He wrapped his fingers around his cock and felt the first beads of precum bubble out. His thumb swiped over his slit and he shuddered, closing his eyes and envisioning Lucas in his bed with him. With his bowl of ice cream. Licking the spoon.
He stroked himself slowly, letting the anticipation build. He wondered what Lucas would say if he knew Caleb was gay, too. Caleb pulled at his full balls and moaned. He grasped his cock again and moved faster, his hips thrusting upward as he jerked off. So much for taking his time; this was going to be a quick one.
With his release close, he gave in to the desire. “Mmm, yes, Lucas,” he whispered, “that’s it, baby.”
The fantasy of Lucas stroking him was all it took to push him over the edge. His orgasm came in waves, and he cried Lucas’ name as he rode it through, letting the colors pour over him, the blinding light flashing at him until he gasped. His cum painted his chest with several streaks until the last bit of his release dribbled out with a shudder.
Caleb lay still for a few minutes, letting himself come back down. He felt like a high school teenager, finishing as fast as he had.
He grabbed the shirt he had tossed onto the carpet when climbing into bed last night. After wiping his chest, he smiled. He looked forward to calling Lucas, and hoped he was up early like he’d mentioned last night. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and frowned at the disarray. It was time to face facts—he was a slob. There was no way he was going to let Lucas see this disaster. Something about him made Caleb want to put his best foot forward. He sighed and pulled himself up. Time to get busy. He had an apartment to clean and a hot man to call.
* * * *
Lucas had not slept well. After giving up around four in the morning, he got out of bed and decided to research baseball on the web. He was pulling out his hair within twenty minutes.
What the hell is a DH? And why are some people so against it?
He typed “DH” and “baseball” into the Google bar and the words “designated hitter” popped up.
What the hell? You can have someone hit the ball for you? Too bad I didn’t know about that in kindergarten, the one and only day I played T-ball.
He gave up and grabbed himself a couple of granola bars, then looked around his little studio rental. Hehad moved so quickly, he had yet to find a more permanent place. At least living at the extended-stay hotel would give him a chance to find out more about the area. On the plus side, it had a fridge and small stove. He wasn’t a bad cook and had a few of his own pots and pans still packed in a box. He stretched as he paced around his place. He still needed to get unpacked. He would be here at least a month or so. It was time to make himself a little more at home.
The place offered a free breakfast downstairs every morning. Cereal, bagels, and even scrambled eggs. There was coffee and juice, but he had tried the coffee the previous morning and immediately decided to stick with Starbucks. He’d been thrilled to find one right next to the office building.
After he showered and dressed, he called his new boss and filled him in on the plan for the day. Mr. Sheldon was happy that he’d found someone willing to help him.
“Don’t worry, son, this is for only a short time. We’re lining up some interviews today,” he promised Lucas.
“Thanks. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the job,” Lucas began, but his boss cut him off.
“Say no more, Landry. We hired you for news, not sports. But we really appreciate you pinch-hitting for us on this.”
Shit. Did everyone talk in sports lingo? He felt like he’d fallen through the rabbit hole. Lucas had spent most of his life running from sports and jocks, but since arriving here in Rain Valley, he’d beenthrust into their world. It was…unsettling, to say the least.
His boss let him go and he waited for Caleb to give him a call.
Caleb. He sighed and shook his head, frustrated. What was he going to do about that man? He couldn’t let Caleb know he was gay. God, he couldn’t relive his high school days. He’d barely survived back then.
Being the daily target of school bullies had almost been his undoing, and most of those bullies had beenjocks. Big, muscle-bound, testosterone-laced, angry jocks. He had cowered then, refusing to fight back. But now? He wasn’t the same person he’d been in high school.