Rating: NC-17 PWP
Original Date Of Completion: March 2005
Pairing: Nate Robertson/Omar Infante
Disclaimer: I own no one, though I wish I did. This is fiction, conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. That means it's fake, and you can't sue me.
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The worst part of any athlete's life, ignoring injuries and important stuff like that, is posing for pictures. No matter what you do, they just do not turn out. Your smile looks too cheesy, your face is too shiny, they put you in some stupid pose, there's always something. I guess we baseball players should be glad that we get to have our hats on, so at least we don't have to worry about hair like other sports. But really, losing that one worry means nothing when you have to worry about your dick showing through your uniform.
There aren't many guys in the game, at least on our team, that don't wish they took the Photo Day pictures from the waist up. I'm usually right there wishing for that with the rest, but today I'm rethinking my stance. But that's only because it's not MY bat showing, it's somebody else's, and that automatically makes it amusing. For me, at least, since in this case, I'm pretty much the cause.
"Nice picture today, Omar," I said teasingly as I walked into the lockerroom, dropping the photo in front of him.
He ignored it, keeping his eyes on me and glaring. "Your fault," He grumbled, pointing accusingly at me.
I gasped mockingly. "ME? *I* didn't give you one that big,"
He blushed faintly, muttering a curse in Spanish and dropping his eyes to the floor. "You. . . got me. . . started," He mumbled in broken English, glancing up to glare at me.
"Okay. Maybe," I said with a grin, shrugging. "But it was your own fault for letting me,"
"Was . . . NOT!" He sputtered, his glare worsening as he frowned at me. "You . . . started. KNOWING we . . . could not . . . finish!"
I roared in laughter, nodding with an evil grin. He was right, that had been my exact plan. I'd known how long he'd had until his turn when I'd approached him, and I knew it wasn't enough time to finish anything. I'd really just wanted to see if he'd let me, he wasn't too big on doing anything outside of our bedroom. Once he went for it, I figured I'd might as well keep going, and see if the results could be captured on film. Does that make me evil?
Okay, yeah, it kind of does. But I have no problems with that. Depending on whom you ask, what I was doing BEFORE the picture was mighty evil in its own right, so what's a little more?
"You"re right," I admitted once my laughter ceased. "I started knowing I couldn't finish,"
I paused purposely, giving him time for reaction, which came in the form of a punch to my thigh and more curses in Spanish. I just grinned in response, then leaned close to him. I knew he wasn't all that bothered by any of this to begin with, but I planned to make it up to him anyway. I just wanted to watch him glare and grumble for a bit first, he's so damn cute like that. I always finished what I started, made up for the bad I did, etc. etc. I definitely had to make up for that picture, and fortunately for us both, that could go right until the finishing what I started. Two birds, one stone, go team me.
"But," I whispered against his ear, making sure my breath beat against his skin. "There's nothing to stop me from finishing NOW..."
At the finish of my statement, I licked over his earlobe, eliciting a soft shiver from him for my efforts. He turned to look at me, grinning faintly as he nodded his head. It wasn't a surprise reaction by any means, get him worked up enough and so much as touch his ear with a fingertip, and he'd agree to anything. It was a shock, however, when he got to his feet, and moved to stand in front of me.
"Nothing to . . . stop you," He said softly, grinning wickedly as his hands slipped to his waist.
My eyes widened as he unbuckled his belt, watching his hands intently as they worked quickly to unbutton, then unzip his pants. Above me I could hear him snickering, but my attention was focused very much elsewhere. This was so unlike him, I wasn't quite sure what to expect, but I wasn't about to object to anything he had planned. So I just kept my eyes on his hands, watching in anticipation as he tucked his thumbs into his briefs, then slowly, teasingly worked them down.
I swallowed hard as his dick popped free, already hard with a drop of precum glistening at the head. There were few sights in the world I enjoyed more than that, but I'd be lying if I said I would've been content to just stare. I had to have more, I craved it; it was impossible to see that, to watch his dick throb and jerk beneath my gaze, and keep my hands (or anything else) to myself. Fortunately he agreed with me on that, as he threaded a hand into my hair, and slowly guided me onto his dick.
I moaned faintly in response, sucking eagerly as I bobbed my head up, trying to take more of him. He snickered softly at that display, clenching his hand in my hair to hold me still and pressing forward even slower. I groaned in frustration around him, but he could've cared less, moving forward at that same slow pace until he reached the hilt. His head fell back on a deep moan, and I swallowed rapidly around him, licking over the underside as best I could. He cursed faintly in Spanish, words too soft for me to understand, and gently he began to thrust.
He moved slowly, but deep, pulling out to the head each time. I licked over it as much as he allowed, splaying my tongue along the underside, sucking hard when his thrusts resumed. He moaned and whimpered from that, his hand still tight in my hair, guiding me just slightly to meet him. I was more than happy to let him control things, moaning encouragingly and making no efforts to move on my own. That seemed to satisfy him just plenty, as his thrusts soon became faster, his grip tightening in my hair as he moved. I sucked harder still, licking rapidly over the underside, swallowing around him for the brief seconds he stayed deep. It was that which finally pushed him over the edge, and he thrust deep as he came, moaning hoarsely and clenching his hand tight in my hair.
I swallowed eagerly, of course, moaning softly around him, and slipping my hands up to squeeze his hips. He panted heavily, staying deep until he began to soften, then slowly pulling back. He whimpered softly from that feeling, muttering the word "sensitive" in Spanish. That was one of the first words I'd learned from him, because I'd learned in the beginning how sensitive he got once he'd finished. And since I was already rather evil today, I decided to make use of that knowledge; leaning up, I flicked my tongue against the head, then glanced up at him with a sweet smile. He cried out softly, jerking away slightly and flashing another glare down at me. I had to giggle at him this time, which only served to increase his glare, coupled this time with a shake of the head as he sat down beside me.
"You . . . are . . . bad man," He muttered, pulling his pants back up.
I grinned, nodding my head. "Yeah, I am," I said in agreement, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But I always finish what I start."
He laughed softly, nodding a bit with a smile. "Yes, you do," His smile turned wicked, and he leaned over to whisper in my ear. "But it...was not...enough...to make up...for picture,"
"No?" I asked with a grin, arching my eyebrow. "How do I go about doing that?"
He stood up, then bent down to kiss me quickly, whispering against my lips. "Meet me . . . in . . . dugout . . . to see."
He smirked, then turned and walked out, his pants still unbuttoned, his belt jangling as he strutted. I watched him until he was gone from my sight, then hopped up to run after him. I'd apparently worked him up a hell of a lot more than I'd anticipated, but I definitely wasn't complaining. Two birds with one stone might've been easier, but in this case, I was thinking I'd like the hard work. Perhaps pictures weren't so bad after all. I'd just have to remember to do the same thing next year.
END.
© 2005 Triple X
