Annoying OP again
anonymous
May 8 2011, 16:35:56 UTC
God. Thanks to Justin's post-game mention that he was going to talk to Emily, now I have I wish that he gets sucked off by Rick while he's with her on the phone.
the aforementioned someone else, checking in with story
anonymous
May 16 2011, 21:06:21 UTC
As soon as Avila's arms close around him on the mound, he knows who his first phone call is going to be. His friends can wait. His parents can wait. This is his second no-hitter, one of the best things he has ever done on a baseball field. He's ten miles high, hands shaking with the sudden flood of adrenaline he's mostly kept at bay all game long; he's babbling a mile a minute at his teammates, heart hammering, blood pounding in his temples. He's calling Emily.
She picks up right away. She must have been watching the game, she knows exactly what he's done. Justin rambles excitedly at her for a bit, words stumbling over each other in his mouth in their haste to get out. He giggles after every half-sentence and he's probably not making too much sense, but Emily laughs with him and stays on the line until he starts to calm down a little bit.
"How're you feeling?" she asks. The emphasis she puts on that last word goes straight to Justin's groin. Emily was at his first no-hitter. She knows how he was after the game, burning
( ... )
Justin's eyes fly open. Rick Porcello is standing there, shirtless in a loose pair of sweatpants and too-big socks, holding a pile of damp gray uniform and looking incredibly awkward.
Justin whips his hand out of his pants automatically, then narrows his eyes. What the hell does he have to feel uncomfortable about? He just threw a goddamn no-hitter and he's on the phone with his girlfriend; he's got no regrets. He slides his hand back under his waistband with as much dignity as he can muster, although he knows his face is bright red. "Jesus, Ricky, you could knock or something. Little busy here."
"Ricky's there?" Emily asks. Justin grunts. Yes, he is. He wishes Porcello would leave, so he could get back on with things, but Porcello is still standing there in the doorway looking stunned, the clothes in his hands occasionally dripping onto the floor.
"I think he likes you a little bit," Emily says. "I mean, I don't blame him. After all, I know exactly where he's coming from. So I told him how we could all have some fun together, and because you threw a no-hitter, you know, he wants to do something special. Such a good little teammate, don't you think?" She stops there, as though waiting for Justin to reply, but his mouth has gone dry. He can't stop staring at Porcello, who is kneeling almost demurely, eyes averted, blushing a little but breathing calm and steady
( ... )
story part 4 holy fuck this got long
anonymous
May 16 2011, 21:11:16 UTC
"Ohgod," Justin says. "Ohgod," he adds, in a higher register, as Porcello takes more of him in, pauses, flexes his hands on Justin's legs, then starts bobbing his head. He's doing filthy things with his tongue. He scrapes Justin with his teeth every so often, like he doesn't really know how to keep them covered, which, God, he probably doesn't, maybe he's never even done this before, but Justin can't think about that too much or he's going to lose it. The inside of Porcello's mouth is so hot, and he can't understand why his balls feel so cool until he realizes that Porcello is drooling on them
( ... )
story part 5 the fuckin end
anonymous
May 16 2011, 21:12:18 UTC
"Ricky. Hey. Rick." He hesitantly reaches out and pokes Porcello with his shoe. Porcello angles his eyes up without moving his head. Justin swallows hard. "Um. Did you... d'you want to... er. What, um, what can I do to. Uh. Help
( ... )
Maybe phone sex with Zoom?
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Go with that if you wish.
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.......hmmm. Giving this serious consideration now.
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Just an anonymous lurker here, but I have to say: my interest in this fill just tripled.
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She picks up right away. She must have been watching the game, she knows exactly what he's done. Justin rambles excitedly at her for a bit, words stumbling over each other in his mouth in their haste to get out. He giggles after every half-sentence and he's probably not making too much sense, but Emily laughs with him and stays on the line until he starts to calm down a little bit.
"How're you feeling?" she asks. The emphasis she puts on that last word goes straight to Justin's groin. Emily was at his first no-hitter. She knows how he was after the game, burning ( ... )
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Justin's eyes fly open. Rick Porcello is standing there, shirtless in a loose pair of sweatpants and too-big socks, holding a pile of damp gray uniform and looking incredibly awkward.
Justin whips his hand out of his pants automatically, then narrows his eyes. What the hell does he have to feel uncomfortable about? He just threw a goddamn no-hitter and he's on the phone with his girlfriend; he's got no regrets. He slides his hand back under his waistband with as much dignity as he can muster, although he knows his face is bright red. "Jesus, Ricky, you could knock or something. Little busy here."
"Sorry," Porcello repeats. "Sorry, I'm really... um. Sorry."
"Ricky's there?" Emily asks. Justin grunts. Yes, he is. He wishes Porcello would leave, so he could get back on with things, but Porcello is still standing there in the doorway looking stunned, the clothes in his hands occasionally dripping onto the floor.
"Why don't you ask him to come on over, mmm?"
Justin blinks. "I'm sorry... what" ( ... )
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my brains are leaking out of my ears, anon. you dun liquified my brains.
this is one I demand you put on your journal so I can tuck it away in my memories forever and ever.
asdfghjkl;lkjhgfdsdfghjkjhgfd
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That was so hot. I can't even. My god.
I don't know how to thank you. I will love you forever for this.
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