Work Text:
No one’d ever guess. That’s the thing.
Next to the word pure in the dictionary, there’s a picture of Buster Posey. In San Francisco, and not just in the Castro, they joke that he needs a special visa to enter the city limits. He wears his compression baseball shorts like it’s that sacred stuff the Mormon guys put on so they won’t think about sex. He’s got the silent hands of a religious fanatic who channels the word of Jesus by handling rattlesnakes. And the mouth of Shirley Temple, pursed up into a sober O.
The way those eyebrows knit up, the blue eyes darken, the cheekbones pink with effort, the way he rips off his catcher’s mask when he’s chasing a foul - all these things are supposed to make us believe in Buster the baseball prodigy. He's the real thing, this guy, a throwback to the good old days. No diamond stud earrings; no gangsta tattoos. He doesn't drink or smoke or juice. No swearing, even when he gets a bad call, and he blows huge pink bubbles when he’s out there playing first. He married his high-school sweetheart and they’ve already got twins.
So what’s mind-blowing is how many people’d like to fuck Buster Posey, straight up. When they watch him play, they’re not thinking about his on-base percentage or the way he picked that guy off second. They’re thinking there’s something about catchers, the way they conspire with the pitcher to swindle batters into giving it away. Those massive thighs, that supple ass, the way a catcher hovers and waits and takes from the pitcher is nothing less than the primal dance. And Buster Posey’s purity makes it all the more tantalizing. The dance that pitcher and catcher are doing out there on the field is a pale shadow of what might happen elsewhere, in private, in the dark of the human heart.
That's what makes it so amazing. That Buster's working his way - slowly, thoroughly, like the artisan he is - through the ranks of the Giants' pitching staff, starters to bullpen. He aims to become the team's most unforgettable catcher, on the field and off.
He's not satisfied with bodies alone, Buster; he's out for hearts and minds as well. The whole package; the 'pen in its entirety. And the promise that he makes to himself is that he'll always go as far as he can, and never backwards. No promises and no regrets.