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There is nothing more horrifyingly amusing than being placed in front of a bridge he’s long since burned and being told he has to cross it. And Minho has burned a lot of bridges in his short, eventful life. It’s like the past catches up to him every other day, so at this point it shouldn’t even be surprising. But this particular scorched bridge is one he really set alight, and now this bridge is his only way to cross the river. God he’s tired of metaphors, so he just stares at the new pitcher being presented by their coach with a bright grin and tries to hide a grimace.
“For those of you who don’t know, Kim Seungmin was one of the best pitchers in the high school league a few years ago. He’s spent the past year playing at the university level in America, but he’s decided to come back home to Korea. And he was smart enough to choose our team to play on. So everyone, say welcome to our new ace.”
Kim Seungmin smiles, shy and excited, while the rest of the first string greet him warmly. Chan is standing at Seungmin’s other side with a friendly arm around the new kid’s shoulder. It’s funny to see the way the pitcher has to hunch so Chan’s reach is more comfortable. Their captain doesn’t seem to mind the height difference. Seungmin’s eyes scan the team, and as soon as his gaze meets Minho’s own his face turns stormy in a blink of an eye. It’s almost impressive how quickly he goes from nervous to murderous. Minho grins and sends him a little wave, and Seungmin bares his teeth in his direction.
So the pitcher remembers him too, that’s good. He wonders if he can convince the coach to trade this kid during the pre-season, but from the pride shining on the old man’s face he doubts he’ll listen to any of Minho’s concerns.
The look of anger lingers for a moment, and then Seungmin seems to realize where he is and fixes his features back into a socially acceptable smile. A quick look around and Minho thinks none of their other teammates even caught the weird tension between them. That probably won’t last for long, but Minho appreciates the time to emotionally prepare for whatever blowout is going to happen between him and his new ace pitcher. He hopes Seungmin isn’t the violent type, because Minho’s face is too pretty for bruises.
The coach drones on some more about their new pitcher, but Minho tunes him out. He’s sure Seungmin has greatly improved over the two years since they’ve last seen each other, but Minho doesn’t want to hear about it. He wants to experience it full force in the bullpen. Seungmin looks like a good pitcher, at least. Not very muscular, but he’s got a good height to him, nice long arms, and obscenely broad shoulders that look limber enough. Just from a glance alone Minho knows he’s probably not a power pitcher. So that must mean there’s something else about Kim Seungmin that caught their coach’s eye and has him elevated to the first string without even practicing with them once.
“Minho!”
The coach’s voice cuts through Minho’s careful analysis of Seungmin’s physique. He blinks his eyes up innocently at the man like he hasn’t been zoning out for the past ten minutes.
“Yes, coach?”
“I need you to get a feel for our new pitcher so I’m sending you straight to the bullpen for today. Get him warmed up then see what he can do.”
“Of course, coach.”
Minho meets Seungmin’s eyes again and he quirks a smile, tilting his head towards the direction of the bullpen. The pitcher’s lips become pinched again and he nods to their teammates before heading off alone with Minho.
“So America, huh? How’s your korean? My english isn’t great, so if you’ve somehow forgotten this is going to be a rough practice.”
Minho’s attempt to tease is met with silence and tense shoulders. Seungmin stomps off ahead of Minho, very clearly avoiding any interaction he can. Minho rolls his eyes and trails after him.
“Are you really holding a grudge Kim Seungmin? We’re teammates now, isn’t it a sign for a fresh start?” Minho calls lazily. Seungmin comes to a skidding halt, and he whirls around to face Minho. His eyes are dark and furious, his jaw twitching.
“We are teammates and that is all we are going to be. If it’s baseball related then fine, we can talk. But anything else? Keep it to yourself.”
Seungmin’s voice shakes with barely contained anger, his fists shaking at his sides. Oh he really wants to hit Minho. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it.
“Mercy, mercy,” Minho jokes as he holds his hands up in defeat. “Baseball only, got it. Let’s get our butts in the bullpen and stretch.”
Seungmin nods curtly, and the rest of their walk is in tense silence. At this point in his career, it seems Seungmin doesn’t need any directions when it comes to stretches. He starts with his shoulders, his arms, relaxing his ligaments and shaking the tension out. Then he’s stretching his lower body, getting the blood flowing through his legs. Minho takes his lead and goes through his own stretches, though his own are centered more on his core and lower legs than his arms. After all, pitcher and catcher are two complementary positions.
Once Seungmin straightens, sliding his glove onto his hand and casts a look to Minho.
“Do you need help with your gear?” The pitcher asks amicably. Minho grins and shakes his head.
“I’m a big boy, I can put on my own gear. But if you want an excuse to feel me up then go right ahead. I hate a loose chest plate.”
Seungmin rolls his eyes and turns away from Minho again, so Minho goes through the motions of gearing up. After years of donning his catcher’s gear, it only takes him a matter of moments. Once his mask is slid into place he strolls over to one of the pitching lanes.
“Alright Kim Seungmin, show me what you’ve got.”
He sinks into a crouch and holds his massive glove up. Seungmin takes a breath and lines himself up at the other end of the lane. He kicks his cleats against the dirt, breaking up the packed ground before straightening.
“Fastballs first?” Seungmin asks.
“Yeah, we can warm up to breaking balls. I don’t know what you have in your arsenal so you can just call out what you want to pitch. We can teach you the call signs later.”
Seungmin nods, then gets into position. His form is clean and steady as he raises his leg, winds back, and sends the ball sailing neatly into Minho’s glove. It’s only the first pitch, so Minho can’t judge too much about speed. Seungmin rolls his shoulder and holds his glove out to receive the ball back.
They go on like this for a few minutes, playing a basic game of catch as Seungmin gets into a groove. When the ball thuds into Minho’s glove again he grips it instead of tossing it straight back.
“Alright, you want to move into breaking balls?”
“Sure. Should I just tell you what I’m going to pitch?”
Minho grunts in affirmation and lobs the ball to Seungmin. Minho watches with careful eyes as Seungmin adjusts his grip behind the shield of his glove, then settles back into position.
“Curveball, incourse, strike,” Seungmin intones. Minho adjusts his glove accordingly. Seungmin winds up, his hand twisting artfully as the ball releases.
The pitch looks wild. It’s sailing high and out, so Minho quickly moves his glove for it to snatch it wherever it lands outside. But then in the blink of an eye the ball is sinking, diving wildly down to where his glove had originally been. Minho flinches to react, but it bounces off the bottom of his gloves and ricochets against his thigh guards, then rolls somewhere behind him. Minho stares wide-eyed at Seungmin, and the pitcher has a smug look on his face.
“What, you don’t know how to catch a curveball? I told you exactly where it was going to be. Or are you still so arrogant you can’t trust anything but your own instincts?”
The words are taunting, meant to cut, but Seungmin is right. He’d told Minho exactly where the ball would be. But Minho has never been on the receiving end of such a brutal curveball. The way the spin is deep and the break happens at the last possible second before the batting zone is incredible. No wonder their coach is so eager to have Seungmin on their team.
“You’re right,” Minho laughs. How can he be annoyed getting to play with such an interesting pitcher? There’s a reason Minho likes catching so much. With a pitch like this in their arsenal he’ll be able to torment any batter they face. How can you trust any pitch when it can fly into the strike zone so suddenly?
“Show me again, same pitch. Lower inner course.”
Minho doesn’t bother scrambling after the wild ball behind him, instead grabbing from the pile at his feet. Seungmin catches it with a more confident look in his eyes and pitches again. It looks like it’s going to the upper corner of the strike zone, a fair and easy fastball, but Minho doesn’t get baited this time. He waits, sharp eyes on the streak of white, and it cuts perfectly into his glove where it waits at the very inner lower corner. Minho laughs in delight.
“Fuck, you’re a sadist Kim Seungmin.”
“I’m a good pitcher,” Seungmin corrects, but his eyes are still glittering with amusement. He reminds Minho so much of the boy he met in high school. The one with lofty dreams and naive love of the sport. He’s glad some of that purity has clung to him until now.
“I’ll be the sadist then. These batters won’t be able to touch your pitches. Can you do an outside course?”
The rest of practice is spent testing out the range of Seungmin’s curveballs. He’s also got a decent slider and prefers a forkball to a changeup. Overall he’s got an incredibly well developed arsenal of pitches and higher than average control. His speed suffers from it clearly, which might develop into a problem, but Minho is too excited to worry about that now.
“Alright, I think we’re done. Good job today.”
Seungmin’s perfect posture finally relaxes. There’s a bit of sweat trickling down the pitcher’s temple, and his hair looks damp under his baseball cap. Minho doesn’t hear the familiar din of the team from the practice field, so he assumes the two of them have gone past the normal practice hours.
They cool down in relative silence, aside from the pops of Seungmin’s joints and the heavy thud of Minho stripping out of his equipment. Minho always feels so much lighter after stripping out of his catcher’s gear, like he’s peeling away the role he’s meant to play on the field and leaving it behind in a little shed. Seungmin, however, looks just as serious and motivated as he takes off his cap and fans himself with it.
“We have tomorrow off from practice, so make sure you study the call signs before the next time we meet. Do you need me to show you where the locker room is? You can shower off there before doing… Whatever it is pitchers do when they’re not allowed to have a ball in their hand.”
Seungmin lets out the beginning of a laugh, but when he looks over at Minho it's like the realization slowly trickles into him. That no matter how well they work as a battery, Seungmin still hates him. So instead the pitcher clears his throat and turns his face away.
“I don’t know where it is, actually. But I can find it on my own.”
Minho rolls his eyes and hoists his bag over his shoulder.
“Shut up, I’ll keep my mouth quiet as we walk, don’t worry. You can’t hope to avoid me that long when we’re going to see each other every single day for the rest of our university careers.”
“I can try,” Seungmin mutters petulantly, but he follows suit grabbing his own bag and trailing after Minho.
True to his word, Minho stays silent as he trudges towards the clubhouse. There are so many things he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how Seungmin would receive it. He doesn’t want to apologize, per se, because Minho isn’t ashamed of how much of an asshole he’d been back then. It’s a fact of life, he had been a snobby little prodigy who used psychological warfare to beat the other teams down. And it had earned Minho three national titles and a cushy spot on an excellent university team now. He’s grown up from that petty little monster since then. Letting his baseball speak for him more than cutting words. But that doesn’t mean he regrets how he behaved in high school. Explaining this to Seungmin though probably won’t earn him any favors.
Finally they reach the locker room. The rest of the team has cleared out by now, so it’s more stifling silence as they move around. Minho watches Seungmin with interest as the pitcher sets up in the middle of the room. He’s quick to strip, tossing his hat on the bench and undoing his practice jersey. With the fabric loose around his torso Seungmin moves on to his cleats and socks. From here Minho can see the muscles of his chest and stomach shift as he bends over. He’s not very muscular, for a pitcher. Though Seungmin’s skills are really concentrated in his hands rather than his arms. Without the pitcher’s glove Minho can appreciate Seungmin’s hands as well. They’re perfect, really. Long, sturdy fingers, a wide palm, and he moves with the delicacy of a surgeon as he undoes his laces.
“Are you going to stare at me or are you going to undress too?”
Minho blinks up from Seungmin’s hands to see his unamused glare leveled right in his direction.
“Have your hands always been that big?” Minho asks. Seungmin balks at the question.
“Are you asking if my mother pushed me out with giant, fully grown hands? No, Minho, my hands weren’t always this big.”
Minho narrows his eyes and analyzes his hands again.
“I meant from high school. Did they teach you new pitches when you went to America?”
Seungmin bristles, his face immediately clouding over.
“You don’t get to talk to me about high school, or anything that has to do with my pitching back then. It’s none of your concern.”
Minho scoffs and takes a step closer to Seungmin, whose fiery eyes don’t cower away. He’s standing here in nothing but his baseball pants and his unbuttoned jersey limp on his shoulders, but there’s nothing but pride on his face. Minho takes another step closer, then another, until he’s close enough to touch Seungmin.
“It is my concern Seungminnie, because I’m your catcher. And I’m your elder, so you better watch how you speak to me.”
Okay, now maybe Minho is a little annoyed. He gets why Seungmin is pissed at him, but really . Holding a grudge this long? Looking at Minho like he’s nothing but a nuisance?
“If I had known you were the catcher here I never would have accepted the offer,” Seungmin spits.
“If you didn’t accept the offer here you’d fail whatever team you joined, just like you failed back in high school. You’re a good pitcher Kim Seungmin but you are nothing without a good catcher. And I’m the best there is.”
Seungmin gnashes his teeth and looks seconds away from strangling Minho. So Minho beats him to it. He reaches up and buries his hand in Seungmin’s sweaty hair and yanks his head down to Minho’s level.
“No, shut up. I know I was cruel to you with that interview with the reporters, but you need to get the fuck over yourself. Do you know why you lost that match? Because your team sucked. You were the only one trying, even when the rest just watched us score on you again and again. You pitched the best you could, and it still wasn’t enough.”
As Minho’s hand tightens, Seungmin’s eyes start to go watery. He keeps his lips stubbornly screwed shut, but there’s something wavering in his eyes now. Something that sends a thrill through Minho.
“This is never going to work if you don’t learn how to listen to me, Kim Seungmin. If you don’t want to feel stranded on that pitcher’s mound again you better get the fuck over this attitude problem you have going and work with me. The catcher controls everything on that field. I’m the start and end of it all. You’re just one of the tools I use to win. Got it?”
Seungmin’s face wavers. He doesn’t yank out of Minho’s grip, and he can’t keep eye contact with the catcher anymore.
Is the pitcher just a yapping dog? Does he need to be shown who his owner is? The real master of the house? Minho can do that.
“Pants off and in the shower. We’re going to settle this now.”
Minho doesn’t wait for Seungmin to start complying. He quickly strips out of his own clothes, smirking when he notices Seungmin carefully shrugging off his jersey and shoving down his pants until they’re both stripped down. Seungmin is gorgeous and tan all laid out bare like this, his knees bumping together and his hands fluttering around his stomach like he wants to cover himself but is hesitant of how Minho would react. Good.
Minho gives him a quick little tap on the ass before heading into the shower room. There aren’t any stalls, just one big tial room with about twenty different showerheads and a large drain in the center. Minho goes over to the three center knobs and gets all of them going. There are various bottles of shampoo and body wash scattered around, and Minho plucks Hyunjin’s lotion off the ground. When his head turns over his shoulder he sees Seungmin hovering at the entrance. All the fight has left him it seems, but there’s hesitation in his eyes.
“Come in. Hands on the wall.”
Seungmin hesitantly pads into the shower, his steps hesitating when he passes Minho, but at the look in Minho’s eyes the younger continued on. His hair grows damp as he steps under the spray of the shower, and then he stops at the wall. Seungmin rests his giant hands on the shower wall and waits. Minho steps up behind Seungmin and squirts the lotion into his hands. Seungmin’s shoulders tense.
“Do you trust me?” Minho asks, pressing up behind Seungmin. He takes his hand and reaches down to slather it between Seungmin’s thighs. Seungmin jumps, either from the touch or the coldness of the lotion, the muscles of his legs twitching under Minho’s palms.
“I have to, don’t I?” It’s the closest to nice Seungmin has been this entire day, so Minho allows it.
“Good. Squeeze your legs together.”
There’s a pause, but after Minho settles his hands on Seungmin’s hips the younger shuffles his feet together until his thighs press together. With the hand still slick with lotion, Minho wraps a hand around himself. The sound of his hand jerking his cock echoes lewdly in the shower room. Minho can see the tip of Seungmin’s ears growing pink, but he can’t see the pitcher’s face like this. The only sign that Seungmin wants this too is how well he tenses his legs together.
Once he’s suitably hard, Minho molds himself to Seungmin’s back and guides the tip of his cock between Seungmin’s thighs. The slide is all too easy with the lotion. He thrusts forward until his hips smack against Seungmin’s plush ass. Seungmin squeaks at the feeling.
“Isn’t it better like this? Instead of fighting me like a little brat you can give up and let me lead. I’ll make it good for both of us.”
Minho slowly picks up his thrusts. Seungmin’s thighs are wonderfully plush and hot as he grinds between them. But Seungmin’s a skinny kid, so it’s a looser slide than what he wants. It’s fine for now, just teasing himself with the gentle pressure.
“I really wanted to fuck you properly, but I don’t have any lube on me. Your ass is even nicer than your legs, Seungminie.”
Minho punctuates his words by grinding deeply against Seungmin’s cheeks with his dick still trapped between his legs, his hands tightening on Seungmin’s hips.
“Ah- stop,” Seungmin whines, ducking his face into his shoulder. Minho can see his red cheeks like this, his wet eyes. Seungmin clenches his thighs together even tighter and rocks back onto Minho.
“Hm, stop? Stop teasing you, or stop fucking your sweet little thighs? I think I’ll keep doing both, since you’re enjoying it so much.”
Minho picks up his thrusts and reaches around Seungmin’s front. Seungmin’s cock is rock hard, bobbing against his stomach with each roll of their bodies. It’s long and skinny just like Seungmin himself, the cockhead painfully red and beading with precum at the tip. Minho gathers the liquid in his palm then slides his hand around Seungmin.
The noise that Seungmin makes in response is beautiful. A high, nasal whine that bounces off the shower walls, his body jerking into the touch.
“That’s it Seungminie, doesn’t it feel good? You look like you’re going to blow your load already.”
Seungmin doesn’t answer. It seems like something has finally snapped in him. He’s moaning like a whore, his hands splayed against the wall and his body trembling. It’s like he doesn’t know if he wants to rock back into Minho’s thrusts or jerk up into his hand. He’s pinned completely by Minho, and he’s losing himself in the feeling completely.
“Minho- Minho I’m gonna-” Seungmin cries out before his cock is twitching in Minho’s hand. The moan he lets out is pure relief, his hips pumping into Minho’s touch as he comes. Minho nearly goes crazy at how tightly Seungmin’s legs clench together, his cock thoroughly trapped between Seungmin’s thighs.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Minho chuckles. Once Seungmin starts going soft in his hand he releases his grip. Seungmin immediately pushes out of Minho’s grip and turns to face him. His eyes are fuzzy and his face is slack as he drops to his knees right in front of Minho.
Before the older can even speak Seungmin has a hand around Minho’s cock and swallows him down completely. It’s desperate in the way he blows Minho, sloppy and wet and fast , so fast. Minho doesn’t have a chance to breathe. He gasps, hand flying to Seungmin’s hair to yank at it. But Seungmin only groans at the feeling and sucks harder.
Minho goes cross eyed at the onslaught of pleasure and now it’s his own moans that join the pattering of the water. Seungmin takes him all the way down his throat, swallowing around the head of his cock, and it’s over for Minho. He tugs at Seungmin’s hair in warning and then he’s shooting into Seungmin’s mouth. The pitcher pulls off enough to swallow it all down without joking himself on it. Minho’s legs turn to jelly, and as soon as Seungmin pops his mouth off of Minho’s cock, Minho sinks to the shower floor right across from Seungmin.
“Fuck, forget pitching, you should be a professional cock sucker,” Minho laughs breathlessly. There’s awareness slowly flickering back into Seungmin’s face and he quirks a smile.
“You haven’t seen what I can do with my hands yet,” Seungmin teases back. “But maybe I should fuck your thighs next time. Look at these things.”
Seungmin slides his palms up the expanse of Minho’s thighs with amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“Or maybe you can hump them like the good little puppy you are,” Minho counters, and that has Seungmin’s face flushing. His hands jerk away from Minho’s legs and fold into his own lap.
“Maybe…”
Minho ruffles Seungmin’s damp hair and slowly works his way to his feet. He holds a hand out to help Seungmin up as well.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s actually get clean. I feel even more gross now.”
The rest of their shower passes in relative peace. Changing into street clothes afterwards is in similar silence. Minho keeps glancing to Seungmin, looking for any signs of regret or anger, but Seungmin just looks oddly content. They exit the locker room together and Minho hesitates once they’re outside. The sun is already mostly set behind the horizon.
“Need me to walk you to your dorm?”
Seungmin shakes his head.
“I know how to get there, thanks. I’ll um, I’ll see you next practice Minho-ssi. I’ll be sure to practice the call signs by then.”
“I hope after all that you’ll at least call me hyung,” Minho teases. Seungmin smiles shyly and nods.
“Will do, see you later hyung.”
As Seungmin walks away, Minho watches him as he goes. His ass looks way better in baseball pants than they do in jeans. How dangerous that will be for his concentration during practice is yet to be known.
***
Things have been going well, so well in the weeks following Seungmin joining the team. A good orgasm solves everything, in Minho’s often correct opinion. While Seungmin sticks to his highly professional mindset when they’re at practice, he’s starting to warm up more and more to Minho. It’s fun with Seungmin. He likes to tease and prod at Minho, trying to get the elder riled up, but as soon as Minho snaps back he gets all loose and pliant. They’ve fucked around a handful of times now, a few sloppy handjobs in the equipment shed and much more shower head.
God does Seungmin love to have something in his mouth. He looks happier with Minho’s cock stuffed in his cheeks than he does when Minho’s got a hand around Seungmin’s cock. He always looks sad when they run out of time and he has to wrap it up and get Minho to come.
It’s helped their relationship as a battery, Minho thinks. Seungmin has started to trust him wholeheartedly. Minho is like a gambler with his pitching calls - high risk with high reward. And he knows Seungmin is good enough to keep up with what Minho requires of him. He never flinches when Minho calls for three forks balls in a row. When Minho asks for a deliberate ball far outside of the strike zone, he does it without hesitation. And it’s making their team’s defense look unbeatable this season.
All up until their first practice game.
Seungmin had started off looking eager. With such unbridled joy for the sport, Seungmin’s grin is wide and his laughter comes freely as they warm up. Their opposing team is a nearby university they play with often. They aren’t quite considered rivals, because they kick their asses nearly every game, but they put up a good fight which makes them great for practice games.
But as both teams warm up on the field, the friendly jabs start out.
“Are you guys so scared of us you have to import your players from America?” One of them calls.
“Nah, I know that kid. They’re going easy on us. It’s that kid that had to call his own pitches from the mound, remember? I bet our manager is going to memorize their signs by the fourth inning.”
The words roll off of Minho easily, but he watches as Seungmin starts to grow tense.
“How long do you think until the catcher gives up on him this time too?”
“As if, Lee is too stubborn for that. He’d probably just have him pitch right down the middle to put them all out of their misery.”
Minho watches Seungmin grow quiet, watches how his muscles tense even after he stretches. Minho jogs up to him and throws an arm around his shoulder.
“They’re just trying to rile you up, ignore it. It’s a cheap shot,” Minho murmurs lowly. “I’m your catcher, remember? I’ve made you perfect. This game is going to be a breeze for us.”
“Yeah…” Seungmin hums, but his eyes don’t leave the other team’s. Worry slowly starts rolling in Minho’s stomach.
Warming up in the bullpen is awful. Seungmin’s form is all off, and he’s hesitating with every pitch. His breaking balls are all over the place. He sends a slider right into the ground before it can reach Minho. His curveballs can’t seem to find fair territory. His fastballs are even slower than usual. It’s a disaster.
Minho is sick of it. He stands from his crouch and starts shedding his catcher’s gear. Seungmin’s got tears in his eyes.
“Come with me.”
Minho marches them over to the coach and pulls the man aside.
“Can you give us thirty minutes?”
The coach looks from Minho, to a clearly distraught Seungmin, and nods.
“Thirty minutes Minho, then be ready to play.”
Minho nods and grabs Seungmin’s hand again. He leads them both from the field, through the locker room, and back into the team’s infirmary. It’s empty, since their nurse doesn’t work during practice games, so Minho flicks the lock on the room shut and sits down on the examination table. Without saying a word he undoes the front of his baseball pants and pulls out his soft cock.
“Come here, we’re not leaving this room until you’ve calmed down.”
Seungmin seems to know exactly what Minho is getting at. The tears are already spilling down his cheeks as he sinks to his knees between Minho’s spread legs. He takes Minho into his mouth and rests his cheek on Minho’s thigh. He doesn’t start sucking him down enthusiastically like he normally does. He just lets the weight of it sit on his tongue, stuffing his cheeks. He sniffles pathetically.
“You don’t need to listen to them, they’re just talking shit. The last few weeks should prove to you how strong you are. You’re getting worked up over nothing.”
Minho drops his hand to Seungmin’s hair and starts carding his fingers through it. There’s a low hum of pleasure in the back of his mind, his cock chubbing up slightly between Seungmin’s lips. It isn’t about that. It’s about seeing the tension in Seungmin’s shoulders start to melt away, his eyes going lidded and soft. Seungmin suckles gently around Minho’s cock and sighs out of his nose.
They stay like this for the next twenty minutes. Minho watches with careful eyes as Seungmin slowly slips into a more relaxed headspace. The tears in his eyes slowly dry, and he leans his weight completely against Minho’s leg.
Finally, Minho feels like Seungmin is calm. He taps against Seungmin’s cheek to get Seungmin to look up at him.
“You feeling better?”
Seungmin hums, giving one last suck at Minho’s cock before pulling off. His movements are syrupy as he blinks up at Minho.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, nuzzling into Minho’s knee. “I feel a lot better now.”
Minho sighs and pats Seungmin’s hair again.
“Good. Now let’s put ourselves back together and go kick their asses.”
It takes a few more minutes for Seungmin to fully bring himself to awareness. Minho tucks himself back into his pants, grimacing as he has to shove his mildly hard cock into his cup. Seungmin wipes at his shiny lips and stands from his knees. He stretches again, this time his limbs are limber and flexible. He looks much more ready by the time they leave the infirmary room.
“We’re going to win,” Seungmin says confidently as they step back into the bullpen. Minho allows the pitcher to help him back into his catching gear. Seungmin tightens the straps on his chest piece with eager hands.
“We are,” Minho agrees with a smirk.
“I don’t want to go easy on them,” Seungmin adds, more energy filtering into his voice.
“Oh babe, of course we won’t. We’re going to crush their spirits the fun way.”
Seungmin smiles beautifully, and it makes Minho go a little breathless. God, where did his coach find such a perfect pitcher? It’s like he’s plucked out of every one of Minho’s fantasies, both pitching and otherwise.
They share a look, and when they turn to join the rest of their team on the field Minho feels unstoppable. Seungmin looks centered in a way Minho hasn’t seen before. Focused and ready to pitch like his life depends on it.
And they do go on to crush their opposing team, so thoroughly not even a single player gets on base. And Minho rewards his perfect pitcher by blowing his back out in his shitty twin dorm bed while Minho’s jersey hangs off of Seungmin’s narrow frame.
If only high school Seungmin could see them now. Could see the monster that Minho has created out of the pitcher. It’s glorious.