XXX CHAPTER 5 XXX
ɸ69fanatic: #whatiloveaboutbaseball Perfection is elusive but attainable.
The tweet went out the next morning with no preamble, no explanation, and no announcement that it was for Emmett. An hour later, over eighteen hundred of 69er's followers had retweeted, many using the hashtag #MacPerfect. Had Edward intentionally invoked perfection to keep Emmett in the spotlight? Emmett would never know, but he had to admit to a certain gratified tingle at the continuing support for his cause. And if he were honest with himself, a tingle of an entirely different sort for his new . . . friend?
This was odd, to say the least. Emmett was having trouble putting a label on this . . . thing with Edward, and god knows, he'd been trying. Locked inside the very quirky rules of the Twitterverse they'd both voluntarily submitted to, their exchanges were limited not just by character counts, but by the restrictions that were part and parcel to any online interaction. Whereas Edward was privy to whatever was in the public domain about Emmett McCarty, Emmett knew only what Edward shared with him. So far, Emmett had gathered a first name, an occupation, a sense of the man's passion for the game of baseball, and a strong suspicion that he was gay.
And yet, even with the "black boxes" obscuring what normally would be significant details—a face, for example—Emmett couldn't remember the last time he felt so himself. Well, himself but careful, because they weren't exactly there yet, but Emmett was fairly certain that a face-to-face meeting with Edward would eventually lead to the spillage of his big, fat secret.
Part of him couldn't fucking wait—the part that scared the ever-loving shit out of him.
Emmett needed to clear his head before favoriting or retweeting or messaging, so he laced up his running shoes, settled the newest Oakley radar pitch shades into place because it made his agent ridiculously happy—and rich—and popped in his earbuds. Alki Beach was a bustling place on a Monday morning. With the ballpark nearby, the beach was a popular spot for the players to run, and the locals were cool about ignoring him beyond a smile or a wave, which he cheerfully returned.
His route was largely the same every day, so concentration was not required. Good thing, since Emmett's mind was a million miles away, lost somewhere in the vast oblivion of cyberspace, replaying their conversations, imagining how the words on the screen might sound in Edward's voice; coloring in a face where the mental canvas was blank; painting a set of blue eyes—no, cat's-eye green would be so much more exciting—a regal nose, and a pair of soft, fleshy lips. All the better to kiss you with, my dear. And while he was at it, a nice rosy blush. Damn.
As the endorphins kicked in, Emmett's musings entered more daring territory—uncovering the treasures hidden beneath the jersey, breathing life into the two-dimensional plane. Sturdy shoulders tapering to a slim waist. A pair of nice arms ending in hands that formed the Vulcan greeting and filled in scorecards at ball games and wrote formulas on whiteboards, hands that groped and touched and pleased. A lean build, solid but not crazy-ripped because—let's be real—Edward was a math teacher after all. Tight, pink nipples that stood up when excited, a smattering of chest hair, and a juicy "V" pointing toward the goods, a feast of shapes and textures to explore.
Emmett didn't allow himself to venture below the belt; that would've created a situation he just didn't need to deal with while running. The kiss and the nipples were trouble enough.
Slowing as he approached the front door of his building, Emmett pulled out his ear buds and bent forward to catch his breath. Stopping the "hard run" playlist on his phone, he realized he couldn't remember a single song, if he'd even heard one at all.
As soon as he entered his condo, Emmett stripped off his soaked clothes. He stepped into the shower and closed his eyes as the hot water pulsed over the layer of sweat coating his skin. He lifted his face to the showerhead and groaned into the oncoming spray, his frustration booming off the tile walls.
Free to explore what he'd deliberately avoided outside, Emmett filled in the brush strokes below the waist. Long legs to match the torso, a tight little bubble butt to provide hours of amusement, and in the front . . . That was like the sun. You couldn't look directly at it without going blind.
That's where the fantasies came in, and Edward's locker room request turned out to be an inspired portal. Sweaty athletes shucking off uniforms, pairing off in twos and threes, warming up with some deep kissing. Soon, Emmett was playing out a full-blown porno scene with his devoted follower walking in on the horny, naked teammates, sprawled across wooden benches, taking turns sucking and fucking each other's brains out.
Emmett lathered the shower gel along his arms and chest, imagining himself at the center of the compulsory group shower scene. Hot, slick, hard bodies tucked in front and behind him, a vertical heap of writhing sex. The newbie watched from a distance, licking his lips and reaching inside his jeans to free his erection, losing himself in the dreams coming to life before his eyes. Emmett smiled and beckoned him into the shower; the beautiful man tossed away his clothes, sank to his knees at Emmett's feet, and swallowed down his cock. Emmett grasped his groupie's hair while thrusting into his perfect, eager mouth. Deep grunts filled the chamber, setting off a tidal wave of orgasms. Emmett dropped back against the cool tiles and came hard and fast.
Weak and woozy from the hot water and the orgasm that barreled through him like a freight train, Emmett stumbled out of the shower and into his bedroom. He pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans and dug to the bottom of the drawer for his soft, gray UCLA t-shirt. The Mariners franchise "strongly suggested" wearing logo items whenever possible, but Emmett was in a Smiley Joe kind of mood. The bright orange bruin face and goofy smile never failed to boost his spirits.
It's not that Emmett was melancholy, but he was edgy as hell and quickly running out of options. A long run almost always unjangled his nerves, and if that didn't work, the jackhammer orgasm definitely should've done the trick. Physical release had failed him, and Smiley Joe wasn't getting him over the hump. Emmett sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. He knew what needed to be done, and he also knew who would have to do the honors.
Plunking down into his recliner, he sent his psychiatrist-brother-in-law a text. Can we talk? Soon?
He turned on the TV and scrolled aimlessly through the guide. If Jasper didn't get back to him right away, it usually meant he was with a patient and would check messages at ten minutes before the hour. The minutes dragged on while Emmett tried to plan out what the hell he was going to say.
Come over for dinner tonight. Alice is making your favorite meatloaf.
No offense, Jas, I really need to talk to you alone.
You okay? Want to talk now? I have a few.
Emmett hated that his brother-in-law was now going to worry about him for the next two hours, but nine minutes wasn't enough time to do anything but open the wound. I can wait till noon. Lunch at Duke's- Lake Union?
Sure.
No flack about the short notice? Yeah, Jas was worried.
Ignoring his Twitter feed, Emmett grabbed his book and headed out to the balcony. Coach had suggested The Boys in the Boat during spring training, and Emmett was eager to get past the gruesome training rituals to the Olympic glory. He'd known a bunch of rowers at UCLA, had heard a few of their horror stories, but nothing this extreme. He supposed baseballers had it easy compared to rowers or maybe that's what Coach wanted them to believe. Emmett's mind strayed away from the page more times than he could count, but each time, he reread the paragraph and pressed on. Eleven thirty finally had the grace to arrive, and Emmett hopped in a taxi.
Author's Note: Hope you all enjoyed the survey of Emmett's mental landscape! And hey, I even threw in a book recommendation for your reading pleasure! I do recommend The Boys in the Boat if you're inclined toward a nonfiction. Hmm, what's Jasper going to advise Emmett to do? And also, how the HELL is Emmett going to hold himself together for Edward's locker room visit after THAT? These questions and more will be answered...eventually. MWAH! XXX ~BOH
Last week for voting for your favorite fanfic completed in March, and Benched is among the nominations, along with some other stories you might want to add to your TBR. Fix up this link if you'd like to take a look, and your votes are always most appreciated!
twifanfictionrecs dotcom /2015/04/01/vote-for-your-top-ten-completed-fics-march-2015/