Play Ball by CB Potts Torquere Press www.torquerepress.com Copyright ©2006 by CB Potts First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2006 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons. Distributed by Fictionwise.com 2 Play Ball by CB Potts Table of Contents After the Old Ball Game by Sean Michael Swordsmen by Syd McGinley Football & The Beach by Sean Michael Leaving the Pool by Dean Durber Volleys & Touchdown by BA Tortuga Still in the Gate by Vincent Diamond Hitting Streak by Julia Talbot Sticky Wicket by Fiona Glass Coach by Alex Exley Stick Handling by Landon Dixon Dojo Men by Thomas Fuchs On Ice by James Buchanan Center Pocket by Emily Veinglory Ringside by CB Potts More than a Mouthful by Sean Hagan Pick Up by Linnet Horsin' Around by Richard Citrel 3 Play Ball by CB Potts CONTENTS After the Old Ball Game by Sean Michael Swordsmen by Syd McGinley Football and the Beach by Sean Michael Leaving the Pool by Dean Durber Volleys and Touchdowns by BA Tortuga Still in the Gate by Vincent Diamond Hitting Streak by Julia Talbot Sticky Wicket by Fiona Glass Coach by Alex Exley Stickhandling by Landon Dixon Dojo Men by Thomas Fuchs On Ice by James Buchanan Center Pocket by Emily Veinglory Ringside by CB Potts More Than A Mouthful by Sean Hagan Pick Up by Linnet Horsin' Around by Richard Citrel * * * * 4 Play Ball by CB Potts Play Ball! Right now, while I'm writing these words, the entire world's become obsessed with football. I hear about the World Cup first thing in the morning and it's the last thing on the news at night. Every broadcast is filled with legions of good looking men kicking a ball around the field, an endless battle for dominance and glory. Who's going to win? Damned if I know. Who's playing? Damned if I know that either. Some of us watch sports a little differently. We don't care about RBI or first downs. We don't care if that's a world record or a personal best. We just want to see sweaty bodies working hard. And here, we do. Sure, we've got some 'on the field' action for you sports buffs—from cricket matches to the boxing ring, hockey to ice skating, basketball and, of course, football— American style. Jarheads style. So read on. Enjoy. Root for your favorite athletes as they strive for glory. It'll be better than the Olympics. I promise. CB Potts 5 Play Ball by CB Potts After the Old Ball Game by Sean Michael Benj curled up in Brett's easy chair, watching the Marlins crush the Wolverines on the brand new TV. The chair smelled of his lover, musk and leather and a hint of Cool Water, and was really the best seat in the house. It sure beat the seats at the game and it was still early enough in the year these evening games were cold. Besides, he didn't drive and it would take him forever to get home if he attended and Brett would beat him back and... None of the excuses really made him feel any less guilty for not attending Brett's home games in person, but he knew the full body massage he was going to give Brett would. He winced as the pitcher threw the ball right at Brett, hitting him just above the elbow, catching the bulging tricep. That was the second time the Wolverines had deliberately hit Brett, keeping the slugger from hitting another home run. Benj supposed it made sense strategically, Brett was responsible for all six of the Marlins' runs, but it was still bad sportsmanship as far as he was concerned and he knew it would make Brett furious. There was only an inning more to play and Benj watched as the Marlins scored one more run before they struck McGee out. Then the Marlin pitcher shut the Wolverines down in the top of the ninth and it was over. He turned off the TV and brought out his massage table, putting the towels in the warmer and setting his oils up in a bowl of hot water. Brett's coach wasn't likely to keep the 6 Play Ball by CB Potts players long, not after a blowout win like this one. Benj wanted to be ready when Brett came through the door, growling and hurt as a wounded bear. All set up, Benj fluttered through the house, picking up this and that, straightening the magazines, making sure there was a cold beer or three in the fridge, that Brett's favorite glass was clean and in freezer. He put on a bit of classical music, Mozart to lift Brett's spirits and then curled back up in the big chair that held the imprint of his lover's body. It could have been forever, or just a few moments, before the front door to their condo slammed open, Brett's arm wrapped in an ice pack, his blond lover glowering. "Did you see that motherfucker Jameson? I swear to God, baby, I ought to go down to the Hilton and beat that bastard to death." "I did see! Twice! On purpose! They were just terrified you were going to knock a couple more out of the park." Benj leapt out of the chair and hustled over to Brett, taking the duffel from Brett. Benj tossed it toward the laundry and raised his face for a kiss. He got a half-grin before Brett leaned down, kissed him good and hard, just pouring all of that fury and frustration and excitement into it, into him. It made his head spin. He wrapped one arm around Brett's good shoulder, the other around Brett's waist and just held on, mouth opening wide as that little, close-cropped beard scraped his chin. Oh, he loved this man, loved the passion Brett infused into his life. Pressing close, Benj let his head drop back, the kiss going deeper. 7 Play Ball by CB Potts Brett purred, one callused hand finding his ass and squeezing, tugging him closer. "Taste good, baby." He beamed up at his lover. Brett made him feel so damned good. Like the center of the universe. "For you," he murmured, rubbing against his favorite slugger's muscles. "Shit yeah. I'll be pissed if you hid another ball player in here." He blinked up at Brett for a moment and then started to laugh. "Nut," he accused fondly, squeezing Brett's shoulder. "Like anyone else could hold a candle to you and your ... bat." Brett's laugh shook him, jostled him as he moved them toward the massage table. Benj started to undo Brett's buttons, letting his fingers linger on Brett's skin as it was exposed. "I found a new rubbing oil. It's supposed to warm and soothe your muscles. The bottle says long-lasting so it should keep working long after I stop." "You're going to stop?" Tease. Those eyes just danced. He looked Brett up and down, wincing as he noticed the bruise on Brett's side. "I'll go all night if you need me to, Brett." "Mmm ... You and me? All night? I'm there, baby." Brett took another kiss, this one slower, deeper. "You want my jeans off?" A shiver went through Benj and he whimpered softly, his whole body going tight from the kiss. "Yeah. Take them off." Swallowing, nodding to reinforce his yes, he helped Brett get rid of the ice around his arm and the shirt came right off. 8 Play Ball by CB Potts Oh, that bruise was ... God. Just wrong on that tanned skin. His fingers ghosted over it and Brett hummed. "They x- rayed it, baby. Nothing's broken." "Thank God for that. Does it hurt? Did they give you anything for the pain?" He slid his fingers over Brett's face, cupping his lover's cheek, looking into Brett's eyes. "Just a little sore." He knew what that meant. It hurt and they gave Brett something and Brett didn't take it. He made a soft noise and let his fingers drift down to Brett's shoulder, beginning to rub the warm skin. "Hurting anywhere else tonight?" "Mmm. Nowhere your hands won't fix it." Brett climbed onto the massage table, settled nice and easy. "We fucking kicked ass, baby." He laughed softly. "I saw. And you drove in all the runs but that last one, which you scored. I cheered so loudly the neighbors knocked on the wall." He started to massage Brett, working the wide shoulders first. "They obviously weren't watching the game." The pale tattoos fascinated him, dozens of white tigers inked on Brett's shoulders, down the muscled back. He traced them with his fingers, digging in, knowing Brett liked it when he really worked the tired muscles. "Obviously. I did though. You were really on your game today." "I want to go to the All-Star Game. I want to renegotiate my contract in October." "You keep playing like you have been and they'd be crazy not to send you." He slid his hands down along Brett's sides, 9 Play Ball by CB Potts moaning softly. He did love the feeling of Brett's skin under his hands. "I hope so. My stats are solid." Brett stretched, sliding a little under his hands. He reached for the oil, pouring a generous portion into his hands and then went back to rubbing Brett's skin. "You're an awesome player—they're lucky to have you." And he was lucky to have Brett, too. Such a gorgeous stud. And all his. "Thanks, baby." Brett hummed, moving slow and lazy under his hands. "Feels good." "Yeah? That's good." He grinned and focused on carefully pushing his fingers against Brett's spine; sometimes he got so caught up in how good it felt to touch Brett that he forgot he was supposed to be massaging. His hands drifted down to Brett's buttocks, digging into the beautiful, strong muscles. "Uh-huh." Brett's legs spread, the scent of male and need heady. Whimpering, Benj forced himself to keep his hands massaging, working Brett's thighs, his shins, then his feet, making sure not to tickle. "Turn over," Benj murmured, voice thick. "I'll do your front." "Uh-huh." Brett's cock was full, dark, the tip wet and wide. Benj whimpered again, licking his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked. If Brett needed it, he'd be good and keep massaging. "Melted. Horny as hell." "Perfect." He slid his hands up along Brett's legs, sliding them over Brett's hips and up along the solid chest. Just as 10