Page 69 of Serving Bunt

I want you on your knees when I get there.

Three little dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Diaz

Yes, sir.

I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, feeling lighter than I had in months. When I finally made it back to our blanket, Diaz looked up at me. His eyes were dark and full of promise, the kind of look that made my pants tighten and my skin feel too warm.

I wasn’t the only one affected. The thick outline of his half-hard cock was tenting the thin fabric of his short shorts. God, I loved that I had done that to him with nothing more than a few text messages.

Mo was curled up happily between us, deep into a food coma. Diaz absently scratched behind her ears while his gaze stayed locked on me.

I sat down beside him, closer than before. Before he could say anything, I smiled and whispered, “Watch the game, Peter.”

Diaz’s mouth twitched like he wanted to argue, but he just leaned back, that knowing smirk still playing on his lips. A moment later, I felt his fingers brush mine. I turned my palm over and laced our fingers together, holding on tight where no one could see.

We stayed like that for the next one-and-a-half innings, secretly holding hands under the stars while our teammates played on the side of a barn.

When the seventh inning began, Diaz gave my hand one last squeeze before pulling away. He stood up slowly, stretching his arms overhead like he was just getting up to grab another drink.

“Be right back,” he said casually, but the look he gave me was anything but.

I watched him walk toward the cabin, heart hammering in my chest. A few minutes later, during the next commercial break, I stood up, too.

“Gonna stretch my legs,” I told no one in particular. Mo lifted her head, but I gave her a quick scratch behind the ears and left her curled up on the blanket.

I followed the path toward our cabin, the string lights fading behind me as I stepped into the quieter darkness. The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

Diaz was already on his knees in the middle of the small room, looking up at me with hooded, hungry eyes.

Just like I asked.

I closed the door behind me, heart racing, and smiled down at him.

“Good boy.” I reached for my zipper. “Now, open.”

Left Field Secrets

by @PeteRoseCity9

RATING: Explicit

CATEGORIES: M/M, Multi

FANDOMS: Rose City Roasters RPF

CHARACTERS: Peter Diaz, Matty Miller, Roman Garcia, Jared Pink

ADDITIONAL KEYWORDS: Gangbang, Sloppy Seconds, Degradation, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism, Taking Turns, Anal Sex, Established Relationship (Diaz/Matty), Secret Sex Club, Team Orgy Fantasy #MIAZ

SUMMARY: In the secret sex club hidden beneath the left field bleachers, Diaz gets exactly what he’s been fantasizing about—getting used by the rest of his teammates.

The secret club beneath the left-field bleachers was nothing like the bright, loud stadium above. Down here, the lights were low and red, casting everything in a sinful glow. Low bass music thrummed through hidden speakers, but it was nearly drowned out by the wet slap of skin and broken, desperate moans.

Diaz was bent over a padded bench in the center of the room, knees spread wide, ass up. Roman stood behind him, thick cock buried deep, fucking him with rough, powerful strokes that made Diaz’s eyes roll back.

“Fuck, you’re tight tonight,” Roman growled, one hand gripping Diaz’s hip hard enough to bruise. “Taking me so good.”