XXX CHAPTER 33 XXX

ɸ69fanatic: #whatiloveaboutbaseball The all-star game brings together the best and brightest, turning rivals into teammates

Is that supposed to make me feel better about not seeing you since Thursday?

Yes. Is it working?

No. What would work is having your fine ass socked away at the Marriott across the street and making conjugal visits 8 or 20 times a day.

As romantic as that sounds (!) you'd be missing all the fun!

Fun? You mean like the torture of going alone to the Dragons concert?

Alone? Did you not notice the other fifty thousand people?

Alone = without you. There's an equation for you, Professor.

Sappy much? Am I a pussy now? Would I be this cranky if I were a pussy? Emmett was muddled, no two ways about it.

Sorry, Em. That's one I can't solve for you.

Tell me about it. Damn, wish you could be here with me. You'd be soaking this shit up. And I'd be enjoying everything even more through your eyes.

Stop teasing me!

My fingers are getting tired. I'm gonna call you.

Don't want to tire your fingers today! You have an all-star game to start!

"No shit?" Emmett snarked when Edward answered his call. "What am I gonna do when you start working, and I have nobody to tell me which days I'm pitching?"

Edward chuckled into the phone, ignoring Emmett's increasingly morose attitude toward sharing his professor with the rest of the world. "I'm still going to tell you."

"Mmhmm, just like you watched the fireworks with me on Saturday night—long distance."

"Aww, it wasn't that bad."

Sure. A text conversation while Edward watched the display on TV was peachy keen.

"Maybe if you hadn't spoiled me so thoroughly on the Fourth of July . . ."

"I knew you liked my American flag Jell-O mold!"

"The Jell-O was actually surprisingly good, but I was referring to your reverse cowboy after the grand finale."

"If you're trying to make me blush, it's not working."

Emmett got a big smile out of that one. Making Edward blush had quickly become Emmett's second favorite thing to do, all the more so now that Edward was onto him. "No? What if I remind you how I was just lying next to you, watching the fireworks display, minding my own business—"

"Pshh, you haven't minded your own business since . . . ever!"

". . . And the next thing I know, my pants are down around my ankles, and there's a hot mathematician riding me like the Lone Ranger!"

"Yes, kemosabe, that's just how I remember it happening," Edward scoffed.

"And now I'm here and you're there, and I'm stuck in a crowd of fifty thousand strangers, praying the night sky hides the Pavlovian boner I'm apparently doomed to spring every time someone shoots off a rocket."

"Poor you. As I recall, I did help you take care of that problem when you got back to your room."

"Yes, you're handy that way."

Edward's warm laughter filled Emmett's ear. "Glad to help."

"Yes, I recall that too."

"So . . . how can I be of service this morning to my favorite all-star?"

How did Edward do that, flip without any warning from teasing and playful to honey and heat? Emmett's transition was a choppier ride through dark wit. "If you're referring to Jeter, I will take the motherfucker down."

"You do know he's on your team today?"

"Like that would stop me . . ."

"Easy there, sixty-nine. You're the only all-star on my roster."

Emmett dropped all 215 pounds of muscle—including two in the form of a rock-hard boner—onto his bed. "In that case, Professor, service away."

XXX

Leaving airport. Open door in 24 minutes.

That's well above the speed limit. Please be careful.

Getting to you is a sprint—the marathon comes after that. ;)

Promises, promises.

Oh yeah? Have I ever failed to deliver?

"Text message received from Professor Spock. Read it or ignore?"

Emmett smirked at the Spyder's matter-of-fact pronunciation. "Read it!"

"Always MacPERfect."

"Say, 'Answer,' or, 'I'm done.'"

"Answer!"

"Speak your message for Professor Spock."

"You better be ready for me."

"Text message received from Professor Spock. Read it or ignore?"

"Read it!" Emmett shouted without checking his enthusiasm.

"They're red."

Fucking-a. Red! Only Emmett's favorite.

He drove the rest of the route with a huge grin on his face. Five days away from Edward was about five days too many, but their reunions were getting to be epic. Emmett had presented him with a jumbo tube of lube upon his return from New York, but this time, he had an even better gift.

Palming the autographed baseball, he tucked his left hand behind his back and knocked once before the door swung open. Red undies and a crop of goosebumps were all Edward had on, bless him.

"Welcome home," Edward said, locked in place, as if he'd been standing there anticipating Emmett's touch the whole time he'd been away.

Something primal reared up inside Emmett, seeing his boyfriend waiting for him like this, practically naked with his arms folded behind his back. Emmett reached for the tight nipples begging for his attention, drawing a sharp gasp from Edward, who made no move to touch him back. Curious. Emmett stepped closer, licking around the shell of Edward's ear as his other hand traveled lower. Edward twitched but stood his ground.

"What's happening here? Are you posing for a sculpture or something? Because this is one piece of fine art I could definitely learn to live with . . . altho-ough"—Emmett slid a finger into the waistband of the devilish boxers—"it might be a more interesting composition without these."

"I have something I want to show you," Edward sputtered out, his eyes tracking Emmett's fingers as they dipped inside his boxers.

"By all means," Emmett answered, slipping his hand deeper inside and stroking Edward's erection. "I'm sure I'd love to see anything you'd like to show me."

Edward cleared his throat and took a step backward. "Could you . . ." He flicked his fingers, gesturing for Emmett to give him some space. With an amused grin, Emmett complied.

"Okay," Edward said, suddenly more nervous and shy than Emmett had seen him in weeks. "Here goes nothing."

With a dramatic flourish, Edward brought his hands around front, revealing the juggling balls Emmett had given him weeks before and tossing them one at a time into the space between them. Emmett couldn't figure where to focus, his gaze bouncing like a super ball from Edward's long, nimble fingers to the bundle of joy doing the jig inside those damn red hot pants, pausing to appreciate the pop and roll of his tight abs before coming to rest on the adorably scrunched face with the tongue poking out the side of his mouth.

"Look at you go! Someone's been practicing."

A slight bobble sent the magical red undies scrambling to compensate, amusing Emmett with balls flying both high and low. Edward let out a tight breath and found his footing. "Shush, you!"

Emmett grinned. "My lips are sealed."

Edward gave him a disbelieving "Mhmm" while he regained his rhythm.

Taking great pains to hold his comments inside and refrain from manhandling the sexy juggler, Emmett watched quietly for several minutes before his need to see the back view got the best of him. Traveling gingerly around the undulating body, Emmett reached the Holy Grail—the clenching and unclenching butt cheeks of T'Bobo, the juggling Vulcan.

"What . . . are you doing . . . back there?" Edward forced out his words with each upsweep of his right arm.

"You didn't tell me I couldn't look!"

"Behave yourself!"

"What's the matter, Professor?" he asked, stepping close enough to Edward that Emmett's leg brushed against the soft hair on the inside of Edward's thigh. "Don't you trust me?"

"No! Not . . . one . . . tiny . . . bit!" Edward swayed a bit, then steadied.

"Aw, c'mon. What'm'I gonna do? Toss in a fourth ball for you to juggle?"

Emmett reached around Edward's side, grabbing hold of the jostling buns with his left hand while tossing the autographed baseball into Edward's juggling arc.

"Hey! What the—HOLY SHIT! WHAT'S THIS?"

All three squishy, bean-filled bags plopped to the floor with an angry, hey-what-about-me thud. Edward caught the baseball and spun into Emmett's arms. "What did you do?" Holding the ball in the palm of his hand as if it were the Hope Diamond, Edward twisted it reverently until he'd read each and every name scrawled on its surface. "This is amazing! You have to put this in a glass case immediately!"

Emmett chuckled. "I don't have to do anything. It's yours."

"What? You got this for me? All these names? You don't even like half these people."

"First of all, that's not true. There are only two—okay, three—I truly detest. And second, I like you, and that's all that matters."

Edward looped his arms around Emmett's neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Thank you. This is the best gift on the planet." More kisses, a little tongue. "I mean it, Emmett. I will treasure this."

Edward's body, still warm from the juggling, pressed against him. "And I will treasure the image of you juggling for me. That was dazzling, truly."

"I had to do something while you were away. I was going nuts."

"Me too," Emmett answered. That guilt that lived just below the surface was poking its ugly face up for air. The league's all-star weekend was the one family-friendly stretch in the summer's long, rigorous baseball schedule, and Emmett was one of the few without a girlfriend or wife to share it with. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you with me." Emmett's hands slid inside the back of Edward's boxers, cupping his cheeks and squeezing. "I missed these."

"You romantic fool." Edward chuckled before leaning in to kiss him again.

Emmett finished off the kiss with a swipe of his tongue across Edward's upper lip. "Fine, I missed this too." He reached down and cupped Edward's balls. "And I definitely missed these."

Raising his eyebrows, Edward answered with a smirk of his own. "If you'll recall, I did offer to stow away in your luggage . . . more than once."

"Yes, you little tempter. I recall quite clearly. If only . . ."

If only people could just accept us.

If only I weren't such a damn pussy.

If only I didn't have so much to lose.

". . . If only I could trust myself around you in public."

Edward's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "You and your mauling!"

"Forget mauling! I was referring to the dumbass way I'm sure I look at you."

As Emmett's words sank in, Edward's eyes narrowed and glazed over. "That's kind of my favorite part."

"Me being a dumbass?"

"Mmhmm," Edward hummed, running his hands down Emmett's back. "The chink in your armor."

"Armor? Jesus, Edward. My armor is Swiss cheese when I'm around you."

"Is that a bad thing?" They were rocking slowly, almost imperceptibly, but the movement was enough to both soothe Emmett and make him want to tackle Edward to the floor.

Emmett laughed. "It's certainly new and different for me . . . but surprisingly, no, not bad—not when we're alone, at least. But you know all it takes is the wrong person catching us, and I'm cooked."

"I know. It's all good. I'll take what I can get in private."

Guilt curdled Emmett's insides. Edward deserved better, and so did he, but for now, this was what they had, and Emmett was damn well making the most of it. "Speaking of private, what the hell are we still doing out here with my clothes on?"

Edward reached for the button of Emmett's shorts. "I believe you were telling me what you missed about me."

Author's Note: Shoutout to Shadow Masen for the T'Bobo reference. I knoweth not of these things.

Well, it looks like our boy has some ball skillz! And Emmett knows he's a dumbass. Happy days!

xxx ~BOH