'd heard, just never had the guts to go by himself and play with a bunch of other blind guys. "You gonna sponsor me?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, man, I want to see you play. And I figure after..."

  "After? I can raise my batting average with you."

  Dave laughed, reaching out to take his hand. This time, Jose knew he felt it. They had nothing to hide these days.

  "Count on it, man," Dave replied. "With me, you always knock it out of the park."

 

 

  Julia Talbot, Hitting Streak

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