Page 36 of Switch Hitter

His lashes flutter.

“Please,” I add, and it’s not a word I use often. Not like this. “Let me kiss you.”

Sean’s breath catches and his eyes search mine like he’s looking for the trick.

“I—” he starts, voice rough. “I can’t…”

“You can,” I say, gentle but firm. “Let me show you affection isn’t something evil you have to cleanse yourself of.”

I watch him process what I just said, watch him shake his head once, like he’s trying to say no without saying no.

I keep my hand on his cheek, nice and steady.

You can do it, pretty boy.

“You let me touch you,” I murmur. “You let me have you. Please let me kiss you like you’re worth more than a quick fuck in a dark dugout.”

His eyes flash. “That’s not⁠—”

“It is,” I cut in, quieter. “You don’t run from the sex, Sean. You run from feeling wanted.”

His breath stutters, and I watch the fight inside him happen in real time. Faith and fear and family and the shape of shame pressing down on him like hands on his shoulders.

Then, slowly, he nods. Almost like it hurts him to do it.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Who knew a single word could be my undoing? Hearing him say “okay” opens the floodgates inside me. I lean in slowly, giving him time to change his mind, to pull back, to flinch.

He doesn’t.

When my mouth meets his, it’s careful at first, letting him get used to the sensation of my lips on his. Soft and tentative. Sean lets out a shaky exhale, and then he is kissing me back like he has been starving, like he’s been holding his breath for years and finally remembered how to breathe. His hands grab my shirt, fists in the fabric like he needs something solid to hold onto.

I keep one hand on his cheek and slide the other to his waist, anchoring him, keeping him steady. He makes a sound into my mouth that feels like surrender and anger all mixed together. I deepen the kiss, still keeping it gentle and slow. Sean shivers like he hates how good it feels.

When I pull back, we’re both breathing hard. His eyes are wide and glossy, like he can’t believe he did that. He looks around the room, like he’s waiting for lightning to strike.

It doesn’t.

The apartment stays still. Everything around us stays normal. Only Sean looks like his whole reality shifted half an inch.

He swallows, then whispers, almost hoarse, “Okay…”

I wait.

Sean squeezes his eyes shut like he’s bracing for impact, then peeks again, and all I do is smirk. Giving him time to come to the realization that we’re fine. Then he says it again, louder this time, like he’s forcing the truth through.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Let’s talk.”

Relief hits me so hard I laugh.

“Alright,” I murmur. “Let’s talk, pretty boy.”

Sean’s eyes flick down to my mouth and then back up, and I see the heat trying to creep in. That familiar part of him wants to turn physical because physical is easier than emotional. His body shifts toward me, like he’s going in for another kiss, and I don’t move away.

But I tilt my head and give him a look that says, “Not yet.” The complaint formed on his face immediately.

“What?” he mutters.