"How's this?"
Chris tried not to sigh visibly and took off his glove. "Bass, you're killing me. Come here - no,
wait, stay there. We'll do this in the batter's box." He jogged off the mound towards home plate.
"Don't. Move," he said as Lance tried to head towards him. "Stay inside the box."
Lance complied with a frown. "We don't really have to do this, you know," he said. "My life has
been perfectly complete to this point without knowing how to hit a baseball."
"Yes, you do," Chris narrowed his eyes at him. "You never know when you might need to hit a ball.
I've already failed you in my position as older and wiser mentor by not teaching you sooner, and
now my failure and yours is preserved digitally forever and available for viewing shame at your
local Blockbuster. Plus, no boyfriend of mine will not know how to hit. Not as long as I can teach him."
He nodded firmly.
Lance lowered the bat and cocked a hip backwards. "You're saying you'll leave me if I don't learn how
to hit a baseball?"
Chris took Lance's free hand and wrapped it back around the bat. "No. I'm saying - wait, don't
move! Stay like that!" He put a hand on Lance's cocked hip, keeping his weight back. "I'm saying
that it's my boyfriendly duty to teach you. And just think of all the good dance training you've
got to fall back on. Now pick the bat up again." Chris kept his hands on Lance's but plastered
himself to Lance's back.
"Okay," he said into Lance's ear, chin resting on his shoulder. "Keep your weight back on your right
leg like that." He loosed one hand and ran it down the inside of Lance's left thigh. Lance automatically
spread his legs. "Good. Move your left foot out and keep it in line, but keep your weight on your right
foot." Hands on Lance's hips, Chris twisted them both sideways. "Keep your left side facing the pitcher.
You don't turn to face him until you're actually swinging the bat." He wrapped his hands around Lance's
again. "You've choked up too far. Let loose a little."
"Choked up?" Lance asked, a little breathless but serious.
"You're holding the bat too far up. Slide 'em down a little." Chris nosed Lance's ear in encouragement.
"Very good. Now -" Chris shoved his knees into the backs of Lance's knees. "Bend 'em, just a little."
He caught Lance with a hand on his hip. "But keep your weight back! You won't get much power if all
your weight's up front when you start." Chris stepped back to look. "Better. Much better." He pressed
himself back up against Lance and laid a hand low on Lance's belly. He pulled back gently. "Keep your
weight centered over the balls of your feet, which means you gotta stick your ass out a little."
Lance pressed back,
grinning. "Like this?"
Chris stood firm and hard.
"Not that much, dipwad." He ground up against Lance,
nudging his hips with his own. "Just enough. Now raise the
bat."
"Already raised," Lance muttered as he
lifted the bat.
Chris licked his neck in retribution, which
just made Lance shiver. "Dude. Only the teacher gets to make the
double entendres. Wait till we're done, and you can make all the
single entendres you want." Chris guided Lance's arms with his
own, hands wrapped around Lance's once more. "Keep your left
shoulder up and your right in line with your body." He murmured
soft instructions, guiding Lance's body with his own. Lance quivered
a little and followed Chris's nudges.
Finally they moved
together. "Lead with your shoulder, not your elbow; keep the
elbow up; don't break your wrists yet; weight back; bring it around,
and now!" Chris made Lance follow through with a flick of his
wrists. Chris let go of Lance and walked around to face him. He
considered Lance and the color running high on his cheeks. "Let
me see you once on your own, and then we're good."
Lance
set, locked, loaded, and followed through. Chris nodded, pleased.
Chris motioned for him to pick up the bat again and made corrections
with wandering hands once more. "I bet I would've learned to
dance a lot faster like this," Lance said at one point, looking
at Chris with painfully innocent eyes. Chris just bit the back of his
neck lightly and adjusted his grip on the bat.
Finally Chris
said, "Okay! We're good!" He jogged back to the pitcher's
mound and his glove.
Lance faltered. "Chris? What are you
doing? I thought we were done. What? Are you going to throw it
at me?," he demanded.
Chris just grinned.