Troy closes the door and pushes me against it, light filtering in through one dirty window. He takes a deep inhale at my neck and drags his palm up my crotch. “I know.” He clicks the lock on the door. “It’s hot.”
“Oh.” I grin and thrust my erection against his hand, meeting his body in a tight embrace. I stroke Troy’s scratchy beard, enjoying the smolder in his eyes. “That’s what this is about.”
“Realized the season was almost over,” he growls against my ear, “and we still haven’t inaugurated the fields.”
I chuckle, loving when he’s the one to initiate something like this. “You’re right. What are we waiting for?” I reach back and grab his rear, giving his meaty ass a good grope. “I want to fuck the man who made that amazing catch in the seventh inning.”
Troy growls his approval. “Just take it slow,” he says. “You know it’s been a while.”
I turn him and push him against the locker, taking charge. “Nice and slow,” I agree as I drag my finger up his crack. “So slow I’m going to make you beg for it.”
It’s not often that I top Troy, so I always make sure to make it memorable. The second he decides that’s what he wants, though, he becomes a hungry bottom, shoving his ass at me and groaning demands for more.
I drag my hand across his neck, my other groping his cock in a firm grip. I’ve got Troy’s baseball pants and boxer briefs down to his knees, and I take my cock in my hand and rub it against his ass.
He slams his palm against the lockers, his body convulsive, shaking with power but bending to my touch, too.
I take charge. Whispering encouragements in his ear, I bend Troy, lube up my fingers with spit, and go to work rubbing his rim. He manages to hand me back a small packet of lube, and slicked up, I ease into his tight hole, stretching him.
Forget keeping the noise down. When my cock slides in, Troy practically roars. I laugh and place my hand over his mouth, pulling him back. Troy thrusts his ass, his strong thighs clenched as he takes my dick deeper, and it’s ecstasy.
The lockers shake and jangle. I drive into Troy over and over, but it just makes him want it harder. When he takes his cock in his fist, I grab his wrist and pull him back, fucking him deeper.
“Like this,” I encourage him, pounding my rod against his spot as he quakes apart. “Give it to me just like this.”
“Fucking love you,” he growls, and we’re slamming our bodies together again. I’m working his spot, and Troy’s hard dick slaps against his abs over and over, leaking.
When we come, we’re both falling apart. He sucks my hand into his mouth, practically gnawing on me, and I huff his armpit, breathing him in like a drug.
We finish catching our breath, and Troy hitches his pants up. “Here,” he says, pulling some wet wipes from his pocket. “I thought ahead.”
I grin. My face is flushed and I’m still tingling with the orgasm, but I manage to take the wipe. “Thanks. And thanks again for the surprise.”
“Can’t only fuck you in our bed. You might start to get bored.”
“Trust me. I’m nowhere near bored.”
We clean up and make our way to the bar, where the other players are gathered with partners and friends of the team. There’s a nice social scene around the league, and I can tell it gives some of the players a thrill to have a couple of pros like me and Troy around. At first I was just excited about how good the scene was for Troy, but I’ve realized it’s pretty nice for me, too.
The Force is back to CONCACAF this year, which means we have a serious chance of making it to the World Cup next year. My career is intense, and Troy’s agency has only become more successful.
But the recreational league is a different speed, and we’ve made some good friends through it. These weekly games help us to slow down, just like our choice to keep our regular Sunday date nights on the calendar.
Although home is a much better venue than a hotel these days.
We get back late. Troy’s happy and a little tipsy, and it’s putting me in a funny mood, too. We end up joking around in the kitchen while I make us a late-night snack of grilled cheese, and then I drag him into the bedroom.
We’ve kept things minimal in here. Troy just shoved some of his clothes aside to make room for mine, but otherwise, the bedroom is just like he had it. The lack of distractions is actually really good for me, I realized, especially when I’m trying to sleep.
And Troy gave me a room to essentially turn into my chaos room, anyway, filled up with sports equipment, screens, and marker boards for me to draw plays on.
But here is our sanctuary. Here in the bedroom, it’s just me and Troy, together.
We crawl onto the bed. I help him pull his brace off his knee, and we cuddle up close.
“When are you taking off for the World Series?” I ask.
“Not until next week, when your team travels.”
