Page 6 of Tagging Bases

“No!” The word rips from my throat, raw and desperate. I lunge sideways and try to shove Charlie out of the line of fire. But my limbs have grown heavy and numb from the cold.

The dart hits me square in the right ass cheek, the tongs burying deep into my hairy flesh.

For a split second, I feel nothing at all.They’re fake,is my first thought. But then…

Searing agony rips through me as my muscles seize and spasm.

I slam onto the filthy ground, flopping like a fish as my eyes roll into the back of my head.

The last thing I see before the darkness takes over is my best friend suffering the same fate.

Chapter 3

Human Daisy Chain

Charlie

My first thoughtis that I’ve died. But then I realize that I’m having thoughts, which means I’m alive.

Opening my eyes, the bright fluorescent lights burn my retinas. I groan, aggravating my vocal cords. When I roll over onto my side, I realize it’s the worst mistake I could have made. And that’s saying something, because I’ve done some pretty idiotic things in my twenty years of life.

My entire body aches. For a brief, delirious moment, I think it’s because I’ve had the wildest sex of my life. It would explain the sore throat and the tense muscles. But what it wouldn’t explain is why my ass feels as if it went ten rounds with an exploding transformer.Was I spanked?

A quiet laugh snaps me out of my thoughts. I pick up my head and spot a guy clad entirely in black, sitting on a slab of metal. He’s wearing a black hoodie pulled over his head, black jeans, and black boots. I frown, curious to know if his underwear and socks are black as well.

The only bit of color on him comes from the strands of dirty blond hair and sharp blue eyes staring at me. Oh, and his pale white skin. His gaze is curious, amused. I stare back, taking in hislithe frame, suddenly noticing there’s more color on him than I first thought.

Smudges of paint pepper his clothes. A myriad of colors, some bright, some dark. All tantalizing.

I groan again, louder this time, and sit up. My feet hit the cold concrete floor, sending shivers through my already battered body. I glance down and realize that I’m still wearing that ridiculous mankini. Suddenly, it all comes screaming back.

When Daniel hit the ground, fear ran through me. Pain overtook the fear when the other cop used his Taser on me. It was by the grace of God that the tongs missed my penis…by an inch. I do wish to have kids one day. In the far future. After I’ve done my time in the major leagues.

Movement catches my eye. I turn my head and find Daniel standing in front of a toilet on the far side of the room. His mankini sags pathetically as he relieves himself. It’s the red welt on his right ass cheek that blooms beneath the hair that I fixate on.

I have the strongest urge to rub ointment on that spot. Feel the warm flesh beneath my fingertips. Watch as the muscles ripple from my ministrations. Wonder if it feels as good for him as it does for me.

The sound of the toilet flushing keeps me from thinking more impure thoughts. Daniel tucks his dick back into the pouch and walks over to me. His usual confident stride has been reduced to a weary shuffle.

Staring down at me in concern, he asks, “You good, bro? I tried to wake you a couple of times.”

I take stock of the room. The cinder block walls are painted an institutional gray. A heavy steel door with a tiny window is barred. An even smaller window above my head is sealed shut.

“We’re in jail.” It’s more of a statement than a question. Reality quickly sets in, and with it, a crushing wave of embarrassment.

“Where else would we end up together?” Daniel offers me a hand to stand, but I’m toosore to take it.

I stare up at the unforgiving light and wonder if this will be on my permanent record. I truly hope not; I’ve been extremely diligent in making sure nothing hurts my chances of getting drafted. If this does…I honestly don’t know what I’ll do. Baseball is my life. It’s the only thing I know, the only thing I have going for me.

I don’t have a backup plan. Hell, I don’t even have a current plan. I go to school, bust my ass at practice, and throw the best goddamn pitches I can when it matters most. All in hopes of one day playing for the only team I’ve ever dreamed of being a part of—the New York Yankees.

A sneeze reminds me that Daniel and I aren’t the only ones in here. “Who are you?” I ask the guy in all black.

“Me?” He points a finger at himself. “The better question is, why are you guys wearing mankinis? Not that I’m complaining. You’re both giving me a show I’ll remember forever.”

He winks at us, and we flush crimson. I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on by another guy, at least not in such a direct way.

“I’m Harrison,” he says with a smirk that hits me deep in my bones. “HarrisonPrice.”

---