My dad helps me take off my robe, and Charlie straps my gloves on then shoves my mouth guard in. I can hear the other boxers from Nexus shouting and cheering me on, and I let it fuel me. My eyes are on my opponent as his team does the same.
When it’s time to start, we meet in the middle, smacking our gloves together out of respect as the ref talks, and then the bell rings, signaling us to begin.
We dance around each other at first, faking a few punches to see how the other boxer reacts. I ignore the crowd, and my vision narrows to my opponent. I manage a quick right hook he can’t avoid, and he stumbles back, but when I bring my gloves up again, his guard is up. I hit it a few times before stepping back. He lowers it and throws punches in return. I avoid them and let him hit my guard as he pushes me backward. The bell finally rings, and neither of us are down, but we have felt each other out. I hit stronger, while he hits faster.
The bell rings, signaling the end of round one, and I head to my corner, spitting out my guard. I take a drink as my dad and Charlie wipe my face and check my gloves. “He’s fast,” my dad says, “but you’re better, and he knows it. He’s going for dirty moves, expectingyou to slip up. Don’t take him out too easily. They want a good show, and it might come across as being too cocky.”
“Got it,” I reply as they shove my mouth guard back in, and I get up as the bell rings for round two.
We hit gloves again, and this time, I don’t play with him. I smash my fist into his face in a rapid, two-jab movement. His head snaps back, and he falls to the mat. I follow him down before being pulled off, and then I wait, but James gets up. Shaking off his stupor, he comes at me, anger contorting his face. His moves are slightly uncoordinated but still controlled. He lands one hit, but I use it to slam another hook into him that has him hitting the ropes. I wait, remembering my father’s words, glancing at the crowd for a moment, which I never do.
I see gray hair and a smiling face.
My boy is here.
I can’t help but stare before there’s a shout, and I turn back to see James coming at me, furious and sweaty.
Seeing Zia gives me a new surge of determination, and I turn to my opponent, blocking his jabs with my arms until I see my shot. I should drag this out and make it a good show, but my boy is here.
I want to show off a little, so despite it only being the second round, I take my shot—a mean uppercut that sends him flying back. He hits the mat, and the ref starts counting. He’s groaning, and I know he’s done before the bell even rings and my arm is thrust into the air.
The crowd shouts and cameras flash as I grin and let the ref turn me to the audience. All the while, I’m searching for my boy, but I can’t see him anywhere. Disappointment floods me as I’m awarded the win. Afterwards, my dad smacks my side.
“What happened to the plan?” he mutters.
“I got bored,” I grumble. “I’m off to shower.” I wave as I stride down the tunnel.
Heading into my private locker room, I kick the door shut in annoyance. Was I imagining things? I was so sure it was Zia, but I had to be wrong. Throwing my robe to the side with my gloves and guard, I open my locker to pull out my clothes when there’s a click. Myeyebrows draw together, and I’m about to turn when arms slide around my waist.
“Congratulations.” The slow, flirty drawl makes me freeze.
“Zia?” I murmur. When I turn, I see him grinning at me. “I knew it was you.” I grab his face and kiss him. “You came!”
“You asked,” he replies. “You did well, and you looked so sexy in that ring. Those shorts . . . I really like them,” he murmurs as my hands squish his cheeks before he pulls away. Zia drops to his knees, and my eyes widen. “Do you want your reward for winning?”
“I’m sweaty.”
His eyes roll up to mine as he licks a line across my abs. “I like it when you’re sweaty,” he whispers as he tugs my shorts down, and all protests flee my mind. My hard cock springs into his waiting grasp.
“Zia—” I groan as his lips eagerly wrap around the tip of my dick and suck. My back hits the locker, slamming it shut, as I reach for him. I anchor my hand in his hair, clinging to him as my thighs shake. Despite all my training and how long I can fight for, one touch from him makes me weak.
Chuckling, he pulls back and sweeps his talented tongue up and down my length like I’m his favorite candy. I fist his hair, silently begging for more as he tortures me in the best way.
“Please, baby,” I growl, and he looks up at me through his fucking lashes and wraps his mouth around my length again, then he swallows me all the way down to the back of his throat.
I can’t hold back. Gripping him tighter, I drag his mouth off and thrust back down his throat. He bobs his head, setting a fast, sloppy rhythm. His perfect, hot mouth remains closed tightly around me until my balls draw up with the need to come.
“Yo, Nikko, are you nearly done?” Charlie yells through the door. “We are going out to celebrate. It’s your dad’s treat.”
Zia pops his mouth from my cock for a moment as I shiver and heave above him. “Better answer him because even if he comes in here, I won’t stop.” He wraps his lips around my length and sucks me all the way down, making my eyes roll into the back of my head as a groan escapes.
“Nikko, you okay?” Charlie calls, and I know he’ll enter in a moment.
Nobody gets to see my boy like this.
“Fine!” I yell, my voice tight. “I’ll be out soon.”
“Oh, okay.” I hear his footsteps retreat, and then I slump as Zia chuckles around my cock.
