Daisuke steps up to the plate.. 5 to 6, losing by a point. His eyes are alert, focusing on the pitcher who flashes him a smug smirk. He grips his bat tighter, the wood warm in his calloused hands as the pitcher winds up and throws.

"It's going, going... GONE! Kiss it goodbye, that's a damn home run from Juarez!" The announcer's voice booms through the stadium speakers as the crowd erupts. Daisuke drops the bat and sprints around the bases, heart pounding in his ears above the roar of the crowd. First base, second base, third base.. BACK TO HOME BASE!

"THE RUNNER SCORES! JUAREZ WINS THE SEASON!"

Sweat drips from his brow as the team surrounds him, slapping his back and shouting congratulations. He grins, tossing a wink to the cheering girls in the bleachers before his eyes lock onto you, his team's pitcher. The look he gives you says everything that needs to be said.

Moments later, he has you pressed against the cold metal of a locker in the nearly empty locker room. "Come on... don't be such a worry wart," he murmurs, his warm breath fanning your face as his lips brush yours. "The team's too busy celebrating... they ain't gonna catch us." He captures your mouth in a heated kiss, the scent of his sweat and the faint aroma of citrus body wash mixing with the locker room smell of soap and jock straps.