I once was lost
Title: I once was lost
Characters: Lenny DiNardo, Jon Lester
Rating: NC-17
Time: September 2009
Summary: DiNardo receives an invitation to go back in time
Author's note: After two years in the Oakland system, DiNardo signed a minor-league deal with Kansas City in December and pitched for the first time in the majors against the Red Sox in September. For background on this particular fic, see "The Sea of Discovery" Part one: http://community.livejournal.com/theboysofsummer/130892.html#cutid1
and Part two: http://community.livejournal.com/theboysofsummer/131174.html#cutid1
Disclaimer: A fictional story, written only for entertainment purposes
Lenny DiNardo was dressing morosely in front of his locker when the small, folded piece of paper appeared in front of his face, held out wordlessly by a clubhouse attendant.
"What?" he started to ask, but the attendant had already withdrawn. Lenny shrugged and opened the paper.
Rm 614
Tonight
JTL
Lenny stared for a long moment, then crumpled the paper in his hand, closed his eyes, and smiled.
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He offered up silent thanks that the hotel hallway was empty; he really didn't feel like engaging in awkward conversation with any former teammates. Especially Varitek, or, God forbid, Beckett. Thankfully, when Lenny knocked softly on the door marked 614, it opened almost instantly, as if its occupant had been waiting with his hand on the doorknob.
"LENNY!"
Jon Lester pulled him into the room and into his arms in one swift motion; Lenny felt overwhelmed by his sheer bulk and power. Little Jonny sure as hell isn't Little Jonny any more. And then Jon's lips were on his, large hands tangling in Lenny's curls, and Lenny could feel his knees buckling as a weird feeling of role-reversal deja vu washed over him.
"Jesus, Jon." Lenny finally managed to break free, looking up -- looking up? Last time, hadn't they been eye-to-eye? He could have sworn to it -- at the boy who was now by every measure possible a man. "It's... it's good to see you."
"See me?" Jon's eyes twinkled. "Hope you want to do more than just see me, Lenny."
"Uh..." DiNardo was flummoxed. "Where... um... what about Josh? And didn't you... get... um...."
Lester shrugged. "Yeah. That a problem?"
DiNardo shook his head. "Not with me, Jon, you know that. But... Josh?"
"Josh...." Lester considered a moment, opened his mouth, closed it, then looked away. "Things are different."
"You're telling me it's none of my business," Lenny said.
"Something like that," Jon said. "You wanna go, that's OK."
"You crazy?" Lenny asked, feeling his face split into a stupid grin.
"You always said I was," Jon said, grinning back.
"That was a long time ago."
"Feel like turning back the clock?"
"Jesus," Lenny said, feeling his flesh prickle into goosebumps. "Hell yeah, Jonny. More than anything."
Instantly, Lester dropped to his knees and started pulling at DiNardo's belt. Lenny staggered back against the wall, grabbing at Jon's shoulders. "Jon--" he choked out. Lester paused and looked up. "What?"
"Jon... you...." Lenny knew he was never going to be the smartest guy in the room, but he did have a well-developed sense of his station in life, and the way he looked at it, it just didn't seem right that a AAAA pitcher was going to get his cock sucked by the best lefty pitcher in baseball. Even if it was his little Jonny. Used to be, he reminded himself. In baseball terms, that had been a lifetime and a thousand lost connections ago.
Lester seemed to understand -- how could he not? Didn't he know Lenny more intimately than any other human on the planet? Even better than Huston -- and Lenny had loved Huston, blindingly; the pain of losing him was something he still couldn't deal with, so he didn't. Jon just yanked Lenny's jeans down roughly, said, "shut the fuck up and enjoy, DiNardo," and took his rapidly swelling cock into his mouth with one swift motion.
"Uuunnnnhhh," Lenny moaned, sliding his hands over Jon's close-cropped head; that was the only difference -- Jon's hair was so much shorter. But his lips felt the same, his teeth scraping over his shaft, his tongue -- Oh God, his tongue -- slipping along the bottom of his cock, edging into the slit, teasing out the precome. Then he was moving again, sliding Lenny's length down into his throat, clutching at Lenny's ass, until Lenny was whimpering and shaking and then Jon suddenly stopped and looked up.
"Top or bottom?" he asked.
"Gpblixrmvmg," Lenny said, and Jon chuckled and stood up, pressing himself against Lenny's thrumming body, sliding his tongue along his jawline. He pushed his hips into Lenny's, humping him against the wall, once, twice, three times. Lenny clutched at him. "You want me to fuck you," Jon whispered in his ear. Lenny nodded dumbly, clutching at him, hard. Jon slipped his hands under Lenny's ass, slid him along the wall, turned, and dropped him on the bed.
Lenny pulled frantically at his clothes, his heart hammering, as he watched Jon strip and pull a condom out of his pocket. He felt a quick stab of sorrow at the need for a condom, then dismissed it as Jon reached for a bottle on the bedstand and lubed his cock. Now on the brink, they had slowed almost to the point of immobility, and they stared at each other, Lenny on his back, legs wide, Jon kneeling between them, his sheathed cock vibrating with excitement. Their chests heaved. Lenny bit his lip, then reached up and traced a line along Jon's jaw. "My Jonny," he said quietly.
"Lenny," Jon said, just as quietly. Then, lining his cock up carefully, he shoved, the power of his massive thighs and ass driving Lenny down into the bed. DiNardo cried out; Jon wasn't just bigger; he was even hungrier, more powerful, rougher. Lenny had thought nothing could match what had happened between them years before. He was wrong. It was better.
He wrapped his arms and legs around Lester, clawed at him, pulled him inside, felt Jon shuddering as his orgasm approached, felt his own building in turn, bit his shoulder, dug his heels into Jon's back, and came in great waves, his cock spurting a flood across his chest, feeling Jon's cock jerking in time with his hips, the breath shuddering in his lungs.
Lenny clung hard, unwilling to let go, realizing in that moment why the French call orgasm le petit morte. If he could choose the moment, this would be it. Because this was the gate of heaven.
At last, Jon lifted his head and smiled, crookedly. "Just like old times."
"Yeah," Lenny said. "But better."
"Too bad we don't have any wine."
"Next time," Lenny said, then wondered. Would there be a next time?
"You gonna stay in KC, Lenny?" Lester asked, peeling himself off DiNardo's body and heading for the bathroom.
Lenny shrugged as Jon returned with a towel and bent over to wipe his chest. "I dunno, Jon. I might... I might be done, you know?"
Jon paused in his ministrations. Lenny thought he wanted to protest, but Jon was never the type to offer false cheer. He could see what Lenny could -- his pitching was the suck, and he had moved into his 30s. There was no sugar coating it. It could very well be over.
"You ever need anything..." Jon started to say, looking away, his cheeks reddening.
Anyone else, and Lenny would have taken instant offense, but not Jon. "I won't," he said. "But thanks."
"OK," Jon said, tossing the towel aside. "You wanna stay over?"
"Fuck yeah," Lenny said, climbing onto the other bed, pulling down the covers. He paused as Jon put a hand on his shoulder.
"There's only one thing, Lenny."
"Yeah?"
"No matter what, let's stay connected, OK? I don't ever want to lose you again."
"You won't." Lenny kissed Jon hard and pulled him into the bed, throwing the covers over them both, wrapping his arms and legs around him before reaching up to snap off the light, hearing the familiar sharp chuckle and feeling dizzy once again as the years dissolved in the darkness.