Ty looked him up and down, drank in the dark, hairy chest and belly. "So you hit me with a newspaper. Thanks."
Jae shrugged and hefted his suitcase onto the bed. He looked at Ty from the corner of his eye and smirked. "It was either that or whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you woke up."
Ty paused, his heart hammering. By how he'd been acting it was possible Jae had guessed all those glances weren't an accident, but there was no way in hell he'd prove him right.
"I think I prefer being hit," he mumbled.
"Man, you sleep like a freaking rock. I must have said your name three or four times."
With Jae yapping away, trying for another twenty minutes of sleep wasn't about to happen. Sitting up, Ty scratched his chest and yawned. He glanced at the clock, then at Jae.
"It's only six."
"Yeah."
Ty collapsed and turned onto his side, facing away from his roommate. "You'll see me in about five more hours."
"I'm going next door to get breakfast. You want anything?"
His stomach growled, but Ty shook his head. The last thing he wanted was Jae bringing him breakfast in bed. Too risky, too obvious ... too right. "I'll grab something later."
"Alright." Jae rummaged around in his suitcase before the rasp of a zipper and the thump of heavy luggage sounded his departure. "Watch out for spiders."
"Yep."
He held his breath, waited until the door closed and muted footsteps disappeared down the hall before he turned over and released the pressure of his weight from his throbbing cock. Even after being whacked in the head with a newspaper he'd maintained his erection--or maybe the taste of violence only turned him on more than ever.
It didn't matter what had turned him on, only that he needed to get off. Now. Stretched out on the bed, he held onto his dick with his thumb and forefinger and pulled, his eyes closed and soft groans left his parted lips. He imagined what would happen if Jae were still in the room, what the Arsenal's third baseman would say or do if he ever suspected the team shortstop wanted him. Turning onto his side, he fumbled for a bottle of hand lotion and coated his right palm, sweeping it over his erection. He didn't need the scent of almond and cherry lotion, which he'd bought on accident, he needed Jae's familiar scent to tease him.
With his balls aching, he shoved off his shorts and padded into the bathroom, turning the shower on full blast. He stood with one hand against the cold tile and poured body wash onto his chest, smelling his initial contact with Jae.
It hardened him, made his knees weak and balls tight. He bit his lip and ran the palm of his hand over the head of his dick, stroked the sensitive tip until he could barely stand it.
"Suck me off," he murmured, spreading his legs wider. He cupped his testicles, felt the surge of climax in his veins--close, but not close enough, not yet. He tilted back his head, felt the hot spray of water leaving the shower head. Licking his lips, he visualized Jae standing over him, masturbating. He imagined the spurt of semen hot as water from the faucet spurting onto his face, how he'd lap up every drop before he stood and kissed him hard, allowed him to taste himself.
They could lay side by side, head to feet, and pleasure each other. In all his years of being a professional player he'd always fantasized about taking a man while he was on the road, but Zember wasn't any man's fantasy and he wasn't gay, either. But Jae? He had something about him, an indescribable, appealing way that drew Ty to him. He wanted to believe they had some sort of connection, but he'd been wrong before and paid the price--brutally.
)
