"Away Game" (Out of the Dark, 1985)
Dec. 21st, 2008 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
riptide_asylumTitle: Away Game
Rating: R
Summary: How to watch baseball, Riptide-style.
After a half hour sitting next to Cody on the queen-sized hotel bed, watching the Padres beat up on the Cubs, Nick has learned something new about his partner: hotel rooms make him horny.
He can tell by the way Cody's pushing his thigh up against Nick's, an arm on Nick's back, his hand lightly massaging the places that are always tight in Nick's neck. And that look he gets, the one that makes Nick want to hold his partner down and make him come holes in the wall; seeing it lets Nick know Cody's not in any way averse to the idea. Nick's not complaining: it's amusing to find something new in a guy you've known for 15 years. Hotel rooms. Huh.
Unless it's just that the Padres are winning for a change.
In the middle of the eighth inning the game goes to commercials and Cody stands up, stretches, and heads for the bathroom, casually pulling his shirt over his head as he goes.
Yep, thinks Nick, it's the hotel room. "You have to be half-naked to use the john now?"
Cody turns in the doorway, forearms still caught in the bright pink shirt, his torso a golden contrast against white jeans. "Just felt like a shower, Nick. This place is so much bigger than the Riptide, I figured we'd want to take advantage of it while we can."
Nick looks at his watch. "Cody, it's 3:30 in the afternoon."
Cody grins and disappears into the bathroom. Through the open door Nick hears him turn on the water in the tub. The game comes back on, bottom of the eighth now and Gwynn coming up to bat so the Padres might actually take this, and in the middle of a mouthful of beer, Nick hears the water change from tub to shower, then the unmistakeable sound of denim hitting linoleum. He looks at the game, two down already, Dallas Green heading to the mound to conference with Eckersley, their big closer, and the Chicago crowd growing restless--
Screw it.
Nick hangs his head for a second, then puts his half-empty beer on top of the tv and heads towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head on the way. Really Cody? he thinks. Bottom of the eighth and you need a shower right now?
Whatever irritation Nick's feeling disappears the minute he sees Cody, tan and wet and glistening. Cody's eyes are closed, face held in the spray, and Nick can't get out of his jeans fast enough.
Cody turns at the sound of the curtain rings singing and he's got that half-smirk again, the eyebrow letting Nick know he walked right into Cody's plan for the afternoon, and that they're definitely going to miss the end of the ballgame. Which ceases to be a thought when Cody pulls him under the shower spray, wrapping Nick's arms around his wet torso. They kiss while the water runs down, between and around them. Nick feels Cody's body aligned with his, his hard ribs and stomach pressed up against Nick's own, Cody's hands sliding down his back to cup his ass, and what Nick wants most right now is to see the expression on his partner's face, but the spray's in his eyes and as he turns his head Cody nips at his jaw, the wetness of his tongue barely distinguishable from the water falling all around them.
Cody breaks off suddenly, turning around and reaching for the tiny new bar of soap. Nick is left panting with desire, staring at his partner's back as he lathers up. Not that that's a bad thing, Nick thinks. He looks at all the tiny muscles in Cody's back and shoulders, beautifully defined and now wet and lickable and licking isn't even a verb strong enough for what Nick wants to do while watching Cody lather up. He steps forward and slides his hands around Cody's waist, the slippery soap lather causing his cock to twitch.
Cody yells, pulling away from Nick, who takes a quick step backward as his partner claws at his face, sputtering into the spray. "Babe?" Nick asks.
"Soap in my eyes," Cody explains, and Nick rolls his. He watches Cody scrub at his eyes with the palms of his hands, then shake his head in irritation like a big wet dog. The mood broken, Nick reaches past Cody for the tiny bottle of shampoo. Massaging his hair into a thick lather, Nick makes sure Cody's stopped yelping before turning sideways and trying to squeeze past him to rinse off.
"You in a hurry, buddy?" Cody asks.
"Eh, I figure I can still catch the end of the game, while you enjoy this big bathtub all by yourself."
Cody smirks. "Why'd you wanna see Chicago lose some more, Nick? They're nowhere near the pennant race."
"Says you. But part of being a Cubs fan is faith, Cody. You just gotta believe." Nick spreads his arms wide. "Eckersley, Sandberg and Cey? Come on, that's an unbeatable combination. Cey's gonna be a Hall of Famer all on his own, but you put him and Sandberg together? No way anyone can touch them."
"Really?" Cody cocks an eyebrow. "Seems like they didn't give San Diego a whole lot of trouble last year."
Nick stares, hands on his hips. "Cody? Leon Durham is gone. Off the team. Besides, one bad apple does not spoil an entire season."
"How many games is that losing streak of theirs now, eight? Not counting tonight, of course." Cody laughs. ".305 sure spells powerhouse to me, Nick."
".305? Sandberg? Try .504. With Cey's..." Nick catches Cody's expression and realizes he still has a head full of shampoo bubbles and is standing naked in the shower arguing about batting averages. Definitely one of his finer moments.
He can feel Cody watching him rinse away the shampoo, and he makes an effort with it, sucking his stomach in and spreading his legs a little wider than strictly necessary to get his hair clean.
Cody steps closer, ducking his head and running his lips up the side of Nick's neck, sliding a hand down Nick's stomach, then lower, between his legs. "What part of being a Cubs fan is this?" Cody asks softly.
Nick grins.
Despite the soap and lather their skins stick slightly, stomachs sliding together with a tiny hitch, and Nick puts his arms around Cody, running his fingers lightly over those tiny muscles in his partner's back. He kisses Cody urgently, feeling like a schmuck for the time spent arguing when it could have been spent doing this, both of them slick with soap, wet and happy.
Nick watches Cody he drops to his knees in the tub, the water spraying over and around him, sticking to him in a thick sheet, running down his chest and glistening in his hair. Cody runs a slick hand over one of Nick's thighs, and Nick groans at the contact of wet on wet.
Cody stops suddenly, looking up at Nick with an expression of such contentment, such happiness, that Nick nearly falls over and takes the curtain down. His partner's expression changes to smug, halfway between a challenge and a promise and then it's so on. Nick grips the soap dish for support.
Distantly he hears Harry Caray's voice from the other room. "Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win!"
Looking down, he has to agree.
Rating: R
Summary: How to watch baseball, Riptide-style.
After a half hour sitting next to Cody on the queen-sized hotel bed, watching the Padres beat up on the Cubs, Nick has learned something new about his partner: hotel rooms make him horny.
He can tell by the way Cody's pushing his thigh up against Nick's, an arm on Nick's back, his hand lightly massaging the places that are always tight in Nick's neck. And that look he gets, the one that makes Nick want to hold his partner down and make him come holes in the wall; seeing it lets Nick know Cody's not in any way averse to the idea. Nick's not complaining: it's amusing to find something new in a guy you've known for 15 years. Hotel rooms. Huh.
Unless it's just that the Padres are winning for a change.
In the middle of the eighth inning the game goes to commercials and Cody stands up, stretches, and heads for the bathroom, casually pulling his shirt over his head as he goes.
Yep, thinks Nick, it's the hotel room. "You have to be half-naked to use the john now?"
Cody turns in the doorway, forearms still caught in the bright pink shirt, his torso a golden contrast against white jeans. "Just felt like a shower, Nick. This place is so much bigger than the Riptide, I figured we'd want to take advantage of it while we can."
Nick looks at his watch. "Cody, it's 3:30 in the afternoon."
Cody grins and disappears into the bathroom. Through the open door Nick hears him turn on the water in the tub. The game comes back on, bottom of the eighth now and Gwynn coming up to bat so the Padres might actually take this, and in the middle of a mouthful of beer, Nick hears the water change from tub to shower, then the unmistakeable sound of denim hitting linoleum. He looks at the game, two down already, Dallas Green heading to the mound to conference with Eckersley, their big closer, and the Chicago crowd growing restless--
Screw it.
Nick hangs his head for a second, then puts his half-empty beer on top of the tv and heads towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head on the way. Really Cody? he thinks. Bottom of the eighth and you need a shower right now?
Whatever irritation Nick's feeling disappears the minute he sees Cody, tan and wet and glistening. Cody's eyes are closed, face held in the spray, and Nick can't get out of his jeans fast enough.
Cody turns at the sound of the curtain rings singing and he's got that half-smirk again, the eyebrow letting Nick know he walked right into Cody's plan for the afternoon, and that they're definitely going to miss the end of the ballgame. Which ceases to be a thought when Cody pulls him under the shower spray, wrapping Nick's arms around his wet torso. They kiss while the water runs down, between and around them. Nick feels Cody's body aligned with his, his hard ribs and stomach pressed up against Nick's own, Cody's hands sliding down his back to cup his ass, and what Nick wants most right now is to see the expression on his partner's face, but the spray's in his eyes and as he turns his head Cody nips at his jaw, the wetness of his tongue barely distinguishable from the water falling all around them.
Cody breaks off suddenly, turning around and reaching for the tiny new bar of soap. Nick is left panting with desire, staring at his partner's back as he lathers up. Not that that's a bad thing, Nick thinks. He looks at all the tiny muscles in Cody's back and shoulders, beautifully defined and now wet and lickable and licking isn't even a verb strong enough for what Nick wants to do while watching Cody lather up. He steps forward and slides his hands around Cody's waist, the slippery soap lather causing his cock to twitch.
Cody yells, pulling away from Nick, who takes a quick step backward as his partner claws at his face, sputtering into the spray. "Babe?" Nick asks.
"Soap in my eyes," Cody explains, and Nick rolls his. He watches Cody scrub at his eyes with the palms of his hands, then shake his head in irritation like a big wet dog. The mood broken, Nick reaches past Cody for the tiny bottle of shampoo. Massaging his hair into a thick lather, Nick makes sure Cody's stopped yelping before turning sideways and trying to squeeze past him to rinse off.
"You in a hurry, buddy?" Cody asks.
"Eh, I figure I can still catch the end of the game, while you enjoy this big bathtub all by yourself."
Cody smirks. "Why'd you wanna see Chicago lose some more, Nick? They're nowhere near the pennant race."
"Says you. But part of being a Cubs fan is faith, Cody. You just gotta believe." Nick spreads his arms wide. "Eckersley, Sandberg and Cey? Come on, that's an unbeatable combination. Cey's gonna be a Hall of Famer all on his own, but you put him and Sandberg together? No way anyone can touch them."
"Really?" Cody cocks an eyebrow. "Seems like they didn't give San Diego a whole lot of trouble last year."
Nick stares, hands on his hips. "Cody? Leon Durham is gone. Off the team. Besides, one bad apple does not spoil an entire season."
"How many games is that losing streak of theirs now, eight? Not counting tonight, of course." Cody laughs. ".305 sure spells powerhouse to me, Nick."
".305? Sandberg? Try .504. With Cey's..." Nick catches Cody's expression and realizes he still has a head full of shampoo bubbles and is standing naked in the shower arguing about batting averages. Definitely one of his finer moments.
He can feel Cody watching him rinse away the shampoo, and he makes an effort with it, sucking his stomach in and spreading his legs a little wider than strictly necessary to get his hair clean.
Cody steps closer, ducking his head and running his lips up the side of Nick's neck, sliding a hand down Nick's stomach, then lower, between his legs. "What part of being a Cubs fan is this?" Cody asks softly.
Nick grins.
Despite the soap and lather their skins stick slightly, stomachs sliding together with a tiny hitch, and Nick puts his arms around Cody, running his fingers lightly over those tiny muscles in his partner's back. He kisses Cody urgently, feeling like a schmuck for the time spent arguing when it could have been spent doing this, both of them slick with soap, wet and happy.
Nick watches Cody he drops to his knees in the tub, the water spraying over and around him, sticking to him in a thick sheet, running down his chest and glistening in his hair. Cody runs a slick hand over one of Nick's thighs, and Nick groans at the contact of wet on wet.
Cody stops suddenly, looking up at Nick with an expression of such contentment, such happiness, that Nick nearly falls over and takes the curtain down. His partner's expression changes to smug, halfway between a challenge and a promise and then it's so on. Nick grips the soap dish for support.
Distantly he hears Harry Caray's voice from the other room. "Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win!"
Looking down, he has to agree.
