It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the sight of Aleksandr before me. He’s panting for breath, dripping with sweat that glistens on his skin, and his blood… Well, it soaks into the collar of his shirt and only makes him look that much more hot.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I breath out as I step in closer to him.
His eyes widen and he glances downward for a split second. “Is this really turning you on, Tommy?” he asks me. Calling me that nickname for the first time since we met. Until now, he has only called me by my full name.
I glance down at his crotch and see a slight tenting there as well, knowing very well that the other man is just as aroused as I am.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, baby,” I tease him.
He growls under his breath and launches himself at me. Hitting, kicking, and I’m pretty sure, biting. I can feel his teeth against my ear and I let out a low moan against my will.
“You sick fucking freak,” he tells me.
I push him away from me with all my strength, but he clings to me, and we go tumbling to the floor.
Aleksandr’s back thuds against the hard wet floor. I quickly move on top of him, straddling his hips and wrap my hands around his throat. His neck is thinner than mine, but just holding it… I can imagine what it would be like to have his hands around my own throat.
There’s a large part of me that wishes we were the other way around right now. That my back was against the cold concrete floor and he was on top of me.
Nevertheless, I push down harder, putting more pressure against his windpipe. His hands grab at my arms and shoulders desperately.
I can see the panic in his eyes, and it makes my heart feel like a hummingbird in my chest.
“Don’t like it?” I ask him breathlessly, “Or…” I push my hips down against his just enough to feel his hard length through his pants. “Or maybe you like it just as much as I do.”
My voice is low and breathless. I’m certain that no one else can hear me but him. His eyes start to burn with heat instead of the iciness I’m used to. He pushes his hips against mine, and I know in this moment he feels the same way.
All I need to do is squeeze just a bit tighter and I’ll be able to choke him the fuck out. He won’t last long without air. He’ll die under my hands.
Blood will ooze from his nose and mouth, and I’ll feel his very last breath against my face.
I can feel his pulse against my palms. Fast and heavy.
With just a bit more force, I can feel the very last one…if I just do it.
I stare down at him breathlessly. At the blood, the sweat, and the tears that are pooling at the corners of his eyes.
Someone will kill Aleksandr eventually—that’s how it always goes. Just like someone will eventually take me out.
Why not me? Why don’t I simply end Aleksandr’s suffering sooner rather than later? He’s told me just about all I need to know. I’m sure I could find out more information from someone else.
Winning this fight means showing the crowd I’m not putting up with anyone’s bullshit. It means showing the Bianchi that I’m not scared of them.
It also means two other things.
One, that the Rose will no longer side with me.
Two, that Aleksandr Volkov will be dead.
I’ll never hear his voice again, never see his face again…and I’ll never know what it’s like to feel his naked body pressed against my own.
I pull my hands back from his neck and slide off him.
The crowd starts to go quiet in their confusion.
Sliding onto my knees and then pushing up onto my feet, I reach for Aleksandr and offer him my hand. He looks up at me with cautiousness in his eyes, but then takes my hand, and let’s me pull him up from the floor.
“Do it,” I tell him. “Kill me.”
