fic: Ascendancy
Title: Ascendancy
Author: Brainzz_Insanee
Pairing: Beckett/Mussina
Team: Boston Red Sox/New York Yankees
Status: One-shot
Word Count: 4892
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. I wish I did.
Summary: Cures are sometimes where you least expect them.
Author’s Note: This is one of
cherazz22784‘s requests. First time writing any kind of baseball fiction. Not sure on Beckett, he’s sure interesting trying to write. I usually don’t write characters even similar to him but did what I could.
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His brown eyes glimmered, dark brown. They watched the amber liquid swish around in his glass without blinking. He put his finger in again, soaking the digit completely and sucking it slowly off of his finger. Yeah, he enjoyed his scotch. Mike glanced around then, looking around for anyone that would identify him and breathed a sigh of relief when no one immediate came into view.
Especially reporters. Even the possible questions they would ask him gave him a headache, causing him to put down more of his drink. They’d ask him why he was in a slump, if he himself thought he was in one, what happened to his pitch in the game not long before that made so-and-so hitter hit it out of the park, was he-- Tears barely prickled his vision. More scotch went down, it burned on it‘s way. Not like he’d stop though because damn did it feel good.
Suffice to say, he had paid the bar tender extra not to tell people he was right in the top right corner of the bar, hidden well in the dim lighting. His navy shirt clung to his chest partly and his black jeans did the same, his skin slightly damp from his shower earlier. He had come here right after the showers. The bar had been his escape as of late, beginning to think he was getting addicted to it.
He’d gone most of his career without screwing up much, besides his constant almost no-hitters over the years. Lately though, he was failing both his team and himself every fucking game he pitched. He clenched the glass tightly, almost wishing it would collapse in his grasp. It would be amusing if he could pitch better if glass was through his hand, he thought bitterly. He slammed it down on the table instead without realizing, drawing looks in his direction from the few individuals occupying the bar.
Mike smoothly looked to the side, pretending to be oblivious. His dark eyes dropped to his hands, calloused and rough. His left thumb ran along his right palm softly. He couldn’t do anything right, could he? As soon as the thought came into his head he swore under his breath. As much as he tried keeping the negative musings at bay, they kept coming back and reminding him of just how much he was sucking right now.
He chugged a little more, hissing at the amount. Mike’s gaze rose and found a very similar pair of eyes looking right at him across the room. Shaking his head, he dipped his finger down again into the amber liquid, skin warming further from the alcohol in his system. He swished it around, thoroughly amused by the whirlpool forming in it. After a couple minutes, he glanced back up, those same eyes still on him and goose bumps spread along his skin from it all.
Mussina couldn’t take the intensity, his dark brown gaze faltered.
He heard someone get into the booth with him, the seat squishing. He glanced up to find Josh Beckett there, across from him, with a few beers in his hands. Mike mentally groaned, not wanting to deal with the cocky pitcher at the moment.
“Mike, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nice to see you too Josh.” Mussina plainly replied, his tone stripped of emotion.
He didn’t even need to look up to know that Beckett was glaring at him, but he did anyway. Those eyes were full of fire, staring at him so hard that he could have sworn that they were going right through him. Josh was dressed in a simple green tee, most likely with a pair of jeans.
He shouldn’t care what he was wearing anyway.
“I asked you a question.” Josh retorted, chugging down some of his beer.
“If you don’t have anything important to tell me then leave, I don’t need you or anyone right now. I just want to drink until I‘m hammered.”
“Right, sitting on your ass and drinking is a great way to fix your pitching slump. More pitchers should follow your example. Best way to fix everything.” The Red Sox pitcher piped in, heavy sarcasm dripping from his tongue.
“I’m fine.”
“No Mike, you’re not. Far from it. You need help.” His tone was different; less clipped.
“I told you, I’m--” Mussina stopped his speech, fingers trembling by his drink. His eyes squinted shut and now he was fucking doomed because he was a sliver away from crying in front of Josh Beckett. He’d never live this down. His fingers finally stopped shaking and he hastily wiped the single tear that fell down his cheek. He put down more of his scotch. He was still swishing his finger in his drink, finally taking it out and simply watching some of the liquid drip back down into the glass.
“Told you, I do have a fucking brain you know.”
“I didn’t say otherwise smart ass.” Mussina said back, sucking the liquid off of his finger. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste as it fell along his tongue and down his throat. Mike sighed as it went down, the perfect tang and burn in taste. He felt eyes of him briefly but ignored the feeling. Most of the time he wouldn’t argue with Josh Beckett like this, but he had enough booze in him for him not to care one single bit. Plus, to say that he didn’t get any comments about his little emotion spill meant that Josh maybe actually wanted to talk to him. Shaking his head, he really was wasted.
“Why do you even care if I’m in a slump?”
“I give a fuck because you’re wasting away. And I’m going to be honest with you right now, so listen up. I’ve never seen such a talented pitcher so down, so get a fucking hold of yourself and do it now. I refuse to watch you in such a pitiful state. I don’t care what’s going on in your personal life, if that’s the cause, but get a hold of yourself before I do something about it.”
Mike raised those dark eyebrows mysteriously. “Unless you suddenly turn into me, and pitch better than there’s not really anything you can do for me.” He didn’t give time for the other pitcher to answer, instead standing up unsteadily and managing to walk over to the bartender. Taking a small wad out of his wallet, he handed it to the man and told him to keep the change.
His eyes squint when he walks outside, not realizing how late it was and he fumbles to find his keys. “Shit…” He mutters, having dropped them. Mike bends down to pick them up, grabbing it just before he’s yanked to the side alley. A car speeds by, honking obnoxiously and he covers his ears because the noise is too loud for his drunken state. His head falls onto the brick behind him, foggily opening his dark brown eyes. Josh is standing there, those huge arms of his holding him in place against the wall.
“You would’ve gotten yourself real fucked up Mikey, at least out for the rest of the season if you got hit by that car. Would‘ve busted up that pretty face of yours.”
There’s a grin on his face even as he describes this, and Mussina disregards his words. He attempts to stumble out of Beckett’s hold but knows he’s incredibly foolish to think he has any chance, but he tries anyway. The grip on his arms is close to painful, Josh’s form towering over his own.
“You can’t do anything for me.”
“You’re wrong, I can do many things to and for you.”
Mike blinks a couple times, the partial lighting in the alley sending a glow across the Red Sox pitcher’s face. For reasons unknown, when Josh leans toward him, he can’t stop staring. The taller man’s cologne enters his nostrils, and the scent of it makes his knees unable to stop from buckling. He doesn’t know why it’s affecting him and why he wants to keep smelling it.
Mussina blames the alcohol especially when Beckett suddenly grips him through his jeans. It makes him moan pathetically and arch his hips forward without restraint. Beckett laughs richly from this, repeating the action. It absolutely kills him when his body reacts to it further, his erection already straining underneath the jeans. His skin is scorching, all over his pale skin and he can’t recall the last time he had been this turned on. There was something about Josh Beckett that he couldn’t name but whatever it was, it was intoxicating beyond anything plausible.
“No-- I can’t… no.” Mike muttered under his breath helplessly.
“It feels fucking good, doesn’t it? The want, the need. The uninhibited desires.”
“I’m married… and I‘ve got--”
“Doesn’t matter. We all get a bit flexible and experimental in time playing this sport, though you were lucky Mike… it hasn’t hit you until now. I played around sooner” The words make him flush, cheeks turning a light pink and Josh chuckles almost darkly. “Bet you’re wondering who I’ve had some fun with, and how many huh?“ This time he doesn’t get another word in as the other pitcher pulls him along with ease towards his truck.
“Wa… Where-- Beckett…”
“Shut up and get in the truck, you’re drunk. I’m taking you back to my hotel room here so you don’t kill yourself driving home. Don’t think your wife take kindly to that.”
The drive is silent, besides from Josh swearing at slow drivers. The cowboy pulls up at one of the finer hotels in New York, walking by the main desk woman and towards the elevator. He’s tugging Mussina along, while Mike simply gazes around in a haze. He hiccups slightly, laughing soon after and Beckett is staring at him the whole time.
The stare is hot and he shivers involuntarily. His mind is beyond mashed up, unsure of how many scotches he put down.
“Who… You play…” Mussina trails off, licking his dry bottom lip.
“Curious now…” The other pitcher smirks in his direction, close to a mad glint in his eyes. He fiddled with his keycard, swearing the first time it didn’t work, pushing the door open with his frame. “Wouldn’t you like to know Moosey? A little jealous?”
“Huh?”
Beckett didn’t respond, roughly yanking him inside and pressing him against the door. The older pitcher glanced at his sides, the room dark around. The room was spinning but the image before his eyes was clear as day. Josh’s body was right in front of him, and Mike had considered himself straight until earlier that evening when his body surrendered to the other’s actions on his groin. Again, he blamed the booze. Those big hands of Beckett’s swept down and took hold of his ample ass, rising his body off the floor.
“Josh…” He replied, his voice a cross between a groan and a whimper. Beckett’s body crashed into his, lips descending too. The older man was easily held up by the Red Sox pitcher. Josh fiercely attacked his mouth, followed by his neck and shoulder. Waves of lust swept through him and suddenly found himself dropped, falling to the floor. Shaking his head, blinking rapidly, he searched for Beckett. His dark brown eyes dropped to the form walking away, seemingly mesmerized by the ass fitted well in the pants.
And there he went, getting harder.
“Stand and strip.”
Mussina’s eyes widened, wetting his dry lips and struggling to stand. He eventually succeeded, leaning back against the door for support. “You want me to do what?” The Yankees pitcher managed, kicking off his shoes without realization. His right hand wove itself through his dark hair too.
“Take your clothes off, I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life. Is that clear enough for you?”
He shakily nodded, not sure how he wound up in his position.
He was too smashed to really think about it.
Mike could feel Beckett’s stare on him the whole time, watching him strip. His pale fingers shakily reached down and pulled the dark blue top over his head then slowly removed the belt buckle. He wanted to stop and continue at the same time, a different feeling spreading through his joints. He was starting to see why guys experimented. Hesitantly, he paused and locked eyes with Josh once more. The demand in the younger pitcher’s eyes were unmistakable.
“Everything off. Pants too Moosey.”
He glanced down at himself, a light brown trail of hair going down his chest. His fingers ghosted over his own body to the waistline of his jeans, freezing there momentarily. His groin thought otherwise, prompting his hands to act and remove the last piece of clothing. Mussina groaned at the air on his open length, having decided to go commando after the game. The audible incoherent noise from Beckett lets a smirk creep along his features, glancing back up only to see that Josh was stalking towards him.
The air conditioning floating through the room should have him frozen to the bone but he was instead blazing. The lust in the taller man’s eyes had him stepping back. Mike could feel Josh’s gaze roaming his whole body, and suddenly he knew what prey felt when they were about to be attacked. He side-stepped, biting his lip involuntarily when Beckett’s pink tongue came out slowly and licked his bottom lip. Those strong hands roughly grabbed at his hips, pulling him flush to the taller man’s waist. His head fell back then, eyes rolling back feeling Josh‘s hard-on through the fabric separating.
The other man bit at his neck, all the way up to his jaw and took hold of his length in his hand. Again, he arched forward in a moaning mess. Josh was bringing out the worst in him. Blinking several times, his fingers hastily reached for the bottom of Beckett’s shirt whilst his eyes glanced up, the pair ever so judging and even amused. His hands were swatted away and the dark hair on the back of his neck was standing up. Sucking in a harsh breath, he slowly watched the Josh Beckett dropped to his knees and sent a dark smirk up in his direction.
His own eyes clouded over, his mouth moving but he couldn’t manage any words. Beckett trailed those hands up and down his creamy thighs, his knees wobbling under it all. Mike couldn’t take much more at this rate. “Stop teasing me.” The Yankee pitcher struggled out, grasping at the inky black hair and threading it through his fingers.
The other man simply grinned, “Tell me what you want.” Mussina groaned, raising his hands and pulling at his dark hair. He should have known that Beckett was this kind of guy, though he reasoned that he probably and normally didn’t think about this sort of thing. His body went to move but was reminded of it’s inability to, the hands on his hips were unwilling to let go.
“Josh, I don‘t-- please…” He begged before he realized the desperation in his tone. He was so hard that he couldn’t think straight anymore, though he didn’t start off with much brain power in the first place leaving the bar.
“Please what?”
“Fuck Josh… please just-- I can’t…” His lulled back again, blinking past the haze he was under. His brain jumps in multiple directions as Beckett grins maliciously, teasing his skin. The muscles in his thighs were tense, his toes curling into the carpet nervously. That mouth came a hair away from the area he needed it most to be, groaning in annoyance. All he could feel were those big hands at the top of his thighs, and Beckett’s hot breath by his cock. His own hands, frustrated, went for Josh’s green shirt again but this time the other pitcher stood up quickly, abruptly grasping both of his wrists and slamming them next to his head. The wall behind him didn’t feel sturdy enough, especially with Josh Beckett right in his face.
“Fucking tell me what you want, or you’re not getting a thing from me.”
The last string split in his head, and Mussina growled by his mouth. “Fine, you want to know what I want… I want you to fucking suck me so hard that I can’t talk tomorrow.”
The last thing he saw was one of those trademark Beckett victory smirks before those knees hit the floor once more. The pitcher torturously trailed his hands down Mike’s forearms, biceps and rubbing his thumbs over the nipples. His dark eyes vaguely made out the apparent contrast in their skin tones, his own pallid while Beckett’s was slightly sun-kissed. The older individual sucked in a sharp breath then, watching Beckett descend down and abruptly take him in his mouth. Mussina stammered incoherent words, grabbing at the inky hair below him and letting his hips work to their own accord. The remaining blood in his brain relocated to his groin, as the Red Sox pitcher deep-throated him immediately. Josh hummed against his cock, his hands stroking his balls and god, that tongue worked wonders. His knees collapsed on him, completely and utterly melted from the actions upon his body at the moment. Those hands caught up easily, pushing his frame back against the wall roughly and going around to grip hold his ass in place.
All the noises in the room, more specifically the obscenities and moans spilling from his lips were actually turning him on further. It didn’t cease in surprising him. It was then however, that Beckett laughed and the sweet vibrations traveled all through his body but more so of his groin. It had him spiraling. A strangled scream then ripped from his lungs shortly after, calling out Josh’s name loudly in a level that he never thought could possibly come from his lean body. The next few moments flew past his foggy eyes faster than reality, his body spent and dropping to the floor. When his dark chocolate eyes reopened, all he could see bent in front of him was a small trail of cum dribbling at the edge of Josh’s mouth.
Apparently his body enjoyed the sight, feeling himself get turned on. A thin layer of sweat ran along his form, making his pale skin shine and glow all at the same time. He took in several breaths over and over again, squinting as he attempted to open his eyes. Gradually, Mike managed to open his almost black eyes to find Beckett about a couple inches away. He wasn’t moving, causing his dark brows to rise considerably or as far as they could travel. The other man was simply staring at him, his eyes similar to onyx. The intensity in those eyes was too much for him, his gaze shifting to the side. It was seconds after that Beckett lunged forward and his mouth connecting with his own fiercely. Mike moaned instantly, musing if the man could do everything well. Josh’s hand clutched at Mussina’s dark hair on the back of his head whilst the other held his hip tightly, both bringing his body ever so closer.
“Josh…” Mike moaned against the other’s mouth. Beckett kissed harder, biting at his jaw and along his neck. The younger man’s hands were drifting down his back, feeling them glide down and suddenly grip his ass briefly. The action had him bucking his hips again, desperate and delirious for skin contact.
The next words flew from his mouth before his realization. “God damn it, just fuck me Josh. I want you to fuck me until I can’t breathe.” Josh actually stilled against him, and Mussina thought he actually went to far but the lust and like he said earlier, the unhibited desire was so overpowering in himself. A low groan emerged from Beckett’s throat, standing up and breaking away from him.
Mike took it the wrong way and began trying to pick up his clothes, urging his shaky legs to cooperate. Josh grasped his bicep in response, stilling his movements. He nervously glanced up to find those eyes impossibly black. There was confusion apparent in those depths though, perplexing him too. “What are you doing?” Beckett’s voice is surprisingly and suddenly lighter, a rapid jump from moments before. He thinks it’s obvious. He’s seen Josh Beckett’s anger on the field and especially the dugout. Mike doesn’t want to even wonder off the field. He’s silent to the younger pitcher, knowing that fear was present in his eyes but it won’t recede. There’s a different look in Josh’s eyes for a second, sure he would have missed it if he blinked and it’s not one he’s capable of defining. It wasn’t even there for a minute.
“Do you want me to fuck you or not?” Josh says, his tone husky and low.
All he could do was nod, the warmth spreading through his body rapidly. He made out hearing the other pitcher demanding he get on the bed, the fabric smooth on his ass as his legs hung off the end. When he glanced back up, Josh had taken off his shirt and whipped it across the room. It was obvious that Beckett worked out, not that he had doubted the fact. To his surprise though, there was barely hairs on the toned chest. The incredibly worked muscle in the arms made him thankful he himself was a pitcher and didn’t have to face Josh as a hitter. His thought process didn’t last much longer as the taller man dragged his pants down, kicking them away. Mike’s eyes traveled down from the tan stomach to the amazing thighs, them widening and darkening considerably at the standing erection of the other man. He licked his dry bottom lip and finally gazed up to meet Josh’s eyes, skin shivering from the look.
Beckett came closer, thus making him crawl up the bed further until his back hit the backboard. Josh smirked, making himself comfortable between his legs and grabbing hold of his cock, pumping it. His mouth dropped open, lower lip quivering in the slightest bit as his head fell back in one motion. The younger yanked his head up for a bruising kiss, biting at his lip and the grip on his dark hair tight. His hard-on slammed up against Beckett’s, eliciting deep moans from the both. With the left in his hair, Josh’s right temporarily moved from his cock to his thigh. The strong hand shifted it higher up before resuming previous ministrations, his breaths coming out ragged. Mussina’s eyes managed to open, and the sight of Josh Beckett gripping his cock had him closing them once more.
The hold loosened, and the whimpers from his mouth were unpreventable.
Mike’s body refused the concept of patience, instead sitting up partly to grip Beckett’s length in a one fast, tight grasp and marveling at the sight of his eyes rolling back. The expression on his face was rapture momentarily, gone within moments when Josh took hold of his hands and pushed his arms back until his arms hit the sheets below. Mussina had never seen those pupils as dark as they were now, clouded over with the want apparent in his eyes.
“God…” He murmured under his breath.
“He won’t save you right now.”
“Josh, fuck…I want you.”
The smirk was undeniable on his features as he replied, “I know.” It wasn’t long after that, or rather he wasn’t even sure on time frames anymore. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, not even the concept of time itself. Beckett reached over to the nightstand drawer, his fingers wrapping around the knob when he stopped and glanced back over.
“You sure Mike?” Josh whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Yeah… I want this, so badly. Fuck me raw.”
Josh didn’t need to be told twice, practically ripping open the drawer and pulling out some lube. The younger tugged off the cap, proceeding to fully slick up his length before tossing it to an unknown location. Mussina followed every movement in his vision, Beckett’s hands moving up and down as he spread the lube along himself. Josh grinned, noticing how drawn the man was to what he was doing. Mike took in a shuddering breath, his tone raspy with incoherent noises as Josh spreads the lube along his opening.
Josh gives him one last look, the eyes dark as night and it’s the last warning before the Texan slowly sheathes himself inside. His breath catches, dark eyes watering instantly whilst his fists clench the sheets on his side and head drops down on the pillow. The grip on his right thigh, hoisted on Beckett’s left shoulder, is tight enough to leave his thigh aching tomorrow but he couldn’t give a shit. Plus, he knows the rest of his body with be sore too anyway. He heard Josh groan then.
“You’re so fucking tight.” Beckett mutters, the look on his face indescribable.
Surprisingly, the last thing he can recall after that is Josh sweeping a thumb over his cheek and catching the tear that had trickled down. The unexpectedness of the action throws him for a loop but Josh pulling out of him again. It makes him whimper, delirious for the repetition and long forgetting his thoughts seconds before. Beckett’s back in quicker than he can blink and pounding into him without abandon.
The hand not holding his thigh, yanks his head up by his dark hair. The strands are damp with sweat. “I want to see you scream my name.” Beckett whispers then, in a rough tone that only makes him harder. He can’t reply, and for once, he doesn’t think Josh cares.
The sensation of when Josh hits him perfect is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It’s quick knowledge to the other pitcher though, deciding to consistently slam that spot. He’s rasping the man’s name under his breath within moments, the feeling in the pit of his stomach building rapidly. The hand previously on keeping his right leg in place comes down, those fingers of his trail torturously along his creamy thigh until they grab hold of his cock and send him to clouds beyond the ninth.
He’s gone first, hearing himself scream Josh’s name when the man both grips his length impossibly tight and pushes into him with full force. He’s never come to that height vocally; his throat beyond dry and hurting when he tries to breathe. Mike glances up to find Beckett glazed over, those haunting eyes all over his form. It’s then that he’s confused, squinting up through the sweat by his eye and noticing the strain on Josh’s face. Mussina bucks his waist, his hipbones digging into the other’s flesh and it’s the final straw holding Josh back from release.
To say that face was full of rapture was an understatement. The look on his face was beyond language, the head tilting back slightly and eyes shutting. Those lashes clung to the sweat on his cheeks. The fine sheen of sweat all over his body, the sight of all the muscles in his arms tightening and relaxing all in one minute was truly a vision.
“Fuck…” Josh moaned, guttural and baritone.
Beckett managed to pull out and roll partly to the side before crushing him. Mike closed his eyes, panting and hearing each breath in his head. His heart rate had never been so fast before. Mussina’s whole body was on fire to say the least, demanding more friction and more sleep at the same time.
When he blinked, Josh was on top of him again and elbows on either side of his head. He glanced up with a small smile even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. At least he wouldn’t have to pitch for a few days. Taking action, he pushed past his instinct to grimace at moving and sat up to thread his fingers slowly through the damp, inky black hair. Josh closed his eyes and his head leaned in his direction involuntarily, moaning lightly at the touch. Mussina, smiling, captured that full and asking to be sucked bottom lip with his teeth and nibbled on it a little before the other kissed him back fiercely. Somehow he pulled back, grinning at Beckett.
“Thanks… this is the help I needed. I‘ve been so wound up, thinking too much and I guess I lost sight of the concept to take it easy.”
“Told you I’d do something about it.” Mussina rolled his eyes at this, shaking his head in amusement. It was the typical kind of response from Josh Beckett.
“Yeah, whatever. Just stop talking.”
Josh laughed richly, a smirk following moments later. “Know what sounds good to me? You sucking me off this time.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“I know.”
Author: Brainzz_Insanee
Pairing: Beckett/Mussina
Team: Boston Red Sox/New York Yankees
Status: One-shot
Word Count: 4892
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. I wish I did.
Summary: Cures are sometimes where you least expect them.
Author’s Note: This is one of
cherazz22784‘s requests. First time writing any kind of baseball fiction. Not sure on Beckett, he’s sure interesting trying to write. I usually don’t write characters even similar to him but did what I could.
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His brown eyes glimmered, dark brown. They watched the amber liquid swish around in his glass without blinking. He put his finger in again, soaking the digit completely and sucking it slowly off of his finger. Yeah, he enjoyed his scotch. Mike glanced around then, looking around for anyone that would identify him and breathed a sigh of relief when no one immediate came into view.
Especially reporters. Even the possible questions they would ask him gave him a headache, causing him to put down more of his drink. They’d ask him why he was in a slump, if he himself thought he was in one, what happened to his pitch in the game not long before that made so-and-so hitter hit it out of the park, was he-- Tears barely prickled his vision. More scotch went down, it burned on it‘s way. Not like he’d stop though because damn did it feel good.
Suffice to say, he had paid the bar tender extra not to tell people he was right in the top right corner of the bar, hidden well in the dim lighting. His navy shirt clung to his chest partly and his black jeans did the same, his skin slightly damp from his shower earlier. He had come here right after the showers. The bar had been his escape as of late, beginning to think he was getting addicted to it.
He’d gone most of his career without screwing up much, besides his constant almost no-hitters over the years. Lately though, he was failing both his team and himself every fucking game he pitched. He clenched the glass tightly, almost wishing it would collapse in his grasp. It would be amusing if he could pitch better if glass was through his hand, he thought bitterly. He slammed it down on the table instead without realizing, drawing looks in his direction from the few individuals occupying the bar.
Mike smoothly looked to the side, pretending to be oblivious. His dark eyes dropped to his hands, calloused and rough. His left thumb ran along his right palm softly. He couldn’t do anything right, could he? As soon as the thought came into his head he swore under his breath. As much as he tried keeping the negative musings at bay, they kept coming back and reminding him of just how much he was sucking right now.
He chugged a little more, hissing at the amount. Mike’s gaze rose and found a very similar pair of eyes looking right at him across the room. Shaking his head, he dipped his finger down again into the amber liquid, skin warming further from the alcohol in his system. He swished it around, thoroughly amused by the whirlpool forming in it. After a couple minutes, he glanced back up, those same eyes still on him and goose bumps spread along his skin from it all.
Mussina couldn’t take the intensity, his dark brown gaze faltered.
He heard someone get into the booth with him, the seat squishing. He glanced up to find Josh Beckett there, across from him, with a few beers in his hands. Mike mentally groaned, not wanting to deal with the cocky pitcher at the moment.
“Mike, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nice to see you too Josh.” Mussina plainly replied, his tone stripped of emotion.
He didn’t even need to look up to know that Beckett was glaring at him, but he did anyway. Those eyes were full of fire, staring at him so hard that he could have sworn that they were going right through him. Josh was dressed in a simple green tee, most likely with a pair of jeans.
He shouldn’t care what he was wearing anyway.
“I asked you a question.” Josh retorted, chugging down some of his beer.
“If you don’t have anything important to tell me then leave, I don’t need you or anyone right now. I just want to drink until I‘m hammered.”
“Right, sitting on your ass and drinking is a great way to fix your pitching slump. More pitchers should follow your example. Best way to fix everything.” The Red Sox pitcher piped in, heavy sarcasm dripping from his tongue.
“I’m fine.”
“No Mike, you’re not. Far from it. You need help.” His tone was different; less clipped.
“I told you, I’m--” Mussina stopped his speech, fingers trembling by his drink. His eyes squinted shut and now he was fucking doomed because he was a sliver away from crying in front of Josh Beckett. He’d never live this down. His fingers finally stopped shaking and he hastily wiped the single tear that fell down his cheek. He put down more of his scotch. He was still swishing his finger in his drink, finally taking it out and simply watching some of the liquid drip back down into the glass.
“Told you, I do have a fucking brain you know.”
“I didn’t say otherwise smart ass.” Mussina said back, sucking the liquid off of his finger. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste as it fell along his tongue and down his throat. Mike sighed as it went down, the perfect tang and burn in taste. He felt eyes of him briefly but ignored the feeling. Most of the time he wouldn’t argue with Josh Beckett like this, but he had enough booze in him for him not to care one single bit. Plus, to say that he didn’t get any comments about his little emotion spill meant that Josh maybe actually wanted to talk to him. Shaking his head, he really was wasted.
“Why do you even care if I’m in a slump?”
“I give a fuck because you’re wasting away. And I’m going to be honest with you right now, so listen up. I’ve never seen such a talented pitcher so down, so get a fucking hold of yourself and do it now. I refuse to watch you in such a pitiful state. I don’t care what’s going on in your personal life, if that’s the cause, but get a hold of yourself before I do something about it.”
Mike raised those dark eyebrows mysteriously. “Unless you suddenly turn into me, and pitch better than there’s not really anything you can do for me.” He didn’t give time for the other pitcher to answer, instead standing up unsteadily and managing to walk over to the bartender. Taking a small wad out of his wallet, he handed it to the man and told him to keep the change.
His eyes squint when he walks outside, not realizing how late it was and he fumbles to find his keys. “Shit…” He mutters, having dropped them. Mike bends down to pick them up, grabbing it just before he’s yanked to the side alley. A car speeds by, honking obnoxiously and he covers his ears because the noise is too loud for his drunken state. His head falls onto the brick behind him, foggily opening his dark brown eyes. Josh is standing there, those huge arms of his holding him in place against the wall.
“You would’ve gotten yourself real fucked up Mikey, at least out for the rest of the season if you got hit by that car. Would‘ve busted up that pretty face of yours.”
There’s a grin on his face even as he describes this, and Mussina disregards his words. He attempts to stumble out of Beckett’s hold but knows he’s incredibly foolish to think he has any chance, but he tries anyway. The grip on his arms is close to painful, Josh’s form towering over his own.
“You can’t do anything for me.”
“You’re wrong, I can do many things to and for you.”
Mike blinks a couple times, the partial lighting in the alley sending a glow across the Red Sox pitcher’s face. For reasons unknown, when Josh leans toward him, he can’t stop staring. The taller man’s cologne enters his nostrils, and the scent of it makes his knees unable to stop from buckling. He doesn’t know why it’s affecting him and why he wants to keep smelling it.
Mussina blames the alcohol especially when Beckett suddenly grips him through his jeans. It makes him moan pathetically and arch his hips forward without restraint. Beckett laughs richly from this, repeating the action. It absolutely kills him when his body reacts to it further, his erection already straining underneath the jeans. His skin is scorching, all over his pale skin and he can’t recall the last time he had been this turned on. There was something about Josh Beckett that he couldn’t name but whatever it was, it was intoxicating beyond anything plausible.
“No-- I can’t… no.” Mike muttered under his breath helplessly.
“It feels fucking good, doesn’t it? The want, the need. The uninhibited desires.”
“I’m married… and I‘ve got--”
“Doesn’t matter. We all get a bit flexible and experimental in time playing this sport, though you were lucky Mike… it hasn’t hit you until now. I played around sooner” The words make him flush, cheeks turning a light pink and Josh chuckles almost darkly. “Bet you’re wondering who I’ve had some fun with, and how many huh?“ This time he doesn’t get another word in as the other pitcher pulls him along with ease towards his truck.
“Wa… Where-- Beckett…”
“Shut up and get in the truck, you’re drunk. I’m taking you back to my hotel room here so you don’t kill yourself driving home. Don’t think your wife take kindly to that.”
The drive is silent, besides from Josh swearing at slow drivers. The cowboy pulls up at one of the finer hotels in New York, walking by the main desk woman and towards the elevator. He’s tugging Mussina along, while Mike simply gazes around in a haze. He hiccups slightly, laughing soon after and Beckett is staring at him the whole time.
The stare is hot and he shivers involuntarily. His mind is beyond mashed up, unsure of how many scotches he put down.
“Who… You play…” Mussina trails off, licking his dry bottom lip.
“Curious now…” The other pitcher smirks in his direction, close to a mad glint in his eyes. He fiddled with his keycard, swearing the first time it didn’t work, pushing the door open with his frame. “Wouldn’t you like to know Moosey? A little jealous?”
“Huh?”
Beckett didn’t respond, roughly yanking him inside and pressing him against the door. The older pitcher glanced at his sides, the room dark around. The room was spinning but the image before his eyes was clear as day. Josh’s body was right in front of him, and Mike had considered himself straight until earlier that evening when his body surrendered to the other’s actions on his groin. Again, he blamed the booze. Those big hands of Beckett’s swept down and took hold of his ample ass, rising his body off the floor.
“Josh…” He replied, his voice a cross between a groan and a whimper. Beckett’s body crashed into his, lips descending too. The older man was easily held up by the Red Sox pitcher. Josh fiercely attacked his mouth, followed by his neck and shoulder. Waves of lust swept through him and suddenly found himself dropped, falling to the floor. Shaking his head, blinking rapidly, he searched for Beckett. His dark brown eyes dropped to the form walking away, seemingly mesmerized by the ass fitted well in the pants.
And there he went, getting harder.
“Stand and strip.”
Mussina’s eyes widened, wetting his dry lips and struggling to stand. He eventually succeeded, leaning back against the door for support. “You want me to do what?” The Yankees pitcher managed, kicking off his shoes without realization. His right hand wove itself through his dark hair too.
“Take your clothes off, I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life. Is that clear enough for you?”
He shakily nodded, not sure how he wound up in his position.
He was too smashed to really think about it.
Mike could feel Beckett’s stare on him the whole time, watching him strip. His pale fingers shakily reached down and pulled the dark blue top over his head then slowly removed the belt buckle. He wanted to stop and continue at the same time, a different feeling spreading through his joints. He was starting to see why guys experimented. Hesitantly, he paused and locked eyes with Josh once more. The demand in the younger pitcher’s eyes were unmistakable.
“Everything off. Pants too Moosey.”
He glanced down at himself, a light brown trail of hair going down his chest. His fingers ghosted over his own body to the waistline of his jeans, freezing there momentarily. His groin thought otherwise, prompting his hands to act and remove the last piece of clothing. Mussina groaned at the air on his open length, having decided to go commando after the game. The audible incoherent noise from Beckett lets a smirk creep along his features, glancing back up only to see that Josh was stalking towards him.
The air conditioning floating through the room should have him frozen to the bone but he was instead blazing. The lust in the taller man’s eyes had him stepping back. Mike could feel Josh’s gaze roaming his whole body, and suddenly he knew what prey felt when they were about to be attacked. He side-stepped, biting his lip involuntarily when Beckett’s pink tongue came out slowly and licked his bottom lip. Those strong hands roughly grabbed at his hips, pulling him flush to the taller man’s waist. His head fell back then, eyes rolling back feeling Josh‘s hard-on through the fabric separating.
The other man bit at his neck, all the way up to his jaw and took hold of his length in his hand. Again, he arched forward in a moaning mess. Josh was bringing out the worst in him. Blinking several times, his fingers hastily reached for the bottom of Beckett’s shirt whilst his eyes glanced up, the pair ever so judging and even amused. His hands were swatted away and the dark hair on the back of his neck was standing up. Sucking in a harsh breath, he slowly watched the Josh Beckett dropped to his knees and sent a dark smirk up in his direction.
His own eyes clouded over, his mouth moving but he couldn’t manage any words. Beckett trailed those hands up and down his creamy thighs, his knees wobbling under it all. Mike couldn’t take much more at this rate. “Stop teasing me.” The Yankee pitcher struggled out, grasping at the inky black hair and threading it through his fingers.
The other man simply grinned, “Tell me what you want.” Mussina groaned, raising his hands and pulling at his dark hair. He should have known that Beckett was this kind of guy, though he reasoned that he probably and normally didn’t think about this sort of thing. His body went to move but was reminded of it’s inability to, the hands on his hips were unwilling to let go.
“Josh, I don‘t-- please…” He begged before he realized the desperation in his tone. He was so hard that he couldn’t think straight anymore, though he didn’t start off with much brain power in the first place leaving the bar.
“Please what?”
“Fuck Josh… please just-- I can’t…” His lulled back again, blinking past the haze he was under. His brain jumps in multiple directions as Beckett grins maliciously, teasing his skin. The muscles in his thighs were tense, his toes curling into the carpet nervously. That mouth came a hair away from the area he needed it most to be, groaning in annoyance. All he could feel were those big hands at the top of his thighs, and Beckett’s hot breath by his cock. His own hands, frustrated, went for Josh’s green shirt again but this time the other pitcher stood up quickly, abruptly grasping both of his wrists and slamming them next to his head. The wall behind him didn’t feel sturdy enough, especially with Josh Beckett right in his face.
“Fucking tell me what you want, or you’re not getting a thing from me.”
The last string split in his head, and Mussina growled by his mouth. “Fine, you want to know what I want… I want you to fucking suck me so hard that I can’t talk tomorrow.”
The last thing he saw was one of those trademark Beckett victory smirks before those knees hit the floor once more. The pitcher torturously trailed his hands down Mike’s forearms, biceps and rubbing his thumbs over the nipples. His dark eyes vaguely made out the apparent contrast in their skin tones, his own pallid while Beckett’s was slightly sun-kissed. The older individual sucked in a sharp breath then, watching Beckett descend down and abruptly take him in his mouth. Mussina stammered incoherent words, grabbing at the inky hair below him and letting his hips work to their own accord. The remaining blood in his brain relocated to his groin, as the Red Sox pitcher deep-throated him immediately. Josh hummed against his cock, his hands stroking his balls and god, that tongue worked wonders. His knees collapsed on him, completely and utterly melted from the actions upon his body at the moment. Those hands caught up easily, pushing his frame back against the wall roughly and going around to grip hold his ass in place.
All the noises in the room, more specifically the obscenities and moans spilling from his lips were actually turning him on further. It didn’t cease in surprising him. It was then however, that Beckett laughed and the sweet vibrations traveled all through his body but more so of his groin. It had him spiraling. A strangled scream then ripped from his lungs shortly after, calling out Josh’s name loudly in a level that he never thought could possibly come from his lean body. The next few moments flew past his foggy eyes faster than reality, his body spent and dropping to the floor. When his dark chocolate eyes reopened, all he could see bent in front of him was a small trail of cum dribbling at the edge of Josh’s mouth.
Apparently his body enjoyed the sight, feeling himself get turned on. A thin layer of sweat ran along his form, making his pale skin shine and glow all at the same time. He took in several breaths over and over again, squinting as he attempted to open his eyes. Gradually, Mike managed to open his almost black eyes to find Beckett about a couple inches away. He wasn’t moving, causing his dark brows to rise considerably or as far as they could travel. The other man was simply staring at him, his eyes similar to onyx. The intensity in those eyes was too much for him, his gaze shifting to the side. It was seconds after that Beckett lunged forward and his mouth connecting with his own fiercely. Mike moaned instantly, musing if the man could do everything well. Josh’s hand clutched at Mussina’s dark hair on the back of his head whilst the other held his hip tightly, both bringing his body ever so closer.
“Josh…” Mike moaned against the other’s mouth. Beckett kissed harder, biting at his jaw and along his neck. The younger man’s hands were drifting down his back, feeling them glide down and suddenly grip his ass briefly. The action had him bucking his hips again, desperate and delirious for skin contact.
The next words flew from his mouth before his realization. “God damn it, just fuck me Josh. I want you to fuck me until I can’t breathe.” Josh actually stilled against him, and Mussina thought he actually went to far but the lust and like he said earlier, the unhibited desire was so overpowering in himself. A low groan emerged from Beckett’s throat, standing up and breaking away from him.
Mike took it the wrong way and began trying to pick up his clothes, urging his shaky legs to cooperate. Josh grasped his bicep in response, stilling his movements. He nervously glanced up to find those eyes impossibly black. There was confusion apparent in those depths though, perplexing him too. “What are you doing?” Beckett’s voice is surprisingly and suddenly lighter, a rapid jump from moments before. He thinks it’s obvious. He’s seen Josh Beckett’s anger on the field and especially the dugout. Mike doesn’t want to even wonder off the field. He’s silent to the younger pitcher, knowing that fear was present in his eyes but it won’t recede. There’s a different look in Josh’s eyes for a second, sure he would have missed it if he blinked and it’s not one he’s capable of defining. It wasn’t even there for a minute.
“Do you want me to fuck you or not?” Josh says, his tone husky and low.
All he could do was nod, the warmth spreading through his body rapidly. He made out hearing the other pitcher demanding he get on the bed, the fabric smooth on his ass as his legs hung off the end. When he glanced back up, Josh had taken off his shirt and whipped it across the room. It was obvious that Beckett worked out, not that he had doubted the fact. To his surprise though, there was barely hairs on the toned chest. The incredibly worked muscle in the arms made him thankful he himself was a pitcher and didn’t have to face Josh as a hitter. His thought process didn’t last much longer as the taller man dragged his pants down, kicking them away. Mike’s eyes traveled down from the tan stomach to the amazing thighs, them widening and darkening considerably at the standing erection of the other man. He licked his dry bottom lip and finally gazed up to meet Josh’s eyes, skin shivering from the look.
Beckett came closer, thus making him crawl up the bed further until his back hit the backboard. Josh smirked, making himself comfortable between his legs and grabbing hold of his cock, pumping it. His mouth dropped open, lower lip quivering in the slightest bit as his head fell back in one motion. The younger yanked his head up for a bruising kiss, biting at his lip and the grip on his dark hair tight. His hard-on slammed up against Beckett’s, eliciting deep moans from the both. With the left in his hair, Josh’s right temporarily moved from his cock to his thigh. The strong hand shifted it higher up before resuming previous ministrations, his breaths coming out ragged. Mussina’s eyes managed to open, and the sight of Josh Beckett gripping his cock had him closing them once more.
The hold loosened, and the whimpers from his mouth were unpreventable.
Mike’s body refused the concept of patience, instead sitting up partly to grip Beckett’s length in a one fast, tight grasp and marveling at the sight of his eyes rolling back. The expression on his face was rapture momentarily, gone within moments when Josh took hold of his hands and pushed his arms back until his arms hit the sheets below. Mussina had never seen those pupils as dark as they were now, clouded over with the want apparent in his eyes.
“God…” He murmured under his breath.
“He won’t save you right now.”
“Josh, fuck…I want you.”
The smirk was undeniable on his features as he replied, “I know.” It wasn’t long after that, or rather he wasn’t even sure on time frames anymore. He didn’t want to think about it anymore, not even the concept of time itself. Beckett reached over to the nightstand drawer, his fingers wrapping around the knob when he stopped and glanced back over.
“You sure Mike?” Josh whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Yeah… I want this, so badly. Fuck me raw.”
Josh didn’t need to be told twice, practically ripping open the drawer and pulling out some lube. The younger tugged off the cap, proceeding to fully slick up his length before tossing it to an unknown location. Mussina followed every movement in his vision, Beckett’s hands moving up and down as he spread the lube along himself. Josh grinned, noticing how drawn the man was to what he was doing. Mike took in a shuddering breath, his tone raspy with incoherent noises as Josh spreads the lube along his opening.
Josh gives him one last look, the eyes dark as night and it’s the last warning before the Texan slowly sheathes himself inside. His breath catches, dark eyes watering instantly whilst his fists clench the sheets on his side and head drops down on the pillow. The grip on his right thigh, hoisted on Beckett’s left shoulder, is tight enough to leave his thigh aching tomorrow but he couldn’t give a shit. Plus, he knows the rest of his body with be sore too anyway. He heard Josh groan then.
“You’re so fucking tight.” Beckett mutters, the look on his face indescribable.
Surprisingly, the last thing he can recall after that is Josh sweeping a thumb over his cheek and catching the tear that had trickled down. The unexpectedness of the action throws him for a loop but Josh pulling out of him again. It makes him whimper, delirious for the repetition and long forgetting his thoughts seconds before. Beckett’s back in quicker than he can blink and pounding into him without abandon.
The hand not holding his thigh, yanks his head up by his dark hair. The strands are damp with sweat. “I want to see you scream my name.” Beckett whispers then, in a rough tone that only makes him harder. He can’t reply, and for once, he doesn’t think Josh cares.
The sensation of when Josh hits him perfect is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. It’s quick knowledge to the other pitcher though, deciding to consistently slam that spot. He’s rasping the man’s name under his breath within moments, the feeling in the pit of his stomach building rapidly. The hand previously on keeping his right leg in place comes down, those fingers of his trail torturously along his creamy thigh until they grab hold of his cock and send him to clouds beyond the ninth.
He’s gone first, hearing himself scream Josh’s name when the man both grips his length impossibly tight and pushes into him with full force. He’s never come to that height vocally; his throat beyond dry and hurting when he tries to breathe. Mike glances up to find Beckett glazed over, those haunting eyes all over his form. It’s then that he’s confused, squinting up through the sweat by his eye and noticing the strain on Josh’s face. Mussina bucks his waist, his hipbones digging into the other’s flesh and it’s the final straw holding Josh back from release.
To say that face was full of rapture was an understatement. The look on his face was beyond language, the head tilting back slightly and eyes shutting. Those lashes clung to the sweat on his cheeks. The fine sheen of sweat all over his body, the sight of all the muscles in his arms tightening and relaxing all in one minute was truly a vision.
“Fuck…” Josh moaned, guttural and baritone.
Beckett managed to pull out and roll partly to the side before crushing him. Mike closed his eyes, panting and hearing each breath in his head. His heart rate had never been so fast before. Mussina’s whole body was on fire to say the least, demanding more friction and more sleep at the same time.
When he blinked, Josh was on top of him again and elbows on either side of his head. He glanced up with a small smile even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. At least he wouldn’t have to pitch for a few days. Taking action, he pushed past his instinct to grimace at moving and sat up to thread his fingers slowly through the damp, inky black hair. Josh closed his eyes and his head leaned in his direction involuntarily, moaning lightly at the touch. Mussina, smiling, captured that full and asking to be sucked bottom lip with his teeth and nibbled on it a little before the other kissed him back fiercely. Somehow he pulled back, grinning at Beckett.
“Thanks… this is the help I needed. I‘ve been so wound up, thinking too much and I guess I lost sight of the concept to take it easy.”
“Told you I’d do something about it.” Mussina rolled his eyes at this, shaking his head in amusement. It was the typical kind of response from Josh Beckett.
“Yeah, whatever. Just stop talking.”
Josh laughed richly, a smirk following moments later. “Know what sounds good to me? You sucking me off this time.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“I know.”