XXX CHAPTER 32 XXX

What surprised Emmett most about pitching the no-hitter was that he was not the least bit surprised. From the moment he took the mound, Emmett was in the zone—relaxed, confident, loose, and in control. Seaver and Rich had the good graces to score two runs in the fourth, so when Emmett threw the last strike in the ninth inning, the game ended with a resounding "Big Mac! Big Mac!" ovation from the crowd and an enthusiastic stampede of his teammates rushing the mound and hoisting Emmett onto their shoulders. Two of the happy fools heaved the contents of a giant cooler into the air, dousing Emmett from the waist down in half-melted ice cubes and frigid water.

The adrenaline burst was a joyous orgasm after a three-hour buildup of rising tension. Emmett rode the exhilarating high as his teammates carted him around the field, giving the fans in each section their own personal viewing of the hero in their midst. The crowd was a blur of waving pennants and giant foam fingers and white-and-teal jerseys, but Emmett had no trouble whatsoever picking out Edward. Waving his cap as if flagging down a rescue helicopter from a deserted island, Edward had a smile so bright, it rivaled the stadium lights.

Emmett grabbed his hat and swirled it madly over his head, hoping Edward would understand the message was for him and him alone. I'm so glad you're here to be a part of this.

By the time the boys delivered Emmett to home plate, a line of reporters had assembled, microphones wielded like gladiators' swords. "When did you know you'd clenched it? Does this make up for being cheated out of the perfect game? How does it feel to join the greats? Were you nervous you'd mess it up?" Emmett answered each question with patience and humor, playing to the adoring crowd and the bank of cameras lined up in front of him.

"What were you and Seaver talking about in the seventh?"

Emmett chuckled, recalling the catcher's visit to the mound after he'd walked Dozier. Rubbing two fingers across his chin, Emmett answered. "I'm sorry. That's privileged information."

"I'm sure you want to go and celebrate with your teammates; let me ask you one final question. Who's your first phone call going to be?"

Anyone tuned into the interview at that moment would have caught the double-dimpled trademark McCarty smile but might not have noticed the hesitation in his voice while he worked out his lie. "My folks, of course. And I think I better be making that one soon."

"Thanks for talking with us, Mac. We'll catch you a little later in the press room. Congratulations again on your big night."

Emmett jogged into the locker room, where his teammates were lined up on both sides of the entrance with champagne bottles in hand. Corks popped; frothy liquid went flying; everyone cheered and slapped him on the back and danced around and made fools of themselves. It was glorious. Coach McClendon stood at the end of the human tunnel with a filled champagne flute in each hand, stretching one out toward Emmett. Lifting his glass, Coach toasted him. "Welcome to history, Big Mac!"

"Cheers!" The guys surrounded him, clinking against Emmett's glass with their full bottles, chugging and pouring the bubbly on each other's heads until they'd emptied every last bottle.

As soon as he was able, Emmett snuck to his locker and grabbed his phone. The texts were flying in faster than he could scroll through them, well wishes from his family and friends. Anyone and everyone who had his cell number had messaged him, but he couldn't focus long enough to locate the one message he really cared about seeing.

Fuck it! He needed to hear Edward's voice. Privacy was a luxury Emmett would not have until after his rubdown, the press conference, and wading through whatever fans were hanging out for autographs at the players' entrance. That was too damn far away.

Leaning inside the three makeshift walls of his locker, Emmett dialed Edward and pressed the phone tight against his ear.

"HEY! Oh my GOD, Emmett! You did it! Damn, I'm so happy for you! I'm jumping out of my skin! What's happening there? How are you feeling? Sorry, your turn now. I'm just so excited for you!"

A rush of warmth flooded Emmett's system. None of this had felt real until he heard Edward reflect it all back to him. In typical Emmett style, he responded to the overwhelming emotions with a quip. "You're not operating a motor vehicle right now, are you?"

"I'm not." Edward sighed. "I hope you won't be upset with me, but I'm standing outside with the rest of the crowd waiting pathetically to get a glimpse of you as you come out of the stadium. Once a groupie, always a groupie."

"Damn, that's sweet. It's gonna be a while, you know."

"Pfft, like I care. This is a huge deal. Where else would I be?"

Emmett lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. "You know I can't really . . . acknowledge you in the crowd . . . not the way I want to, anyway."

"Of course I do. I wasn't expecting anything. I just wanted to be there to share the moment with you."

Tears stung the back of Emmett's eyes. He couldn't find two words to put together to express his gratitude.

"Unless . . ." Edward's voice cut into Emmett's thoughts. "Would you prefer I not be there?"

"No! Of course not. I just feel bad I can't . . . you know."

"Maul me?"

Emmett mirrored the resigned grin he could so clearly picture on Edward's face. "Yeah."

"There's always later . . . if you're up for it." He'd tacked on the last bit with a deference that raised Emmett's hackles.

"I'll totally be up for it. I'm wired!" Then, because that all missed the real point, Emmett added, "I need to see you tonight."

"Oh, thank God!" Edward released a loud sigh. "Oops, I didn't mean to say that out loud."

Emmett smiled hard against the surface of his phone. He cleared the lump of feelings out of the way before responding, leaving his voice shaky and raw. "I feel the same way."

When Edward spoke again, his smile could have been the bright yellow suns of Emmett's finger-painted memories. "I'll see you at home, then?"

Rubdown, shower, press conference, long drive to Renton . . .

"I don't think I can wait that long. Can you come to the beach?"

"Of course. Whatever works for you. Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Our bench?" Emmett's face heated at the initials-carved-in-the-tree declaration he'd just let slip, but oh well.

"I'll be there," Edward answered. "I can't wait to . . . hug you chastely, I guess."

Emmett chuckled. "We're meeting there; we're not staying there."

Edward shot back a cautious "You sure?"

Was he? Emmett blew out a tight breath. "I'm sure I need to be with you tonight."

"Aren't you worried to be seen heading up to your place together at that hour?"

"I have friends over all the time. We just have to behave while the security cameras are watching us."

"Hmm. You don't have any cameras inside your unit, do you?" Edward's sexy hum sent Emmett's thoughts to his bedroom.

"Nope."

"Okay, then I can manage. Elevators don't exactly turn me on anyway."

"I'd love to change your mind about that someday," Emmett said, his thoughts returning to the locker room bustle when someone snapped a towel against his leg. "I gotta run. I'm not sure how long I'll be, gotta do the dancing monkey routine for a bit here."

"Soak it up, Mac. Enjoy the spotlight. I'm so damn proud of you."

"Thanks, man. You know I'll be there as soon as I can."

XXX

Emmett wasn't quite prepared for the Norman Rockwell painting waiting for him at Alki Beach. The moon was no thicker than a whitish-yellow eyelash set against the pitch black sky, and even with its reflection on the gently rolling water, the light barely illuminated the sand dragging down Emmett's eager steps. Emmett approached the figure from behind, giving himself a chance to fully appreciate the mayhem of the professor's hair, the square set of the shoulders holding up his obnoxiously autographed jersey, and the elegant drape of Edward's arm along the top rail of the bench.

Pausing for a moment, Emmett drew a deep breath, pulling the serenity of the scene fully into his body. With the mad whirl of the no-hitter adrenaline pumping through his veins, Emmett wanted nothing more than to join the scene before him, to scoot under that arm and feel it close around him. But then, this was the real world, wasn't it?

The waves hit the shore with a determined crash that must've drowned out Emmett's steps as he rounded the bench; otherwise, Edward would've turned his head. It was only when Emmett stood directly in front of Edward that he realized his devoted friend had fallen fast asleep waiting for him.

Emmett entered the canvas, sitting down gingerly beside Edward and relaxing against the back of the bench. He took the opportunity to watch Edward sleep for a few minutes—and would've watched him longer if he hadn't felt so creepy-stalkerish about it—before turning his face to the hypnotic waves and resting his eyes.

Moments later, the arm behind him shifted, startling Emmett.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Edward said.

"I wasn't sleeping. You were sleeping."

Edward grinned at him and leaned closer though they appeared to be very much alone. "Apparently, we were sleeping together."

Chuckling, Emmett recalled the serene smile on Edward's sleeping face. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."

"Same here . . . but I woke up and realized it might not be cool if someone found us like this." Edward's hands were locked together in his lap, as if they couldn't be trusted to keep to themselves.

Emmett's wistful sigh was swallowed by the waves. "Thank you."

Edward angled his body to face Emmett, lifting his knee onto the bench and giving Emmett's pitching arm a platonic pat. "So? How does it feel, Mr. MacNo-hitter?"

"Not too shabby, I gotta say."

"Tell me everything." Edward's smile was a mile wide.

"You saw the press conference, I presume?"

"What do you think?" he answered with a roll of his eyes.

"The whole night's a bit of a blur after that last pitch. I probably made a fool of myself. I was barely coherent."

"Are you kidding? You were pitch perfect! Just the right mix of humility and confidence. I don't know how you do that, but I've decided that's the secret to your charm."

Emmett couldn't help but smile back. "Oh, you have, now?"

Ignoring him, Edward spilled more excitement onto the bench between them. "Did you hear Sims called you 'Seattle Stud'?"

"Wonderful! The guys'll have a bale of hay waiting for me at practice tomorrow."

Edward grinned at him. "Wouldn't put it past 'em."

Sitting on that quiet bench, alone with this man who had done so much more than cheer Emmett on from the sidelines, this kind, intelligent man who had become both trusted friend and lover, Emmett was overcome with emotion. "You know, Edward, for the record—and don't you ever tell my mother—the first call I made tonight . . . was to you."

Edward turned his head toward the ocean and pulled his upper lip between his teeth. He didn't speak for so long, Emmett wondered if maybe he'd fallen asleep again. When he finally acknowledged the comment, Edward responded to the waves. "You have no idea how much that means to me," he said.

After scouring the area for nosy witnesses, Emmett leaned closer and answered him. "And you have no idea how much you mean to me."

Edward turned to face him with watery eyes. The sticky beach air between them pulsed with their restraint. Edward didn't look like he was going to speak this time, so Emmett took a deep breath and continued.

"Can I tell you something I couldn't say to the reporters?"

"'Course," Edward answered without hesitation.

"I think other people might hear this as cockiness, but I know you won't. I gotta tell you, tonight was the most effortless game I have ever pitched." Emmett cast his gaze toward the water, floating back to the sensory memories of the game. "I felt like I knew exactly what to do, and every pitch flew off my fingertips just how I saw it in my mind's eye. Seaver and I were perfectly in sync." He turned back to face Edward. "They asked me when I knew . . . It was early, really early in the game. I've never felt that way before—not even the night of my almost perfect game."

"Perfect game," Edward interjected.

They both chuckled. "Okay, whatever."

"So," Edward said, "I guess this means you're not fucked up over me anymore."

"Dude, I am way beyond fucked up over you, but it's different now that I know I have you."

"Well, good . . . I guess."

Physical and emotional exhaustion caught up to him at the same time. Emmett stood and stretched his arms over his head. "God, I'm sore. How long did you let me sleep?"

"You're blaming me for being sore after you threw 113 pitches? I think you need to have a word with Trey . . . or I can."

"Ha! You wish! You planning to stay here and watch the sunrise, or would you like to come upstairs and help me mark the occasion?"

Edward jumped to his feet. "Lead the way."

They walked together down the block toward Emmett's building, neither purposely touching nor taking great pains to avoid bumping shoulders. It reminded Emmett of their early days of running together, minus the awkward longing he now acknowledged both of them had been feeling. This was better, Emmett decided. The want was most definitely there, but tonight's hunger would be satisfied.

"Do you need to get your stuff from the car?" Emmett asked.

"What stuff?"

"I don't know. Toothbrush, lime green underpants?"

"Um, hello? I was just going to a baseball game when I left my house tonight. I didn't know someone was entering the history books! All I have are the clothes on my back."

"You mean all you have is me on your back," Emmett said with a wide grin.

"Was that an observation or a prediction?"

Oh, Professor. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

XXX

Either Emmett was more exhausted than he'd realized or Edward was more forceful than usual after being cooped up in the elevator, but they were no sooner inside Emmett's bedroom than Edward had Emmett flat on his back and naked as the day he was born—with a significantly larger boner. Every time he reached for Edward, his hand was batted away.

"Relax, for once," Edward told him between kisses and licks. "Just shut down your brain and feel."

Emmett groaned as Edward pulled his balls into his mouth. Oh, he was feeling, all right. Edward moved over him from head to toe, gliding his wild crop of hair along Emmett's skin, brushing against Emmett with the jersey he now wanted to tear off the man's back, nipping at his belly and tonguing his way down Emmett's shaft. He tried to turn off his mind; still, Emmett's whole body was a mass of live wires whose switch had been turned on and off too many times tonight, and Edward wasn't exactly being gentle with him.

Emmett's processor was picking up impulses centered around his groin—the grip of a hand, the swipe of a tongue, the sensation of being opened and filled—but having a hell of a time assembling the larger picture. Fingers and lips moved up Emmett's body, trailing wet kisses up his belly, neck, and chin.

Edward's mouth closed over Emmett's in a soft kiss, then moved to his ear. "Gimme a sec?"

His lover's weight shifted off the bed, and Emmett thrashed out and grabbed his wrist. "Where are you going? You're not leaving me like this!"

Bending to kiss him again, Edward chuckled. "I promise you the next part will be a lot more fun without my clothes on."

With his last ounce of energy, Emmett grinned. "Carry on."

A pleasant buzz of anticipation embraced Emmett as he watched Edward strip out of his clothes and reverently drape his jersey over the chaise lounge. The man's pace was maddening. He had to be doing it on purpose to drive Emmett crazy. Edward turned and sauntered back to the bed, his erection leading the way like a blind man's cane.

"Supplies in the nightstand?"

"Mmhmm."

There was something crazy exciting about watching Edward reach into the drawer of his nightstand for the condom and lube. Make yourself at home, Professor.

Edward wrestled the sheets out of the way, then settled in at Emmett's side. With eyes glinting in the faint light provided by the moon, Edward rolled the condom over Emmett's shaft and fisted him with a lubed-up palm.

"Ready for me?" Edward asked, straddling his thighs across Emmett's hips.

"Hell yes, but you're not ready for me." Emmett held out his fingers for a squirt of lube, but Edward shook his head.

"I got this." He gave Emmett a sexy-as-fuck grin as his fingers moved beneath him.

"Fuck, that is hot!"

Edward laid it on thick, putting on a real show for Emmett, complete with sound effects and erotic gyrations.

"Gimme that ass already, Professor!"

Edward chuckled and lined up over Emmett's tip. "C'mon, Mac. Let's see you hit this one outta the park."

Edward inched his way down the tip and shaft, pulsating around Emmett's cock until he reached the base. Emmett was beyond rational thought, his whole being reduced to the rise and fall of his lover. Emmett reached for Edward's cock, caressing him gently at first with the hand that had just pitched the no-hitter. As Edward's pumping grew more demanding, so did Emmett's palm, rolling and squeezing and pumping the cock bouncing against his belly.

Edward's hair bounced up and down with the pulsing motion, his neck straining at the effort of riding Emmett. His face tipped toward the ceiling as grunts became groans. The steady rhythm devolved into an erratic pounding. Edward lost control and covered Emmett's fisted hand with his own, forcing out a strangled cry—"OH GOD!"—before bursting into their joined hands.

Edward's orgasm set off Emmett's, hitting him like the explosion of champagne corks earlier in the locker room. With a low, rumbling groan, he released his hot spray inside his lover. Edward pressed up onto his knees and collapsed at Emmett's side, a panting, exhausted mess of a man.

His beautiful, perfect, smart, sexy partner.

"Thank you. That was the perfect ending to a perfect day."

Edward agreed with a soft hum. Reaching into the drawer again, Edward snagged a hand towel and mopped up the mess.

When the soft rustle of cleanup stopped, Emmett big-spooned Edward, sighing deeply into his shoulder blades. "I'm really glad you came."

Edward snorted, and soon the two of them were laughing until their stomachs hurt.

"That was so not what I meant," Emmett said, causing a new eruption of laughter.

"Can you simmer down now so we can get some sleep? I'm beat."

"I'll try," Edward answered, the sound of a smile obvious in his voice.

An all-is-right-with-the-world happiness settled into Emmett's heart for the night as his body pulled toward sleep.

"You still awake?" Edward's whisper cut through Emmett's drowsy half-dream state.

"Nope."

"Sorry," Edward said and went quiet again.

Emmett jiggled his hips against Edward's ass. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering, what were you and Seaver discussing on the mound?"

This man's curiosity never ceased to amaze him. No wonder he was so fucking smart. His brain wouldn't let go of anything.

"Never mind," Edward said. "You don't have to say."

Emmett rolled up onto his elbow and peered down at Edward in the darkened room. He was pretending to be asleep, the old ostrich in the sand treatment. "Hey, you."

Edward opened one eye and squinted up at him. "Yeah?"

"I don't have any secrets from you. You've got the keys to the castle. Understand?"

Edward smiled up at him. "Sure."

Emmett nodded and sank back down against Edward's back. "So . . . I've just walked Dozier, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"Seaver struts out there and flicks the ball into my mitt, and he says, 'My old lady made the best fucking meatloaf today.' So I say, 'Yeah? What's so great about it?' thinking, you know, maybe there's some hidden message in the meat or something. And he says, 'I dunno. I was just really in the mood for it. It tasted really good.' So I say, 'Thanks, man. Good talk,' and he nods at me and jogs back to the plate.'"

Edward started to laugh again, his back jostling Emmett's chest. "Seriously? Meat loaf?"

"Yep."

"I'm kind of hungry now."

"G'night, Edward."

"G'night, Sixty-nine."

Author's Note: Happy birthday to my real life Tammy inspiration! There's a thread going in the patch with some Emmett love...feel free to add on!

Hope you all enjoyed their Norman Rockwell moment. :) I just couldn't get that image of the Edward on that bench, falling asleep waiting for him, out of my silly head. The meatloaf conversation was inspired by my tennis partner, who calls me over during matches to discuss dinner or sometimes just to say hi. I love her to the moon.
XOXOXO ~BOH