Dave hardly had time to look up before Christian was on him, straddling his lap, sinking hands into his hair, tilting his face up for a kiss. And oh, God, Christian after a fight was like nothing else. He was heat and hunger, and a sharp, wild high. Dave gasped as Christian claimed his mouth, grinding down against Dave, all slick muscle and coiled force. Clutching at bare skin, still damp with sweat, Dave let himself be swept under.
Before he knew what was happening, Christian was pulling him across the room and out the door, the doorman opening it for them with a smirk on his face that made Dave think he looked as dazed as he felt. They stumbled around the side of the building, away from the parking lot and into the darkness, where Christian shoved him back against the wall, sending all the breath rushing out of him.
Christian’s mouth crashed against his, hot and rough, and Dave answered with a hungry sound,needingthis. Christian’s hands framed his face, holding him close, and Dave arched into the press of his body, already hard.
“God, yes,” he breathed, and that was all Christian needed. He spun Dave to the wall, and Dave went willingly, bracing himself, legs spreading even before Christian tugged his jeans down.
Over the sound of his breathing he heard Christian tearing the top off a packet of lube and spitting it out. His finger pressed in, blunt and sure.
“So good,” Christian growled in his ear, and Dave pushed back with a broken sound, desperate.
Then Christian was there—thick, relentless, sliding all the way in until Dave’s fists clenched on the bricks.
“Wait,” he said, and hated himself for it, but it was too much, he needed time. He could feel Christian trembling with the effort of staying still, but he did. He would never hurt Dave.
Then Dave moved, just slightly, and it went from too much to fucking amazing. Christian’s name fell from his lips in a jumbled sound of need, and Christian started moving.
The rhythm was almost brutal between them, Christian grinding deep, and Dave meeting every thrust. Fullness inside him, teeth on his neck, a hand on his cock—Dave cried out, coming with a shudder. Christian followed with a hoarse groan, spilling inside him, still pressed tight.
They stood there in the still night, sounds of cheers echoing from the building beside them, the only other sound their rough breathing.
“Goddamn,”Christian said at last.
Dave agreed with the sentiment, but was too boneless to speak as Christian pulled out of him. The wall was the only thing keeping him upright, and he pressed his hot cheek against its roughness as his breathing finally started to ease. And then Christian’s hands, capable of such violence, were gently easing away the strands of his hair that had gotten caught by the rough surface of the bricks. He turned Dave to face him, his hand cupping his face.
“Dave,” he said. That was all, but it was enough to make Dave feel like his bones had melted. For that instant, Dave could see right down to his soul and the love he felt.
He kissed Christian, slow and soft and open. Because he wanted to. Because he could. And for once, he didn’t worry if he was asking too much, not when Christian kissed him back as if Dave was the only thing in his world.
Sometimes, Dave wished Christian could see himself like this—after the fire burned out, when he was still and soft and holding Dave like he meant it. He wished Christian could believethiswas what made him worth loving.
But Dave saw it. And he chose Christian, and he chosethis, every wild, tangled, wordless part of it.
Chapter Eight
CHRISTIAN
The doorman smirked again when he let them back in, but hell, Christian had nothing to be ashamed of. All that adrenaline had to go somewhere, and it always led him back to Dave, the only place it burned clean instead of burning him alive. If not for the next fight, Christian would’ve kept him there longer, kissing him slow, soaking in that soft, safe warmth. He wasn’t made to be gentle, but for Dave, he tried.
Sometimes, though, it was the soft touches that hit hardest. Because before Dave, kindness had never been just kindness. Not when he was a kid, when gentleness meant a warning, or an apology, too late to matter.
He shoved the memory down, where it always went. This wasn’t then. Dave wasn’t them.
Now the crowd was roaring, fists were flying, and instinct rose in him again, sharp and hot. The need to fight. To win. To never be at anyone’s mercy again.
Dave gave his arm a quick nudge and peeled off toward the bar. He always knew what Christian needed, sometimes before he did. Christian had spent so much of his life feeling out of control, and even now it was a tenuous grip he had, but Dave somehow balanced it. It still left him breathless, sometimes, the way Dave loved him. He had no idea how he’d lucked into someone who saw him that clearly, though he was damn grateful for it. Maybe Dave had some kind of tree-hugging sixth sense.
Christian grinned to himself. Dave and his nature crap. Karma, grounding, breathing as therapy—he probably thought a walk in the woods could rewire the nervous system. Still, if it meant Christian got Dave—his weird, steady, beautiful Dave—he’d choke down a tofu burger once a year. Maybe twice, if the moon was full and the stars aligned.
He watched Dave slip through the crowd on his way to the bar, seeing the slight hesitation in his stride from what they’d just done. He wanted to take him back outside and do it again, slower. Let himself feel every second of being with Dave.
“Christian Taylor, right?”
Christian turned on his heel to find Tony standing there. And damn it,thatwas why he didn’t let himself get distracted, not even by Dave, because Tony had snuck up on him and could have taken him out while he was watching Dave’s ass.
He raised an eyebrow in response because it wasn’t really a question.
“You look like you might have something more to offer than most of our visitors,” Tony said, his dark eyes steady on Christian’s. “I’ve put you up against Bear for the last fight tonight, so we’ll see what you’re really made of.”
