A woman outside of the arena yells the starting word. A simple, “Fight!” and a low bell rings above our heads.
There are no other rules to the fights that are held in this space. No rounds. No“you’re out.”You fight until the other person is dead. You maul them, mangle them, and you try to get out yourself with as little permanent damage as possible.
The scars on my back and arms are trophies from my past in this ring.
Aleksandr and I circle each other for a moment, drawing in even closer, before we both grab the other by his arms.
“This is a stupid idea,” I tell him under my breath.
“You’re the one who started it,” he growls at me.
I shove him away from me and he steps to the side, a calculating and curious look in his eyes. There’s already sweat beading on Aleksandr’s hairline, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t help but smile at him, and seeing the reflection in his eyes makes me look crazy.
Maybe I am crazy…because I kind of like this.
I lunge forward and catch him when he’s least expecting it, turning him around and holding his neck between my bicep and forearm.
He fights me, trashing and digging his nails in.
My blood is racing through my veins. Heart pumping hard and fast.
Okay, I definitely like this. But I knew that. I’ve always enjoyed fighting. Feeling another man’s body against my own. Bringing him to the brick of death with my pure strength.
There’s something different about this, though. It’s not just any man I have with his neck lodged between my arm, it’s Aleksandr.
Heat rushes to my cock just as he manages to slip out of my hold.
I watch as he pants for breath and then swings at me, his movements calculated and careful, but I can see them before they happen…and that is his Achilles heel. He takes too long to decide.
By the time his fist is swinging at my face, I’ve dodged out of the way.
But my fist strikes him with ease, cracking against the side of that pretty little face and causing him to stumble.
Blood sprays from his nose, and I watch the red drip down his mouth and chin. I want to taste it. I want to know exactly what he tastes like…warm and wet.
Instead, I continue to fight him. My body urges me forward and I wail on him like I would any other opponent…except he’s not any other. He’s far from it.
Aleksandr punches back, hard and quick. When he’s not overthinking his moves, he’s a lot quicker than I am. I’m heavier and there’s more weight behind my fists, but he’s lithe and fast.
I can’t help but laugh between punches to my face and neck. I grab him by the wrist and twist it just enough to pull him closer to me and look directly into his eyes. Nose to nose.
“You really wanna do this?” I ask him.
He spits at me. A mixture of blood and saliva. I lick it off my chin and send my own forehead barreling into his. Aleksandr stumbles backwards, bouncing off the chain link fencing all around us and huffs for air.
The crowd is screaming my name. Over and over again. It’s exhilarating, but they’re not who I really care about. Putting on a show for them is the least of my concerns. It’s not a bad perk, though.
Aleksandr grabs me by the front of my shirt with one hand and then digs his fingers into the side of my shoulder with his other one.
“I’m not about to back down,” he hisses cooly.
I grin at him and my head feels dizzy.
Every inch of me is hot and sweaty. My blood, which I very much need in my brain at the moment, is all flooding down to my dick and making it incredibly difficult to think.
I swipe at Aleksandr but miss, and he lands a hit square in my mouth. Blood drips from my busted lip and I wipe at it with my forearm, only smearing it around.
“Fight him! Get him! Kill him!” The crowd yells. Sometimes I can’t tell whether it’s for me or him.
