10. Gabe

CHAPTER 10

GABE

I don't care how much of a nice guy Tripp is. Right now, I want to tear his dick off his body with my bare hands.

"Why are you staring at Tripp like you're planning to murder him in an alleyway?"

"I dunno, 'cuz I might."

Elliot chuckles, nudging my arm with his affectionately. His grin is sarcastic, but there's an uncomfortable seriousness in his eyes that makes me squirm. It's probably more than obvious that my sudden dislike for Tripp Landon has everything to do with his brother, but there's no reason for him to think of it as being any more than protectiveness.

"He'll be fine," he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he hasn't caught on.

"You ready to go?" I ask, wanting to get the fuck out of here and get Ellis far away from a certain shortstop.

"Yeah. I'm beat, and I need to ice again before bed."

I nod and signal to Ellis that we're l eaving. My hand reaches for my wallet, but Elliot stops me and tosses some bills onto the table to cover the three of us. I hate it, but I know better than to fight it. Truth is, he can afford it more than I can. Their parents aren't rich, but they're well off enough to make sure their boys have enough money in their accounts for basic expenses. And since Elliot got a full ride scholarship with a stipend, he rarely touches it. It took me many years to accept the way Elliot and his family have always shared with me, although I still struggle with accepting what feels like charity. Hell, I practically lived with them off and on since elementary school, whenever my mom needed backup because my dad didn't show up for his visitation schedule, or because she needed a break. It wasn't until I was almost in high school that I realized needing a break meant a depressive episode. The Hopes were the ones to sign me up for baseball with their sons and even bought me the equipment when Elliot and I got serious about playing.

Someday, though, Elliot and I are going to make it to the big leagues together. And not only will I be able to pay my own way and take care of my mom, but I'll be able to return every kindness his family has shown me over the years. I daydream about it sometimes, what Ethan Hope's face would look like when his "bonus son" hands him the keys to some flashy, expensive car. Or how Mama Hope, which is what Elain likes me to call her, will react when she's sent on an all-expenses-paid vacation.

Lately some of those daydreams have been tainted by what I imagine their expressions will be when they realize I've been defiling their son. Somehow, I think they'd be less offended if it were Elliot. After all, we've been attached at the hip since we were kids, it would almost seem natural. But no, I had to go for their baby. And I'm not calling him that because I agree with the way they've always coddled him. He was born smaller and spent some time in the NICU, and as a small child he was sick a lot, but he grew out of all that. He's healthy and thriving, especially now that his parents and Elliot aren't shelte ring him so much. And yeah, okay, me too. Obviously, I have my own issues with wanting to protect Ellis, and maybe it used to be because I saw him as weaker, because that's how the family treated him. But that's not how I see him anymore. Now I want to protect him because I see him as mine . And that is so much worse.

We're all quiet as Elliot drives us back to campus. Ellis is in the backseat texting back and forth with someone. Probably Tripp. Or Antoni.

ELLISH: Jealous much?

Yes, I'm jealous. I'm sick with it. I hate that Tripp can flirt with him openly, and other than a few looks when they came back to the table after a long absence, no one even batted an eye at them. I hate that they might have anything in common to talk about, and that Ellis invited him to one of his pride club meetups. I hate that Antoni is so beautiful and always touching Ellis, fixing his hair and straightening his clothes and whispering in his ear. Hell, I even hate Ivy because I know he's slept in her bed a couple of times, or used her shower when his dorms were extra gross. I'm jealous of each and every friend that has grabbed his hand or eaten lunch with him or fucking made him smile and helped him become this vibrant, open, happy version of himself. Fuck. I'm jealous of fucking Johnny , because he gets to make him feel, whether through text and pictures or by throwing caution to the wind.

I thumb through our last messages from the restaurant. I know I'm playing with fire by sending messages like this, letting him know I'm there. I think he suspects I'm on the team. And I've been trying to throw him off by timi ng my messages just right to make sure I look busy instead of letting him catch me looking at my phone. Like when I sent those pictures during the scrimmage today, I had them queued up in my phone so all I had to do was push send before I ran out onto the field in full gear. By the time he opened them, it would have seemed impossible that it was me who sent them.

Admittedly, between the games I'm playing to cover my ass, and the mental gymnastics I've been doing to justify it all, I'm exhausted. But the way my blood rushes when I so much as think of Ellis, much less when he's in my vicinity, makes him impossible to walk away from. The smell of his hair, the taste of his sweat, the feel of his smooth skin beneath my rough palms—it's intoxicating. Addictive.

After watching Ellis flirt with Tripp all night, I'm on edge. I'm jonesing to get my hands on him, to punish him for making me feel this way. To show him the pleasure that he can't get anywhere else.

JOHNNY: I want to lick, suck, and bite your skin in every place he touched you.

ELLISH: Do it, then.

JOHNNY: I don't think I could control myself this time.

ELLISH: That picture you sent me says you don't have as much control as you think you do.

JOHNNY: Did I hurt you?

ELLISH: No.

JOHNNY: Because I was in control.

I snea k a glance at Ellis in the back seat, watching him blink at the screen, eyebrows raising.

ELLISH: I wouldn't mind seeing you lose a little of that control.

JOHNNY: We almost got caught.

ELLISH: So maybe this time we try to be less conspicuous.

ELLISH: And maybe aim most of the mess directly down my throat rather than soaking me with it? Seems like a waste of a perfectly good snack.

Ellis bites his lip, looking pleased with himself. I nearly choke, covering it up by laughing at my phone. I open a meme site and hold the screen up to a random meme I didn't even read, hoping it's as funny as I'm pretending to find it. Elliot barely glances, because he's driving, and I tell him I'll text it for later. The moment Elliot puts the car in park, I jump out of the Jeep and tell them both goodnight. When I overhear Ellis ask Elliot what I'm running off for in such a hurry, I call back at them, "I have a date!" Because two can play his little jealousy game. I need to get away before I do something truly reckless, like submit to the harebrained idea I'd had earlier today.

Sure enough, barely two minutes pass before I get another message from him.

ELLISH: I kept the blindfold.

Fucking hell. Brain Cells? What brain cells?

JOHNNY: Meet me in the visitor's dugout in twenty minutes. Blindfolded, hands behind your back.

I use the locker room to take a quick shower, focusing on the important parts that I'm hoping Ellis is about to get acquainted with. I barely showered earlier, because I'd gotten this dumb idea and wanted to scout the dugouts. There are cameras at the entrances to the sports complex, and I wanted to confirm there weren't any pointed toward the field. It's been too hard, pun intended, to be around Ellis lately. Once I noticed how round and tight his ass looks in the uniform pants he wears to play bat boy, it was all over. I nearly got us caught and risked Ellis finding out who I am. I need to be smarter. Unfortunately, I'm not smart enough to just walk away. Especially when fucking Tripp Landon might offer him everything he wants and needs.

Ellis is mine. He might not know it, and Tripp certainly doesn't know it. But I do.

And wouldn't you know it? I didn't even have to find an excuse to get him to the dugouts in the middle of the night. He offered it up on a silver platter, and I'll be damned if I can resist.

He's late, but he shows up and immediately pulls the headband down over his eyes before making a show out of crossing his wrists behind his back. My cock twitches with anticipation, but I wait him out. I sit toward the back of th e home dugout, watching him for another ten minutes. Every time an owl hoots or a bug chirps, he turns his head to listen, but he never moves to uncross his wrists or remove the blindfold. Eventually, he sits down, and I worry he might give up. Slowly and quietly, I make my way across home plate. I make it all the way to the entrance to the dugout before he hears me. He moves to stand, but I tell him to stay where he is. He smirks, and I know he's making fun of my disguised voice again.

Stepping closer, I let my hand rest on his shoulder before slowly trailing my fingers up his neck. Ellis shivers, and with that one simple touch, his smirk is wiped off his face and transferred to mine. My fingers dig into the nape of his hair, and he allows me to move his head, so he's facing up. Ellis lets out a sigh, his mouth dropping open slightly. I bend forward and brush my lips against his. Before the kiss can grow too heated, I pull back and stand, releasing his hair from the elastic it's tied back in. His dark hair falls around his neck, not quite touching his shoulders. I take a moment to just look at him like this, blindfolded and at my mercy. An unbidden, involuntary sound emanates from my chest; a rumbling sound that's a cross between a growl and a purr.

Straddling the bench next to him, I turn his body to put his back against my chest. I move his arms to link behind my neck, pressing them firmly to imply they should stay. My cold fingers tickle up his sides, snaking around his body to feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. One hand sprawls over his flat stomach, the other palming his chest.

I've never touched another man the way I touch Ellis. Never even considered it. It's different from touching a woman. Although Ellis has curves and soft features that could almost be considered feminine, the hard planes of his abs and chest, his deep voice, and the way he smells are all distinctly masculine. There's no mistaking that I'm touching a man, even before my hands journey south to cup his denim-clad erection . It's not just his body that's different, though. I've never been so out of my mind turned on by just being near a woman, the way I am with him. What I can't figure out is why.

When my thoughts first started straying outside of brotherly, I did a lot of soul searching. At first, I tried to deny my attraction, writing it off as a trick of my imagination. My affection for him as my best friend's brother was confused. My awareness of him was just me being annoyed that he was always around. When I've tried to look at other men that way, I feel nothing. Gay porn does nothing for me. It's just… him . It's something I've started coming to terms with since that night in the utility closet. Because since that day, he's all I can think about.

Is it the forbidden element that's snared me? Maybe. Although I've never noticed anyone else's siblings, male or female, like this before. Hell, I've had friends with really hot sisters that I could easily imagine myself hooking up with that didn't get me this wound up.

Ellis moans when my fingers pinch around one of his hard nipples, and my cock twitches against the small of his back. He arches into me and I reach for his crotch, cupping him at the apex of his thighs and pulling his body into mine. The pressure of his ass against my groin sends a wave of desperate need through me, and all I want to do is strip us both down and touch every inch of his skin with mine. I've never been good at holding myself back from what I want, and having him in my hands like this is a cruel tease.

My fingers undo the fly of his jeans and dip inside his briefs.

"So hard for me," I rumble against his ear, palming his cock roughly.

His head tips back against my shoulder, angling so I can take his mouth in a hard kiss. His hips jerk forward to thrust into my touch, but I close my arm around him , banding him against me so he can't squirm as much while I explore. I scratch my nails through his soft pubes and fondle his balls, rolling them around in my big hand. He lets out a soft frustrated growl the third time I wrap my fingers around his shaft and stroke once before moving on to touch him elsewhere. I chuckle at the way he straddles the line of cute and sexy, but it's cut off when he drops one of his arms and directs my hand back to his cock. With his fingers over mine, he guides my hand to squeeze around his cock and stroke him. I let out a low curse at the thump in my balls as he uses my hand to jerk himself. With his hand on mine, I squeeze and stroke until his breath hitches and he's moaning loudly.

The name Johnny on his lips has me pulling my hand back when he's close to the edge. His sound of protest is caught in a squeal of surprise as I manhandle him to turn around and face me. I push him to lie back on the bench and pull his pants just below his ass to give his jutting erection more room. Then I lean over and hook my arms beneath his thighs. His eager cock twitches as I close my mouth around him, sucking so hard and fast that Ellis can't do more than cry out a curse before he's exploding in my mouth.

For someone who's never sucked a cock or considered taking another man's load in my mouth before, I sure do fucking love it. I love the way he tastes, and I'm careful not to let one drop go to waste. Even after he's softening in my mouth, I keep licking and sucking him, rolling my tongue between his foreskin and his shaft to catch every bit of his release. My nose rubs into his pubic hair, inhaling the musky scent of his sweat and arousal as my mouth dips lower, licking his taint and sucking each ball into my mouth. Ellis combs his fingers through my hair, his grip tightening whenever something hurts, tickles, or feels good. My cock hurts, pressing into the bench as my hips jerk involuntarily with every taste of him. I pepper the insides of his thighs with hickeys so dark, they're obvious even in the dim light .

"I want to mark you everywhere," I growl. "So anyone that gets to see your pretty little cock knows I was here first."

Ellis forces himself to sit up, blindly reaching to pull my face to his. "You're going to fucking ruin me," he groans against my mouth.

"That's the plan, baby boy."

I swallow the helpless sounds he makes, pulling him into my lap. He licks into my mouth, stealing the taste of his cum from my tongue. A hand drops between our bodies, pushing into the waistband of my athletic pants and wrapping his hand around my cock. The head of my cock is wet, dripping with proof of my arousal. Ellis' palm rolls over the head and spreads the pre-cum down my shaft, using it to lube his strokes. It's not enough though, and he pulls away.

"I want to taste you," he says. And fuck if I don't almost come just from the sound of his voice saying those words, and the way his tongue wets his lips as he says them.

Pulling him closer to my body, I hold his legs around me and stand, turning toward the fence that separates the field from the dugout. In a few short steps, his back is pressed against the chain link, and it bows with our weight as I thrust myself against him. His zipper is rough against my balls, pinching me, and I realize it must be digging into him as well, so I carefully let him down. His feet touch the ground, but he keeps sinking lower as he drops to his knees. My fingers grip the chain link, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of his hand steadying my cock, the hot brush of his breath over my skin before his lips brush against me lightly. The soft caress becomes more confident, open-mouthed kisses as he explores my cock with his mouth. Drops of pre-cum follow as he trails kisses from the tip, all the way down to the root, before he presses the flat of his tongue against my shaft and licks all the way back to my slit. My cock jerks so hard he has to grip me harder to keep it still while he laps at my leaking tip. Then his mouth encloses around the head and I throw my head back, suppressing a roar as an orgasm threatens.

My hand joins his, squeezing the base of my cock to stave off the impending eruption. I have to squeeze harder when I chance a glance down at the flush of his cheeks peeking from below the blindfold, his mouth open wide and stretched around my cock. I keep my hand there, helping feed him more of my cock. My mouth drops open the more of me he takes until I'm touching the back of his throat.

"Oh, holy fuck," I choke out.

He hums around me and I shiver, pulling out and slowly thrusting back in, careful not to give him too much. Ellis pulls the legs of my pants until they drop lower on my thighs, resting his hands just below my ass. The pressure of his hands encourages me to keep moving, and his grip tightens, attempting to pull me into him even more. I falter, nearly buckling at the knees, and I have to let go of my cock to steady myself against the fence. The metal wire bites into my skin as my fingers grip the chain link tighter. The sharp bite of pain helps me refocus, and it's a good thing. Without my hand around the base of my shaft to control the depth, Ellis is taking me so deep he chokes. My veins flush with heat at the pressure of his throat contracting around my cock. I desperately wish I could see his bright blue eyes looking up at me while he gives me the best fucking blow job of my life.

Has he done this before?

The idea of Ellis on his knees for anyone else sends a flash of anger through me, and I reach down to grab him by his hair. The little cry he lets out is muffled by the cock still stuffed in his mouth, but it's enough for me to loosen my grip slightly so as not to hurt him.

"You're mine, pretty boy," I growl .

Keeping my firm grip on his hair, I control his mouth, thrusting to meet his face. With each drive of my hips, he makes a wet, gurgled choking sound that makes my nuts seize up. I pull back a little to let him breathe, but after sucking in a few breaths, his mouth slack and drooling, he tugs forward and opens his mouth again. The way he acts so greedy for my cock makes me wild, and I fuck his mouth with barely restrained control. His noises get louder the harder I thrust into his throat, part gagging, part moans that make me feel dizzy. My balls tighten and throb, edging toward an explosion.

"Fuck, I'm going to come."

Instead of pulling back or hesitating, Ellis' fingers dig into the backs of my thighs, nails surely breaking skin. He fucking wants this. The last of my control shatters, and I fuck his face hard, the fence rattling with every thrust of my hips. Heat flushes over my skin as my pleasure spikes. I pull out of Ellis's mouth, gruff instructions tumbling from my mouth even as he's coughing and sucking in air.

"Open wide for me, baby. I want to see my cum fill your mouth."

Ellis obeys just in time for the first wave of cum to shoot out of me like a fountain. I grunt and lean on the fence, watching the thick, white liquid spurt into his mouth, coating his tongue before I rub my pulsing cock against it.

A string of unintelligible garble falls from my lips as I jerk off into his mouth. My hand releases his hair and moves to wrap around his neck, just tight enough to feel his throat move when I tell him to swallow. Then more curses when he wraps his lips around my cock and sucks out whatever is left of my soul. My body goes slack with the last drop, and I lean heavily against the fence, barely able to keep myself up.

Ellis stands and fits himself into the minuscule space between me and the fence, his face pressed into the crook of my shoulder. He trails kisses up my neck and licks m y earlobe before whispering, "I like the way you taste even more than I thought I would." His voice is raspy from the abuse I put his throat through. I push myself back enough to look down at him, my hand resting on his throat.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Not in any way I didn't like."

I'm not sure how I feel about that answer. A mix between terror and pride, disappointment and arousal. I shut down my own thoughts by kissing him until I can't feel my lips and we're both hard again. Holding him against the dugout fence, I take both of us in my hand and jerk us hard, until Ellis has to muffle a shout in my shoulder as his cum coats us both. His teeth dig into my flesh, hard enough to break skin, the sharp pain of his bite throwing me over the edge. My cum joins his as I continue jerking us through our orgasms, mouth latched to his, relishing the burn of his nails on the back of my neck as he holds on for dear life.

This is so fucking wrong. But I'm so lost to him, all I want is to peel the blindfold away and look into his eyes as I make him come again and again. For the rest of my life, it's all I ever want to do.