Page 39 of The Battery

Cody

H ell yes , I thought as I walked into the clubhouse.

Hell fucking yes. The smell of leather, fresh linens, pine tar, and sweat.

Navy blue and bronze splashed on every available surface.

An endless line of teammates congratulating me on my return.

Perfect early September weather waiting for me when I went outside with everyone else.

It filled my chest with lightning. Pushed out the remaining bouts of pain that threatened to steal my breath every so often.

It felt like people couldn’t get enough of my presence. Even management came over to say hello and ask how I was doing. Our PR person wanted me to speak to a few folks who would be out on the field during practice. I wasn’t quite ready to throw yet but it was suggested I try and mime it.

Freddie got a chance to pull me to the side and ask for an update.

I, of course, texted him when I could while staying with Leo.

He assured me my room wouldn’t be given to anyone else, that he didn’t need money for rent, and that I could come back any time.

He winked and nudged me with his elbow after saying that.

In return, I assured him I’d be back as soon as the recovery was over.

That I was only staying with Leo until I could start throwing in earnest.

He didn’t believe me.

I didn’t believe me.

I hadn’t ridden in with Leo. He wanted to get to the stadium earlier than my sleeping aides would allow.

We had only spent that one night in the same bed.

I awoke overly sore and Leo insisted I stay in my room since he didn’t want me to rely too much on the pain meds while sleeping.

I never offered to have him come into my room since, in classic Leo fashion, I sensed a wall go up.

Another intentional separation that we both wanted to kick down, but Leo held on to.

I chalked it up to his fear of losing our chance at the pennant. And really, who was I to ruin that? I wanted to get back in shape faster, as well. I wanted to win this pennant with him, for Uncle Andy.

The game would start in two hours. Our time on the field would be up soon and I needed to get out there to make an appearance.

I was already wearing Riders-branded workout gear, so I made my way to the field.

Emma, our blond bombshell for PR, caught me the moment I waddled my way from the dugout.

By the batting net, I spied Leo and Rome taking turns hitting.

Leo stared me down like I had just stabbed his grandmother. All danger and loathing.

He winked.

Danger and loathing. But all for show. I grinned and he turned away with the hint of a smile on his lips.

“We’ve got two networks here,” Emma said as she walked alongside me. “Basic questions. Think you’re up for answering?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Yes or no?”

Her tone caught me off guard. “Um. Yes .”

“Good. Cody,” she said as we reached two camera crews and two reporters, “this is Shana Monohan and—”

“Christopher Bellamy,” I finished for Emma. Everyone knew Christopher. A former MLB star himself, he held the current record for the most consecutive games with a hit, at fifty-freaking-seven.

I grabbed Christopher’s hand emphatically. He stood near Leo’s height and had roughly the same build. At forty-five, the only sign of his age was the graying hair at his temples.

“Nice to meet ya, kid,” Christopher said. “Helluva arm for a rookie.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, suddenly enamored with the man. He was more handsome in person than he was on TV now that he was retired from the game.

“When do you think you’ll be back on the field?”

“Actually,” Shana interrupted, a petite woman with copper-colored hair. “Emma said I could get in some questions first. Do you mind standing right here so we can get the sun?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

“Can you tell us about when you remember waking up? What was it like having laid in front of a nearly packed stadium after you just almost died?”

The hell kind of question…

I looked at Emma, who gave me an encouraging gesture to answer.

“Um, well, it was scary. But, uh, y’know, I don’t remember too much.”

Shana launched into a string of questions that had nothing to do with my time as a pitcher or my ability.

Instead, she focused on the injury itself, and it almost felt like she was trying to make me relive one of the scariest, worst moments of my life.

I quickly learned to give lame, fumbled answers.

Maybe that’s what Emma was trying to teach me.

Finally done, Shana and her team left to peruse the field while Christopher shot his questions. He focused on my stats and surprised me with his knowledge of my time with the Mariners. I answered in full, no stumbling, and wanted him to keep going when the camera shut off.

The camera crew shuffled away, but Christopher remained. He leaned in close. “Saw your knuckleball. When you gonna debut it?”

I nearly leaped in place with surprise. Leo and I had been practicing that all summer before my injury. I had it perfected. The call was coded on PitchCom, but no one ever used it since knuckleballs were too unreliable for the game.

So how did Christopher know?

The Mariners , I realized. If he knew my stats and could rattle off some facts of my time there, he would have known or seen that I used my knuckleball a handful of times in those games.

“Word of advice, kid,” Christopher said as he leaned in closer, “save it for the perfect moment. Use it sparingly . Once or twice per season.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Christopher. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Advice from the veteran of veterans? Hell yes.

I made my rotation around the field just as the Riders’ time was almost up. The Jacksonville Barracudas would take to the field next for their own practice session while we recuperated in the clubhouse. I swung over to see Rome and Leo, who were chatting with a batting coach.

“First interview?” Rome asked as I approached.

I hadn’t realized it until he said that. I had been interviewed plenty of times with the Mariners, but this was my first time with the majors. “I guess so, yeah. And interviewed by Christopher freaking Bellamy. I mean wow.”

“Get used to it, Hill,” Rome said. He motioned for the batting coach to join him elsewhere.

Everyone slowly drained toward the dugout. Leo and I lingered to walk at the tail end.

“Gonna stay in the bullpen tonight?” Leo asked me.

“Was thinking about it. The Assholes aren’t really, I dunno, assholes anymore.”

“’Bout time.”

My eyes drifted to the mound, and I slowed my pace even more. Leo noticed my shift and stopped us completely. “What is it?”

Fear. That’s what. I swallowed. It wasn’t the time to give fuel to my nightmare of being struck again, though the odds were infinitesimally small.

Still.

“Nothing,” I said and pulled my eyes from the mound.

“It’s just… I haven’t been back out on the field since it happened.

” My brow dimmed and I scratched the back of my head.

“It’s funny, actually. I popped back out here no problem.

Walked around without issues. Gave my first big interview without being nervous.

They even asked me about getting hit. And then… then I saw the mound…”

To my surprise, Leo slung his arm over my shoulders. It was more of a bro move than amorous, true, but the proximity to him helped guide me from the field.

“Did you know I used to be terrified of getting into cars?” Leo said.

After the story he told me, I couldn’t blame him. “I can imagine, yeah.”

“Had no problem being around them. Getting in them? A different story.”

“So what did you do to fix it?”

Leo shook his head in his usual way, dismissive with a flare of condescension. Typical.

“How I fix things is different from how you fix things.” I saw something twinkle in his eye as he spoke, however. Did he have something planned? “We still have time. You’re not pitching tomorrow.”

“Feels like it,” I said as I hazarded one final glance at the mound before we drained into the dugout.

“Just focus on recovery, Hill,” Leo said. I sensed a “because I’ve got the rest,” lingering in the air, unspoken.

What did he have planned?

*

We made out at the top of the stairs like a couple of teenagers on a front porch.

Leo was gentle with me, though I could tell how much he wanted to unleash his desire upon me.

He pushed me, carefully, against the wall and held me there with a soft touch I knew he wanted to be firm.

His mouth opened fully as our tongues danced.

Both of his hands were on my ass while he had me backed into the wall, pinning me in place.

My stretches and regular PT allowed me to finally lift both arms over my head.

Finally—finally—I could wrap my arms around his neck.

“Which room?” I tried to ask between kisses. The ferocity of his engagement increased with every passing moment. Every time, a new threshold was reached before he somehow used his sixth sense to realize my pain tolerance was at its end.

“Leo,” I said, “which—”

His left hand was at my throat in a delicate hold.

His thumb extended to push my chin up to look at him.

He squeezed lightly and my entire body shivered.

I melted into his control. Two fingers crawled over my jaw, up my chin, and sank into my mouth.

Reflexively, I sucked them in. Leo’s right hand gripped my ass harder.

Then his fingers were out of my mouth, plunging down my shorts and hooked up into my ass. I gasped.

“We go,” he said in a heady, deep voice, “where I say we go.” He stepped back and, by extension, I moved with him.

He walked me down the hall toward my room, pushing me with his hand and wiggling his fingers every other step.

A had to stop to catch my breath halfway there.

In the doorway, he forced my shorts and boxers to the floor, my cock springing free.

He stood fully behind me now, face plunged into my neck as his right hand gripped my cock and pulled slowly.

Then he pushed me into the room. With the same gentle force, he had me face my bed where he shoved me down until my chest was on the mattress, legs and ass at an angle along the floor. He pressed his waist into my ass as he leaned over the back of me, elbows on either side to keep his weight off.

His lips were in my ear. “You okay?” he asked in a light tone completely at odds with his actions just a moment ago.

I nodded a yes. So far so good. No pain. Only ecstasy.

I heard him disrobe and wanted to look behind me, but he commanded me not to. I waited, dick throbbing, ass pushed out as I heard him jerk himself off for a moment. Then, slick fingers inside me.

Fuck. He used his own pre-come to lubricate his fingers. My body came alive with pleasure as he sought my prostate and rubbed at the perfect angle and rhythm. I moaned into the comforter of my bed.

He pulled his fingers out, then thudded his heavy cock between the cheeks of my ass. He slapped it a few times and I gyrated to entice him.

More gentleness, though the firmness of his grip told me how much he wanted to let loose.

He rotated me and helped me turn, though I didn’t need much of it.

In a heartbeat, my legs were up and on his shoulders at a good bend.

Flat on my back. This was strikingly similar to the position my physical therapist often had me in.

Not a coincidence.

Leo’s hard cock rested atop mine as he kissed my calves.

I stared at him, his dick leaking pre-come like a fucking faucet.

It just steadily came out of him like he was slowly coming.

I had seen this many times before, but it still never ceased to turn me on.

I reached down and used some as lubricant to jerk myself off.

I made a fist for his cock and he fucked it slowly while his hands rested on my legs.

We hadn’t had a conversation about full sex. Yet. It was in the cards. But once again, I sensed Leo’s strange reluctance at another progress point.

“Let me see you come,” Leo said. He dipped a finger inside me and moved the pad of his fingertip just right.

A wave of pleasure hit me and I jerked my cock suddenly faster.

My chest moved rapidly. I knew I had to make this quick before pain settled in.

I jerked myself harder, faster, Leo’s finger darting in and out of me, showing me how he’d fuck me when the time came.

My mouth dropped open. Eyes squeezed shut.

I hit ecstasy in a slow scream that reached a crescendo. Leo’s voice soon followed as he came seconds after me. Come decorated my body like paint thrown from a brush. I bucked my hips into myself, felt Leo grinding against me.

His lips were back on my legs, kissing me as he came down. I wanted him atop me, those lips slowly bringing me back to earth. Softly. Lovingly.

I opened my eyes. Leo’s chest slowed as he carefully let my legs down.

While I caught my breath, Leo disappeared into my bathroom to grab a hand towel.

He cleaned me up, then helped me to my feet.

He remained curiously silent, his gaze distant.

Internally, I warred with myself. I knew the feeling—spent, endorphins rushed out of the system, ready for sleep.

Often, men had no appetite for anything but sleep after sex and I didn’t want to corner him and ask about his feelings.

He grabbed his clothes off of my floor and gave me a quick peck on the corner of my mouth. “Breakfast date?” he asked as he pulled away.

I smiled. Gave him a kiss square on the lips. “Come down when you smell the bacon.”

He gave me another kiss. “Done.”

Then he was down the hall to his room. I slept well, as I often did in this magic bed he bought me. But I wanted more.