Double Play (Hit and Run Book 3), page 20
“We don’t need to do this again if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Orion quickly shook his head. “I just don’t want you to suffer.”
“Suffering is part of life,” Hervé said. He understood it in more forms than he wanted to think about, but it was less heavy now that he understood he could be happy. That things didn’t have to be hard and miserable and wanting. “It’s easier when I have you.”
“Well, good. Because you do. You have every single piece of me.”
Hervé closed his eyes and just basked in those words because he’d gone most of his life believing that he didn’t want to hear that or need it. That it would make him weak—that it would just give him a bigger soft underbelly where more people could hurt him.
But now, those words—that promise—made him feel strong. It made him feel untouchable.
“Je t’aime.”
“I know that one,” Orion said very quietly.
Hervé smiled back at him. “Good. Because I do.”
21
It felt a lot like the first time he set foot out onto the Vikings’ field for the first time. His first starting game had been at night—a cool spring evening at the start of the season. Moths were everywhere, the crowd was massive, the music pumping through the speakers.
“Take Me Out to the Ball Game” had been blaring through his ears as he’d rolled his shoulders back and met James’ gaze.
‘You’ve got this,’ he mouthed. He’d only been on the mound with the Vikings a couple of years longer than Orion had been, and their careers were almost evenly matched. But Orion didn’t feel like he belonged, like he was wanted, until that moment.
James wasn’t angry that Orion was starting. He was proud.
That was how it felt now, except James was at his side and squeezing his shoulder and leaning in toward his ear. “Kill those motherfuckers.”
They were playing the Lightning—a more friendly rivalry than some of the other teams, but James understood what was riding on this game for Orion. Everyone was watching, and even some of their fans kind of wanted him to fail. They wanted that public display because they didn’t really understand that he was a person behind the pitcher.
That he had love, and loss, and pain, and anger, and happiness just like them.
He was rich, and he was famous, and some of them believed he had no right to struggle.
But he wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction. Not tonight, and hopefully not ever.
Glancing over at Pietro, who was speaking furiously with Weber, he met his friend’s gaze and Pietro nodded at him. That simple gesture was enough to fill that gap of nerves that had been creeping up his spine and making his fingers tingle.
They didn’t have to win tonight. He didn’t need to pitch a no-hitter. He just needed to prove to himself, to Carey, who was watching from wherever the hell he was, and everyone else who cared about him, that he wasn’t giving up.
Taking a breath, he approached the mound, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. His hands were a little chalky and dry, and he rolled the ball between his fingers to loosen his knuckles a bit. His glove flexed in his hand as he stretched his palm, and he began to circle his arms.
No one was up to bat yet, but Luke was behind the plate, staring at him. He felt settled. His gaze swept the crowd, lingering on the fans who all blended together in a mass of faces he’d never be able to pick out of a lineup. He glanced over at the front row, where Thierry and Ridley were seated, leaning in to talk to each other like they always did.
Then his heart stuttered in his chest when he realized the dark-haired man beside them wasn’t a stranger.
It was the other piece of his heart.
Hervé was sitting up in his seat, straighter now because he realized that Orion could see him. He rose slowly, and in his periphery, Orion saw someone heading up to the plate, but he couldn’t stop staring. Hervé’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, and then he nodded and backed up, sitting down.
Orion felt like his heart was going to hammer straight out of his chest. He held up a finger, making the ump frown, but he jogged close and jerked his head over for Luke, who quickly joined him.
“Uh, what the fuck?”
Orion bowed his head to hide his lips from the cameras. “He’s here. I don’t know how the fuck…but he’s here.”
Luke blinked behind his mask, then his eyes widened. “Hervé?”
Orion nodded sharply. He took a breath, then glanced at Hervé over Luke’s shoulder. “If I strike this fucker out, toss the ball to him.”
Luke sighed, but Orion could see his grin. “Cheesy motherfucker. Gonna write a proposal on the ball? I have a Sharpie if you want it.”
Orion could hear Weber screaming at him, but he ignored him. “No, but I’ll have something else. Just…will you?”
“Yes, you disgusting piece of shit. Now, let’s go.” Luke slapped the back of his glove on Orion’s side, and then they both jogged back.
The mound seemed like it was impossibly high off the ground, and the weight of the ball was strange in his hand. But he also felt powerful. He wouldn’t do anything ridiculous like take it as a sign if he couldn’t manage this first strikeout, but he had hope burning in his chest.
“Help me out here, bud,” he murmured to the spirit he knew wasn’t watching. He felt Carey’s presence anyway. “You said as long as I ended up back here, you’d do this for me.”
He took a breath, then wound his arm back, his leg rising toward his chest. Luke’s fingers told him curveball, so that’s what Mansen got. It sailed over the plate, just barely missing the edge of his bat.
“Strike one!”
Orion’s heart beat harder as the ball hit his glove. He didn’t dare look at Hervé for the second. Curveball, Luke told him again. It was a gamble, but Mansen probably thought he’d change it up since it wasn’t his strongest pitch. His shoulder tensed, and his arm whipped forward, and the ball sailed past the bat.
“Strike two!”
Orion caught the ball and turned away from the crowd for a second. He could see Pietro hovering to his left, concerned, but Orion ignored him. “I love him, Carey. So much. I didn’t wallow, and I held up my end of the bargain. Now’s your chance to hold up yours.”
He turned around, adjusting his stance, and then he met Hervé’s gaze, smiling when he saw his lover was on his feet, looking a little pale. Orion lifted the ball to his lips and pressed a kiss to the center. He felt the collective shift in the crowd, and he knew the commentators were probably freaking the fuck out.
The thought made him smile even wider, and he met Mansen’s eyes, who looked like he was worried Orion was about to strip naked and streak around the field. Luke was howling laughing behind his mask, but he still dropped the signal.
Submarine pitch.
Orion’s grin turned a little mean as he curled the ball into his glove and twisted his body. Mansen’s eyes hardened beneath his helmet, more determined than ever.
But the fucker wasn’t going to get this one.
Orion breathed, pulled his arm back, twisted his body, and threw the ball. It sailed impossibly low to the ground, skimming the plate and landing neatly in Luke’s glove.
“Strike three!”
The crowd was screaming as Mansen threw his bat angrily, and Hervé was on his feet, rushing forward as Luke turned and the ball went sailing over the short wall. Hervé’s mouth opened in a perfect O, and Orion knew every single camera was pointed at him as his hands fumbled and caught it.
He held it close to his chest as he stared at Orion across the field, his mouth stretched impossibly wide.
‘I love you.’
Hervé flushed. ‘I love you too.’
22
“That was…ah. That was quite a…uhf…a spectacle.” Hervé was already struggling with his words, and Orion grinned against the fleshy globes of his ass as his tongue teased him. Pretty soon he’d start losing his English, and then his French, and he’d be nothing more than a mess of pleading noises.
Exactly like Orion wanted.
Orion felt some type of way about finally having Hervé spread out on his bed, his legs in a wide V, his hard, leaking cock pressed against the sheets as his fingers clawed into the fabric. Orion had been taking his time with the man, but even he was starting to get restless.
His hand reached down and cupped Hervé’s balls as he plunged his tongue deeper, fucking him with his mouth until Hervé was sobbing. Rolling the rough skin against the palm of his hand, Orion pulled back and pressed a hard kiss to the left side of his ass.
“More?”
“I want you,” Hervé gasped. He tried to get up onto his knees, but Orion held him down by the small of his back.
“You’ll have me, sweetness, but you have to lie there and take it. I have a lot of promises to keep.”
“You don’t,” Hervé said and hissed through his teeth when Orion pressed the pads of his first and middle finger against his sloppy, wet hole. “Not all…at once,” Hervé managed.
Orion grinned and leaned down, kissing the small of his back. “Trust me, this is just the start.” He pulled back, watching Hervé for signs that he was starting to slip into sleep or cataplexy, but for the moment, he seemed fine.
It was something to work around and work through, and Orion knew that their lives together would never be normal, but he was fine with it. Normalcy was the last thing he wanted. He liked the chaos, so long as it came with Hervé crawling into his bed at night with the promise on his lips that he’d stay.
Reaching for the lube, Orion carefully coated his fingers, then eased one in, listening to the way it made Hervé gasp. His body was almost painfully honest, helpless against responding when he felt good. Orion knew it was because no one had ever taken their time with Hervé before. No one had ever gotten to know what made his toes curl and his breath stutter and his eyes roll back in his head.
No one had ever stopped to appreciate how agonizingly beautiful Hervé was in the throes of passion.
And he was glad of it—in a way. He was glad it could be him, that he could hoard all of this to himself. He wasn’t a man that liked sharing, and while Hervé had an entire lifetime of experience, there were still some firsts.
Like the I love you they shared and the eventual I do that would come because Orion was damn well going to marry this man.
With that thought wrapped around him, Orion reached over and grabbed the condom from the bed, tearing the packet open with his teeth. He wasn’t great doing things one-handed, but he kept fucking Hervé—two fingers now—as he rolled it on and gave himself a few good strokes before he moved to kneel between Hervé’s spread thighs.
“I’m going to fuck you now, baby.”
“Ouais,” Hervé breathed out, a bit limp like he’d given up all the fight. He tried to crawl onto his knees again, but Orion shoved him back down. “Chéri,” he protested.
Orion rocked up toward Hervé’s head, leaning in to kiss him. It was awkwardly angled and messy, but he didn’t care. He tasted sweet and sour and absolutely perfect. “Trust me.”
Hervé relaxed again. “I do.”
Orion leaned back, spreading Hervé’s cheeks wide, and then he positioned his cock and rocked in gently. Hervé groaned so loudly Orion was pretty sure his neighbors could hear, but he didn’t give a shit. He was making his lover moan. He was making him gasp and cry and beg.
He rolled his hips forward and used a firm grip on Hervé’s hips to finally lift him. Hervé let out a sharp breath as his hands hit the bed to brace himself, and Orion quickly curled his hand around Hervé’s weeping cock as he slammed home.
“Putain,” Hervé gasped.
Orion grinned and began to thrust shallow, hard, rolling his hips and sending Hervé rocking on his arms. It was so much—maybe too much because he wasn’t going to last, but it was hard to care because neither was Hervé. His arms were trembling, and his cock was pulsing against Orion’s palm as he stroked it, and his mouth was curving around words in French that Orion didn’t understand.
“Louder, my love,” Orion ordered as he sped up his thrusts, his hand matching the speed.
“Ah. Ah… je veux…je veux que tu jouisses.”
“Again,” Orion said, going faster.
Hervé groaned loudly and shook his head, but he repeated himself.
Orion laughed in spite of the fact that he could feel his orgasm rolling in like a hurricane. His fingers were starting to tingle, and his chest was hot, and his balls were so fucking tight. “Tell me,” he said.
“Come,” Hervé gasped. “Please. I want you to come!”
And as if his body was built to obey, Orion did. He thrust rabbit-fast into his lover’s ass, filling the condom with pulse after pulse. As he collapsed on Hervé’s back, it was only then he noticed the streaks of semen coating his fingers, and he let go in time for the both of them to collapse on their sides.
For a moment, he thought maybe Hervé had gone into cataplexy again, but after a beat, Hervé’s hand laid over his. Their breathing matched softly, and Orion felt the edges of exhaustion creeping in.
“My love,” he murmured.
Hervé didn’t say anything. He just squeezed his fingers and held on tight until Orion finally succumbed to the darkness creeping in.
It felt like hours later when Orion woke with a gasp, and he realized the spot in the bed beside him was empty and cold. His blurry eyes caught the alarm clock on his nightstand, telling him it was just past two, and he rolled out of bed in a near panic because he wasn’t supposed to be alone.
Not now.
And maybe that was Hervé’s way of getting back at him, but that was just his anxiety talking as he hustled out of the bedroom and made his way to the kitchen. There was no one there, but it was obvious the kettle was used, and after a second, he caught a glimpse of the porch light.
Taking a steady breath, Orion opened the back door and let his eyes adjust, eventually finding Hervé on the massive wooden swing James had talked him into getting. It was set in a huge frame, a daybed on thick chains, and Hervé was sitting in the center with his knees to his chest, his hands around a mug.
He looked up when Orion crossed over the grass, and he smiled softly, shifting over. The swing began to move as Orion’s bulk climbed on, and Hervé let out a soft laugh, nestling close the moment Orion got comfortable.
“Did you miss me?”
“I panicked that you were gone,” Orion admitted.
Hervé’s expression went a little pinched and annoyed at first, but then it settled into understanding. “You know I wouldn’t leave. Not like that.”
Orion nodded. He reached over and urged Hervé to lay his legs out flat, and when he did, he twisted his body to lay his head on his lover’s thigh. Hervé smiled down at him and threaded fingers through his hair. “I can be an idiot some days. How do you say idiot in French?”
“Idiot,” Hervé said with a grin, and then he shrugged. “Or you can call someone quiche.”
“Like the egg thing?” Orion asked.
Hervé burst into laughter. “We’re French, okay? We love to bring anything back to food.” His fingers slid down Orion’s thigh, then cupped the side of his ass. “Cul comme une pêche.”
“Pêche?” Orion repeated quietly. “Peach?”
“Ass like a peach,” Hervé said.
Orion rolled his eyes. “I hate to tell the French this, but peach isn’t clever. What do you think that emoji is for?”
Hervé laughed again, then leaned over to set his cup on the thick armrest. When his hands were free, he leaned back, so Orion adjusted himself so their legs were hanging off the edge, their faces pointed at the sky. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the worry stone, running his thumb over it before holding it up for Hervé to see.
“My sister had it made with his ashes,” Orion explained after a long beat of silence. “Do you think that’s creepy?”
“I think people have done worse. The church displays the bones of saints for people to pray to,” Hervé said quietly. “At least this is personal.”
Orion blew out a puff of air. “I miss him. I fucking miss him so much.” Hervé said nothing, but he shifted closer and pressed a kiss to Orion’s shoulder. “You know how, like, if the moon were to move even a fraction closer to the Earth, it would change the tide?”
“Mm.”
“Not a lot. Not if it was just nudged closer. Most people probably wouldn’t notice, but people who had homes on the shores might. People who spend their lives studying the tides—they’d notice.” Orion rubbed a hand down his face, grasping for his metaphor. “Very few people care that he’s gone. I’ll pass a stranger in the street and think, they never met him. His death means nothing to them, but somehow, it devastated me.”
Hervé reached between them and threaded his fingers through Orion’s, pulling his hand up, and kissed his knuckles. “I wish I could help your pain.”
Orion shook his head, then slipped the stone back into his pocket. It was a small, comforting weight. “I read a thing online that said the pain never gets smaller, but the space which you hold it grows bigger. I think I’m starting to get that a little bit now. There’s room for other things.”
“Like?”
Orion turned his head and looked at Hervé for a long moment before leaning in to kiss him. “Like you. Like falling in love. Like finding places to take you on dates and feeling good about wins and bad about losses. Like waking up in the morning and not thinking about him until after my morning coffee.” He went quiet for a long moment. “I wish I could have given you the better part of me.”
“There is no better part of you,” Hervé said, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s just all of you, and that’s what I want.”
Orion closed his eyes and let those words sink under his skin. That’s exactly how he felt, but he wasn’t sure Hervé was at a place where he could hear that and believe it. Not yet. So he chose patience, leaning in to steal another kiss.
Hervé let out a quiet, happy hum as their lips lingered together, then he pulled back and took a breath to speak. “An acting school offered me a job here. It’s very little money,” Hervé said. “My agent got me the interview, and I was going to tell you during our next video chat, but then I asked Thierry to help me surprise you at the game instead.”
