Fist to the Heart Chapter 6

Fist To The Heart – Ch. 6

By Laura S. Fox

Gay Erotica

Intended for Mature Audiences Only

This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.

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Chapter Six – For You, Always Johnny

His entire body was thrumming with delight. They were spooning, laying on one side and Johnny was moving in and out of his ass while nuzzling his neck slowly. Ruslan could barely believe it. First thing in the morning and they were like this. The man had great stamina. And bottomless desire, as it seemed.

Ruslan could get used to this. Hell, he could get addicted to this. To this man, if he truly wanted to be precise. He moaned softly as that was the only way to signal his bed partner that he was very much awake and very much enjoying the ministrations.

The weirdest thing of all if he was to think about was that the passion, the usual craving consuming him, seemed subdued, almost no longer there. It had just turned into satisfying languor, and everything felt softer, gentler now.

He bucked his hips only slightly.

"Want me to pick up the pace?" Johnny asked, his voice a bit hoarse from sleeping. "Want a fresh load fed to you, pretty? Your ass is so hungry. Damn, so hungry for my cock," the man whispered, making Ruslan tremble with desire.

So long, satisfying languor. He was waking up, and his body was already there, all his senses ready to be taken by this man who knew precisely the buttons to push to make Ruslan come undone.

"Yes, please," he whispered back.

Johnny said nothing but wrapped one strong arm over Ruslan's waist as the other dug into the plump flesh. Ruslan loved having his ass squeezed like that. The man intended to keep him in place.

Internally, he rejoiced. Was he finally going to feel how it was to be taken hard by this man?

"You know, it wouldn't sit well with your bad boy attitude if you only made sweet and gentle love to me," he snickered as the man continued fucking him slowly.

"Bad boy, huh? Funny, I thought I'd earned my place to be called a man."

"Hmm, yeah, but 'bad man' doesn't exactly sound right," Ruslan joked.

He was effortlessly turned on his belly, and this time, his bed partner seemed to get the cue. When Johnny pushed himself, all length and growing girth inside him, Ruslan gasped. The only lubrication he still had there was from the last times the man had come in his ass the previous night. He had come plenty. So Ruslan's ass was well enough lubricated for this.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured.

"You know, you might not like it," Johnny said. "I don't think you can come, just rubbing your dick against the bed."

"Let that be my worry, bad boy," Ruslan said over one shoulder.

Johnny pressed Ruslan's head down, into the pillows, firm, but not rough. Ruslan could feel the familiar excitement growing. It was not like him to come forward and admit it, at least not so plainly, not as honest as his body, how much he craved being used.

The bed was rattling now, but the short, sharp noises he was making could almost cover that. Or they just created the effect of an orchestra, or better yet, a rough tune that sounded lewd and wanting. He had never had the guts to let himself broken, truly broken. It was something akin to a perversion, always to tread on edge, but with no express wish to walk over the line.

His ass was feeling it. Hell, he was going to feel this for days, especially since he was so sensitive. Even that idle thought was giving him satisfaction. Careless of his wellbeing, he pushed his ass up and back into Johnny's thrusting hips.

"You like this?" Johnny's voice was strained and touched by an ounce of doubt. "Want me to fuck you like a used street whore?"

Ruslan tensed. His throat tightened. It was almost like he couldn't breathe.

It's all in your head, it's all in your head ... The mantra kept repeating. But no matter what his mind was fighting to achieve, his automatic nervous system denied.

His body jerked uncontrollably. A strength he didn't possess pushed him up and almost sent the man behind him flying out of bed.

"What the fuck?" Johnny exclaimed.

He was shaking now, the effect of the adrenaline release. Johnny grabbed him.

"Fuck, are you okay, man?"

He could hear the man as if his head was under water. Johnny turned his head and looked him in the eyes. And then, strong hands wrapped him in a tight embrace and kept him there, kept him warm, until the last tremble subsided.

It took him minutes to feel Johnny's rough fingers drawing slow circles on his shoulder blades. He could not remember a bed partner comforting him before. This was also new.

"Should I go get something?" Johnny asked. "Do you need the hospital?"

"No, don't worry," Ruslan fought to regain his composure while straightening up and slipping from the man's assuring embrace. "I just get this crazy ... My blood sugar drops."

"Sugar?" Johnny stared at him, shaking his head slightly as if an annoying winged bug was trying to get inside his ear. "Okay. Shouldn't you have medicine for this stuff?"

Ruslan wanted nothing but to run away from the inquisitive eyes. He stood his ground.

"I'm fine," he said, forcing himself to smile.

Johnny's reciprocating smile was a tad crooked. The man wasn't buying it, but it wasn't his business.

***

The pretty man had had quite the scare, Johnny watched Ruslan, as the guy's still slightly trembling fingers were grabbing the blanket which he had hurried to drape over the man's shoulders. But what could have scared him?

Ruslan had riled him up a little. Of course, that wasn't exactly a reason for him to take the bait. The man could run his mouth all he wanted; he wasn't into rough play. Not even rough acting. A few words were enough to set him off like that.

Okay, so no one ever had dared to call the pretty man a used whore. Johnny was stupid to have used those words. That was what he was: stupid. Prissy princes were not particular about being called names. They liked the danger, being treated roughly a little, but that was all. Some had asked him in the past, point blank, to call them names. But the boot he had gotten the next day was telling him everything he needed to know about that.

Princes could not be treated like whores. Not even when they asked for it. No matter what they said. No matter how much they thought that they wanted that. And, case in hand, Ruslan hadn't asked for this fucked up shit.

Yeah, he should have known better. He rubbed his forehead.

"Do you want me to get the hell out?" he pointed with one thumb over his shoulder, to the door, hand curled into a tight fist.

The blue eyes stared at him as if their owner couldn't get the question.

"Do you want to leave?" the pretty man's voice croaked.

Damn, did he? Not really. The man didn't look well, his pale face even paler, his skin flushed in places. No, he didn't.

"No," he shook his head.

"Okay," Ruslan mumbled. "Sorry about that. Really, you shouldn't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Is it because what I said?" Johnny asked bluntly.

He wasn't one to beat around the bush.

The blue eyes widened.

"No," the man answered quickly, looking away.

Yeah, he was stupid, Johnny concluded. He shouldn't have let his true colors show. That wasn't the kind of talk a pretty guy like this one could take. It was all about how he grew up or something. With a silver spoon in his mouth and all that. Yeah, no one talked like that to guys like Ruslan Kent.

Now he felt like he needed to take a hike. But that meant running. And Johnny didn't do running. Not anymore.

"I'm sorry, okay? Just got carried away, you know?" Johnny spoke gruffly, looking at his hands, covered in fading scars and new scabs from training too hard. "Didn't mean anything by that. You're nothing like that."

"Stop," the sharp word shut him up.

"Then I should get going," he replied.

"I told you I'm fine," Ruslan said again. "Can't you get it into your thick head?"

Johnny frowned. All right, so he had fucked up royally. But that didn't mean Ruslan could call him stupid. That was all on him and no one else.

"Watch it," he snarled as he pushed himself up. "I'm in no mood for your hissy fits. But here's my advice, pretty. Next time when you're with a man, and you want something, you better tell him straight up what you want. The likes of me can't guess what goes through the pretty heads of the likes of you."

He had wanted to apologize, and now he was just making it worse. Great. Well, it wasn't supposed to last, anyway.

"Ah, so you figured me out? Is that what you're trying to say?" Ruslan stood up, too, letting the blanket fall from his shoulders.

"Nah, I'm not all sophisticated like you. But thanks for the night and the tight ass. It was cool."

Ruslan's fingers dug into his arm, and, although the guy didn't have enough strength to keep him in place, Johnny stopped. The blue eyes showed hurt. Johnny sucked at saying sorry. So there was nothing he could do about those pretty eyes and whatever was they were telling him.

He watched the man moving his lips, giving him the address so he could call himself a cab.

***

Ruslan listened to the entrance door closing. It was better this way. Johnny had nothing to apologize for. Not that he could explain it. Especially not to a stranger. Not to anyone, if he was to think about.

He was starting to feel a little better. Drawing himself a bath was the right thing to do. Then, he would just rest. There was no point to overthink things. Johnny was out the door, and out of his life, most probably. So what? It wasn't like they knew each other since forever. And it was just what it was. Like Johnny had said. Cool.

He shivered and mostly pulled himself toward the bathroom. Nothing like a hot bath to put things in order. At least for the moment.

Hours later, his phone ringing woke him up from his slumber.

"Hey," he answered, rubbing his eyes.

"Sleeping so late, Russy? You're young, but these bad habits will get the better of you," the old man's paternal voice came through.

"I just had ... an interesting night," Ruslan replied.

He stretched and yawned. The pain in his backside, a bit remote, but not quite fading, stopped him. Nothing a couple of Tylenols couldn't solve. The man had been much gentler than Ruslan could have ever expected. And even that first time, the guy had taken his time, making sure his bed partner felt everything, except for pain.

It was all his body's fault he felt like that. He never let go. Not completely. Maybe he was lying to himself that resisting a little made it all right. Even with the risk of hurting afterward. And not only physically.

He had messed up this time. But he couldn't keep the man if he wanted. Did he want the man? By how well they had fit together the previous night, they were much compatible. Ruslan could hardly remember feeling so thoroughly satisfied. Except for Yanis.

Well, he still had Yanis. To think that he had refused his friend over Snake. But, to his defense, at that point, that had felt like the right thing to do.

"Russy," the old man broke him back to reality. "Should I come over?"

"Papa, don't treat me like I'm an invalid," he protested right away.

"I know who you spent your night with. And I also know he left the premises several hours ago. You know I won't intrude. Let me take you someplace nice. You seem down. Have you been ..."

"All right," Ruslan said a bit too brightly.

The old man didn't need to know everything, all the time. The man's care was a bit overbearing. Maybe it was because the old man had no children of his own. Seeing how much he showered Ruslan with his attention was making him wonder why the guy had never had kids. Had he ever been married? He realized he knew little about Douglas Kent.

"Have you ever thought about adopting? You know, before me," he pushed two pills at the back of his throat and swallowed them quickly with a mouthful of water.

"Adopting?" the man's voice was a bit surprised.

"Yeah, you know, kids. I bet that splitting your affection between multiple charges would have made things easier for all of them," he joked.

"Do you think I'm suffocating you, Russy?" the old man spoke with tenderness.

"I'm not really complaining," Ruslan laughed. "But you do like to treat me like I'm 12. Why not take a 12-year old under your wing? Or more? Two or three maybe?"

"I could not care enough for one," the man said wistfully.

Ruslan stopped. Ah, so there was some painful history there. He wasn't going to pry. If the old man thought him worthy of sharing such delicate family business with him, he was going to let him know.

"Sometimes I don't like it that you're all alone in that big house," he said.

"I should say the same thing," the old man chuckled. "And why do you say I'm all alone? I have Martin."

"Who is your butler or something. Employees don't count," Russy replied. "And you gave me this house. So that I could be independent and all."

"Yes, and I'm afraid I was too hasty in doing so," the old man said with mirth. "And Martin is not a simple employee. He is a friend."

"Yeah, I sort of noticed," Ruslan joked, feeling a little up to mischief. "But most people don't let their friends have the door when someone's ringing the bell."

The old man always let him get away with most things, and Ruslan liked to test boundaries once in a while. Not because he wanted to be rude. But he wanted to know more about the old man who was still an enigma to him, and that was the only way he could afford doing that.

For some reason, he was afraid to ask straight questions. Or he feared the answers.

"Martin doesn't mind," the old man replied. "He tells me that having nothing to do all day would drive him slightly mad. Plus, if he were to do nothing, we would have to hire another butler. And three would be a crowd."

Ruslan sat comfortably, fluffing the pillow.

"You two behave like you've been married for 50 years, I swear. Wait, do you two ... Nah, impossible," he shook his head.

"I have no idea what your childish reasoning is trying to tell me here," the old man spoke in a tone Ruslan knew too well that it meant that his papa was willing to indulge him.

"Well, you know. You two act like you're more than just employer and employee. Seriously, if one didn't know, they'd say you two are lovers or something. Damn, I just imagined you and Martin having sex. I think I need to cleanse that with a bunch of raunchy porn."

"I must say that I'm a tad offended, Russy," the old man chuckled at the other end. "Do you think old people don't have sex? Or that we've never been young? Or is it simply imagining our old wrinkled bodies engaged in intercourse that puts you off?"

Ruslan giggled.

"No, that's not it. I hope I get to look as good as you when I grow old. Seriously, papa, I saw you two guys sparring. Are you two planning to compete for the hottest granddads of the century? None of you shows his real age. But I do imagine sex between you and Martin being awfully polite. You would even address each other properly. Something like ... May I put it inside, sir? I should have ordered the premium lubricant, not this thing that only commoners would use. By all means, Martin, you should have placed that order. Do you think that we should postpone the intercourse, sir? Seeing that the conditions are not met, I do think so, Martin. How about next week? Next week would be perfect, sir. Should I write the date down? Certainly. And please don't forget the premium lubricant next time."

The old man laughed wholeheartedly.

"That is why I only want to have you as my protégé, Russy. You always make me laugh. But, just as a curiosity. What makes you think Martin would be the active participant and not the other way around?"

"I don't know," Ruslan shrugged. "You seem the kind to be serviced. Martin is ready to do anything for you. Except for putting out, though. He almost always looks like he has just swallowed a broomstick. That said, he seems too stiff to be a bottom. With all his eagerness to please, you would still not be able to tap that ass."

"I will let him know you said that," the old man laughed again.

"Ah, don't you dare!" Ruslan protested. "He'll slip some arsenic into my tea, I'm sure!"

"Martin loves you to death, Russy," the old man said.

"Yeah, exactly," Ruslan said while grinning. "But, seriously, are you two ... you know, humping each other? I won't judge if you are."

"That, my boy, is a silly question."

Of course it was silly. What was he thinking? Sometimes, he couldn't understand how the old man was letting him get away with everything like that.

"So, where do you plan to take me out?" he asked, feeling giddy like a kid.

The old man liked to surprise him. And it was quite a strange thing, but seeing the man so happy for making him happy was just ... making him feel whole. They both craved something they hadn't gotten in their lives until they had met each other.

Ruslan knew why he hadn't. An orphan for as long as he could remember, with just one friend to rely on. One hell of a friend, but otherwise, all alone in the world. The old man behaved as he had never truly been able to make someone happy in his life. And seeing how long the old man had lived, that said something.

Yes, the old man had Martin. But they were employer and employee after all. The man's family was a joke. Ruslan hadn't heard one mention of a wife. And everyone around the old man was only waiting for Douglas Kent to die so that they could pounce on the man's fortune like a pack of hyenas.

Not a too cheerful perspective. And if for some reason, the old man enjoyed treating Ruslan like his own kid, it was all that mattered.

He smiled as the man began talking excitedly, in his usual, subdued, dignified way, of course, about the new club where he wanted to take Ruslan. The Tylenols were starting to work. He was going to be all peachy for the evening out.

***

Johnny almost sent the speed bag flying off his hinges, as he rained his frustration over it. How the hell could he be so damn stupid? He had the chance to score, more than just once, with a guy who was everything he wanted in his life.

Hell, he was stupid. He put all his power behind the last punch and then headed for the exit. Since when he was star struck like some teenager? He had fucked the pretty man. That was enough. Should have been.

But he felt something like an itch he couldn't scratch. It was as if he could not find a place to sit or stay. Like his mind couldn't think of anything else but that man. Why the fuck was he worked up like that?

A hole was a hole. A body was a body. A mouth was a mouth. But, fuck, if he could take those damn blue eyes out of his head. He knew why. Somewhat. Guys like Ruslan Kent were everything he wasn't. So out of touch. But damn, if he was one to settle for what the entire world told him he deserved. He had made a way for himself, as little as it was, with his two fists. And, for what it was, for what he was doing, it was still more honest that whatever the rich men of the world did to build their big ass fortunes.

He needed himself straightened up and fast. He had something to do. First Monday of the month. For as long as he could. Only for that, it didn't matter what he could do. It wasn't up to him. But he wasn't one to keep a grudge with the Big Guy. Not that he was a believer or anything like that. For all the things he had no control over, there were others. Karma and shit. Most probably. Who the fuck knew?

***

"How's she?" he asked gruffly, as he signed into the guest book.

The nurse pursed her wrinkled lips.

"There are no changes. She's in and out of it."

Johnny just nodded and headed down the hallway. It felt like his shadow was taking something of the cleanliness of the place. His heavy steps broke the revered silence. Well, it was not like he wanted to be there. It was his duty.

He stopped in the door. She looked so peaceful, as she looked out the window. Her grey hair was pinned at the back with an ebonite clasp. At least, they were taking good care of her here. Washed her, dressed her, combed her hair, gave her food.

It was more than she had ever had in her life. She wasn't even that old. But she was sitting in a wheelchair, not because she couldn't walk, but mostly because she was so unaware of herself and everything surrounding her that she just didn't.

"Hey, Ma," he said, and his throat felt dry like sandpaper, each word fighting on its way upward.

The woman in the wheelchair didn't reply. Johnny took a few timid steps inside. Like his large body was clumsy and threatening to break something in the small room. Then, decided, he placed himself in front of her.

"Is school out already?" the woman looked at him now with her wistful glossy eyes that saw only what her illness chose. "Johnny, not in trouble again, are you?"

He knelt in front of her and took one of her hands into his. She didn't object, but her hand remained limp.

"You must learn," she continued. "Go to school, make something out of yourself. You don't want to end up like your father," she said sternly, but the tone of her voice didn't come with any change in her relaxed features.

It was like she was rehearsing for a play. What the hell pills were they giving her in here? It was the best place he could afford. It was clean. Humane. That was a word Johnny didn't know exactly what it meant. But his mom didn't look like she was hurting. That was good, right?

For that, he was willing to pour down to the last dime into this small room where his mom could live her last years, for as long as they were going to go. Without him fearing all the time for her. That they might find her.

Somewhat, he was blaming his old man, like she was. But he wasn't even sure she was really doing that. She was stuck in some weird loop from years ago. They were from a place where if trouble didn't find you, it meant that you were just one lucky bastard.

So he had taken everything in stride. The men who had kept knocking down their door, asking about his old man. The street fights. The thieving. The means to survive.

Of course, it hadn't taken long for him to end up in some stupid mess. But he had paid for it and then walked away. Now, it was all about picking a paycheck. And the means he had chosen was as close to being honest as they could be.

But still, he couldn't stomach the kind of people that had messed up his dad and ruined his mom's life. Rich people who were rich and fat because they fed on the lives of the poor people.

That was the way the world was built. And the fact that Johnny had gotten all hot and bothered over some piece of ass wasn't going to change that.

Yeah, he was stupid. But he was his kind of stupid. He played by his rules and his rules only.

***

It wasn't like him to feel out of sorts for so long. Ruslan could not believe he was bothered so much. He couldn't dwell on that. His thoughts were a mess. That only meant that something had to be done.

For two days now, Snake hadn't been to the gym. He was either training at his old place, or he planned on quitting. Or had already quitted. Ruslan's bets were all on the latter.

The cab dropped him by the place. Giving the driver a generous tip, he told the man to wait. The industrial building where Johnny's quarters were looked good enough to be dismantled and scrapped for materials. The cab driver was frowning, throwing cautious looks around. He was probably wondering what the hell a well-off man like his passenger could search for in a place like that.

Ruslan knew precisely what, or, more accurately, who. He inhaled deeply and stepped inside. From that night, he had had an idea about the outline of the place, so he didn't need a guide. There was no one tending the door, so no one to ask.

He stopped in the door to the gym, taking in the few fighters training at that hour. Johnny was grunting, hitting a heavy bag over and over.

Ruslan could have taken more time to admire the man. That impressive body was going to look good on the posters. He had told the truth that night. The man's scars weren't grossing him out. They were the man's personal history. And they had made him who he was. This snake hadn't needed to shed his old skin to be born anew. He had just toughened.

Ignoring the few glances the other men in the room threw at him, he walked purposefully toward Johnny's stand.

"I would say you're in top shape," he commented.

The man turned fast on his heels. His face was all granite as he stared at Ruslan.

"You're a bit far away from home," the fighter spoke and grabbed a towel to throw it over his shoulder.

Ruslan walked with him, as Johnny marched out of the room.

"I'm here to ask you if our gym was not to your satisfaction," he asked.

"For real?" Johnny asked, staring Ruslan down, or better said, trying.

Ruslan sustained the man's angry stare.

"Despite our little misunderstanding, I still think you should train at our gym," he explained.

For a second, it looked like Johnny was going to say something inevitably unpleasant. Ruslan was ready for that. Instead, the man turned again, resuming his walk toward his room.

"Is Efige so generous that lets people off the street train there?"

"Ah," Ruslan sighed. "So you don't plan on coming back? I thought you needed the money."

He gasped when Johnny grabbed him and pressed him into the wall. But he didn't back away from the naked hurt in the dark eyes.

"Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in his damn mouth, like you," Johnny hissed. "And don't you worry about what I need. I can take care of myself."

Ruslan felt like laughing. So Johnny thought him to be some rich trust fund kid. Not that he needed much confirmation for that. The old man had worked hard to force the streets out of him. He dressed nicely, he talked correctly, and he behaved as he belonged by the old man's side.

But that didn't change who he was. How he had been born, probably. How he had been living until 16. What he had done to survive. And there was still one thing the old man could not un-teach him. Or, otherwise, he wouldn't be here.

"You're one hell of a fighter, Johnny," he said softly. "You can make a name for yourself. We would just offer you the ladder. You would be the one to climb it. No one's taking your hard work away from you."

Johnny started laughing.

"Wow, you do have a way with words. It looks like your sweet lips are good at more than just one thing."

So the man was trying to rile him up now. Make him walk away. But this time, Ruslan was prepared.

"It's the truth," he said, in the same even tone. "Of course, it is your choice."

"Nah, you don't come with the package. So, not that much of a choice," Johnny leaned in, then brusquely pushed himself back.

"If it's that important, I'm still part of the deal," Ruslan hurried after the man again.

"Not shit, pretty," Johnny snorted. "Sorry, you're good, but I'm not some pity fuck. Go screw guys in your own league. What's the matter? Can't they get it up enough? Not even for a pretty man like you? Or it's you who can't get off unless you get fucked by some low life like me?"

Johnny was maybe not so off the mark. This time, a small laugh escaped his lips.

"What? Did I say something funny?" the fighter looked crossly at him, as Ruslan had managed to fall in step with him.

"Not really, no. You just got some things wrong. Not all, but some."

"No shit. Like how? You're just a prissy prince who wants a hard dick but cannot commit to what that means. Get off your high horse, rich boy. The world might not look pretty from down here, but at least it's real."

Ruslan wanted to add something, but the man walked quickly into his room and unceremoniously shut the door in his face. All right, he wasn't going to beg. He needed to regroup and rethink. If he wanted Snake in his papa's ring and his bed, he needed to be smarter than this.

***

Johnny half expected the pretty man to insist and knock on his door. But the shadow outside, interrupting the thin light line between the door and the floor, just moved away.

Great. Just as he was working the asshole out of his system, he had to come here and flaunt in front of Johnny what he couldn't get. Not for real.

He had to keep telling himself he was not that stupid. For a second there, he had thought about dragging the guy inside and giving him a hard cold fuck. But no, that wouldn't have been right.

If the pretty man wanted to show Johnny where they stood, he had made his point. No use to rile him up again. No matter how much Ruslan Kent deserved to be nailed to the bed, taken hard and then kicked out with an ass full of jizz.

Damn, they had been so damn hot together. Johnny stepped into the cramped shower. No Ritz here. No bathtub the size of the shitty bathroom. That was his world.

And Ruslan Kent better stay away, he thought, as the lukewarm water began slushing down his body. Better stay away, or he was going to get it real bad.

Plus, the guy had plenty of other guys to screw around with. A body like that? A face like that? And daddy's money? He could hire the top shelf type of escort every night.

Yet, he had come for Snake, the low life fighter. He had come even after they had fallen out. Just because his papa wanted Snake in his ring?

Nah, he was getting stupid again. Did he want that much for a rich boy like Ruslan to like him? Like really like him?

No way that could be. Ruslan was just pissed over Snake telling him no.

And Johnny was pissed for not having said yes to whatever the guy was offering.

He wasn't going to walk away, he decided. No, even if he was shooting for the stars, it was his right to fly high, break his wings, and then fall and break his back, too. But hell if he wasn't going to fight for what he wanted.

Ruslan Kent better not fuck some other dude. Johnny `Snake' Bryne was still in the cards, and he was all in, until the final round.

The anger from earlier was leaving his body with the suds of soap, down the drain. It had to be the right decision. He could not care less if Ruslan only wanted to play around.

***

"Why the fuck are you this pissed?" Yanis looked at him as he took some folders from his desk drawer and slammed them on the shiny lacquered surface. "I thought you were now getting enough on the regular."

"Don't remind me," Ruslan rolled his eyes.

His efforts of putting Snake out of his mind had proven useless. Apparently, he was that much of a whore, after all. He stopped from fiddling with the papers. Actually, the solution was right in front of him.

"How about we go together somewhere we can relax?" he said, giving up on finding the file that seemed to have magically disappeared.

Yanis grinned at him.

"Which one you want? Stiff drink? Stiff dick? Or both?" his friend wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"I think both," Ruslan answered.

That's what he liked about him and Yanis. They didn't need that many words between them. They found the same convenience and assurance in each other as they have always had. And there were no strings attached.

"No plans with the missus tonight?" Ruslan asked.

Yanis waved one hand like he was fed up with everything.

"C'mon, man, Anya's good for you. Maybe too good," he added with a small laugh.

"I thought you wanted to fuck tonight. It looks to me like you better see me out the door."

"Let's just get smashed then. We'll see where we go from there."

Yanis stood up and came behind the desk, next to him.

"Are you going to make doe eyes at me?" Ruslan joked.

"Nah, I'm just trying to figure out if you're lying. Because, man, I don't think I've ever seen you this pissed."

"Ha, ha," Ruslan pretended to laugh. "It looks to me like you don't know me that well."

"Yeah, maybe. Who the hell knows what happens in other people's heads?" Yanis shrugged.

"Damn, Anya's really giving you a run for your money," it was Ruslan's turn to snicker. "What did she do that you're suddenly so philosophical about humankind?"

Yanis grimaced and frowned.

"She wants a ring, man."

"So, what's the problem? Only I give you enough money each month for you to care naught about putting food on the table. Not to count your side gigs. You don't gamble, and you don't do other stupid shit, as far as I know. So I assume you have enough money for a ring."

Yanis made a face that Ruslan couldn't stop from laughing in his face.

"Do you still want my dick?" Yanis grinned, too, a sign that he didn't take to heart all that teasing over his domestic problems. "Because running your mouth about me getting hitched will only make me limp."

"All right, all right," Ruslan waved. "I'm just saying. You should take her up on the offer."

"Seriously?" Yanis eyed him carefully. "And where would that leave you?"

Ruslan opened his mouth and closed it. That was a question he hadn't expected.

***

The door to the man's office was not kept by some secretary, but by a huge ass bouncer, and Johnny knew that well. So he entered the hallway moving quickly on his feet and with a worried expression on his face.

"Hey, man," he addressed the bouncer, "there's some shit going on in the roulette room, or something. It looks like they need more hands on deck."

The overpaid gorilla looked at him, and his face must have been pretty convincing because the man walked away almost running. It was probably because the guy had seen him before, so he was perhaps not a threat to the boss's son.

He didn't even knock. This wasn't, after all, about playing nice. And Ruslan Kent had to get that through his pretty head once and for all.

"What the fuck?"

Those words weren't exactly his idea for a welcome, and the fact that there was someone else there to speak them, not Ruslan, was even more of a nasty surprise. He was already in the middle of the room, and what he was seeing was pissing him off.

Some low life character was all over the pretty man. It hadn't taken Ruslan much to find some willing dick. Not that he was surprised at that. But he wasn't going to back down, so he pushed the door behind him, making it rattle in its hinges.

"Snake, man," Ruslan spoke. "How did you get inside? I ..."

"We have to talk," Johnny said, gesturing with one hand. "Just you and me," he added, looking at the other guest.

He hoped his eyes were telling the guy to piss off more than any words could.

"Rain check?" Ruslan patted the guest's shoulder with familiarity Johnny didn't like.

"Seriously? For this guy?" the other said roughly and moved aside just so that he could show off a little.

Okay, so the fucker wasn't some skinny asshole. He packed some heat under that ugly as shit flowery shirt. Where could have Ruslan picked up this dude? He looked rough, with his one-day stubble and eyes shining like a devil's.

"Yeah, sorry," Ruslan grabbed the guy by one shoulder and made him look at him. "Talk to you later. You don't have plans to go out of town this week, do you?"

"I might buy a ring," the asshole grinned.

Johnny frowned. What kind of fucking joke was that? What did a ring have to do with anything? To piss him even more, Ruslan laughed, and the guy embraced him.

"Let me know if you do," Ruslan embraced the man back. "We would really have to celebrate."

"Sure thing," the guy replied and made Ruslan bend awkwardly in a tango-like pose, making the other laugh almost hysterically.

The asshole raised his eyes to look at Johnny and grinned. Then, just like that, he kissed Ruslan loudly. This time, though, the pretty man pushed the guy away.

"Seriously, Yanis," Ruslan wagged the finger at the guy.

"Hmm-hmm," was the only reply. "See you, love," the guy added and began marching toward the door.

And didn't stop from brushing against Johnny's shoulder on his way out. Johnny wasn't going to let that slide, so he grabbed the asshole by his shirt. The guy was going to meet either the door or a wall with his ugly mug.

"C'mon," the guy challenged him, "let me see what you got."

The hands wrapping around his wrists were callous and strong. So the guy thought himself some big shot. He was in for some rude awakening because Johnny always won.

"Guys, guys," Ruslan reached them in two steps and pushed them away from one another. "This is not the place or time for some pissing contest."

Despite Ruslan's efforts, Johnny still had his hands on the guy's shirt, and it didn't look like the asshole wanted to let go, either. All right, so he was going to be a gentleman. He pushed the guy away, and the grip on his wrists eased and slid away.

"Thank you," Ruslan exhaled. "Come on, Yanis, go."

"Are you sure? This asshole looks like he's looking for trouble," the guy pointed at Johnny.

"No, he's not."

Ruslan had spoken so fast he hadn't had the time to give the little shit a piece of his mind. He was about to when Ruslan put a hand on his chest and rested the other on his shoulder. Pretty blue eyes stared up at him. He didn't need any words to know what was happening.

He could have played the stupid ape part. Pretend he didn't get it. But Ruslan begged too nicely with those eyes.

"Ah, man, so he's allowed to make doe eyes at you?" the guy complained.

"Who the fuck is making doe eyes?" Johnny asked gruffly.

He was getting fucking soft and all because of a pair of beautiful blue eyes and a tight ass hungry as fuck for his low life fighter's cock. Eh, he was going to let this one pass. He and the other guy? They were going to meet again. And then Johnny was going to show the asshole who was top dog.

"Yes, he is allowed," Ruslan answered and let go of Johnny so that he could push the asshole out the door.

The bouncer was on the other side, breathing heavily like he had been running.

"Boss, did someone interrupt your meeting?" the man spoke.

"It's okay," Ruslan waved, blocking the view as much as he could.

It was clear as day that the bouncer was looking for him with his eyes. They found him, and the guy wanted to say something, but Ruslan managed somehow to push both the guest and his bodyguard out and close the door.

"So," Ruslan's eyes squared in him, and this time, they weren't begging. "You barge in here, somehow you manage to get rid of the man in front of my door, and basically cockblock me. This better be good."

Johnny took in the man's perfect clothes. The guy had good taste. The money, too. But Johnny knew that taste was not something money could always buy. That much he knew. His mom had had something to do with that, teaching him a lot of things. Wanting to see him more than just an asshole beating the crap out of other assholes.

But he wasn't here to think about his mom.

"I came to tell you that I want that deal."

"Hmm," Ruslan began moving. "Are you serious this time? Because you don't look like you are. I thought your position was clear."

Johnny followed the man, just one step behind him.

"I wanted to say sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I'm not good at this. But I'm damn sorry."

His voice sounded nothing like he was apologizing, but, hell, he needed to say it. And, also, to show this pretty man how serious he was about this.

"What exactly are you sorry for, Snake?" Ruslan spoke and turned to face him.

"For saying those stupid words. I'm stupid, okay?"

Ruslan sighed.

"Okay. You're back on the tournament. You weren't away enough to cause a disruption. Feel free to train where you wish. Anything else you want?"

Johnny frowned. What the fuck? He had said the words. Admitted to how stupid he was. And Ruslan still thought it was because of that stupid tournament?

"Yeah," he said and backed the man into the wall behind him. "You."

Ruslan did a good job pretending he wasn't impressed by Johnny's clearly superior strength. But his breath was deepening, coming in short. Yeah, sweet lips could run his mouth all he wanted. He was after the same thing.

"What about me?" the words came out as a sexy drawl.

Johnny leaned in. Damn, the pretty man smelled nice. Their noses touched, and Ruslan snickered. All right, it was time to shut him up. The soft lips opened wide from the first attack and Johnny pushed his tongue deep. The man was sucking on it, making all kinds of noises, using his own tongue to push into Johnny's mouth, too.

Without even looking, Johnny maneuvered the guy until they stopped against the desk. It took him just one sweep of the hand to make all the papers fly and land on the floor. Other stuff that was there followed.

He bet the pretty man had a maid to clean that up. Hiking the man by his hips, he helped him with his ass on the desk. At the same time, he began pulling at the guy's waistcoat. That was the easy part. The shirt was a different thing. His fingers caught in a stubborn button and, with a low growl, he tore the fabric.

"Wow," Ruslan commented, but he was busy, too, pushing Johnny's t-shirt up, and feeling up the muscles underneath.

***

He could not believe himself sometimes. It was enough for this man to put his hands on him, and he was going down like that. He was a whore, that much he knew, but never before had he folded and laid himself, legs open, like that.

Usually, he was in control. This situation was making him vulnerable, and it was pretty strange that Snake, of all people, some good for nothing fighter, as the old man had labeled the guy, was making him squirm and ask for it like that.

It was impossible to think, nonetheless. The tongue in his mouth was short-circuiting his brain, and the hands searching and probing him anywhere were igniting his desire as pure fuel poured over a fire.

If Snake was going to tear his pants, too, he was going to get pissed. So he got busy himself to undress the bottom part of his body, which, in itself, proved difficult, with those impatient hands all over him, now sneaking between his legs and reaching for the prize.

He almost banged his head against the desk, as Snake pushed him back, and wrapped one hand around his cock, while quick fingers reached for his backdoor. The hand getting busy with his ass stopped for a second, and the next, he heard the man spit.

He shivered. So it was going to be a bit rough. He didn't mind. His breath stopped for a second, as the man moved around, and there was soon the pleasant sensation of a tongue in his ass.

"Hold your legs like this," the man ordered quickly, "'cause I need to eat this hole."

His usual trysts weren't particular about rimming him, and Ruslan, for the lack of it, loved it. He bit into one hand to stop himself from moaning like a bitch in heat, as Johnny worked his hole nicely. The man had a way to eat ass that had to be written in books or something. After a few minutes, he was a quivering mess, and he needed something more. Bigger. Longer. Thicker.

"Fuck, you really like this," he whispered. "Are you going to fuck me already?"

"Already," Johnny said amused and stood up.

Ruslan eyed with a not so familiar tad of unease, the angry looking cock directed straight at him. The man used more of his saliva to make himself slick and pushed his cock at the right angle.

All his nerve endings tingled as Johnny's cock tip touched his entrance. There was no way he was stretched enough, and hell, it was going to hurt, but, just the same, he was going to get himself lost in the sensation, and live with it, because that was what he wanted, he truly, truly wanted.

"Ah, damn, so fucking tight," Johnny commended him, postponing the penetration, and just teasing the sensitive skin.

"How can you tell? You're not even inside," Ruslan scowled.

"Shut up, pretty. You don't know what you need."

"Seriously? I don't?" Ruslan pushed himself on his elbows, to stare at the guy.

He loved Johnny's eyes, he noted. Not because they were dark like sin, and tempting just as much. But because the guy was looking at him, really looking at him. Like the man wanted to reach inside his soul.

"What?" he asked, unnerved by the silence, and the way the man was still using his cock to draw small circles around the waiting orifice, without going in.

His throat was dry. Was this a good idea, after all? A small push and Johnny stopped, their eyes still connected.

"I'll take you easy," Johnny spoke. "I'm big, and your hole is tight as fuck."

"Oh, please," Ruslan rolled his eyes. "I can handle it. You know I can."

Johnny shook his head and grabbed one of Ruslan's legs. He sank his teeth in the sensitive flesh of the inside thigh, making Ruslan gasp.

"What the hell, dude?" Ruslan protested. "You're going to leave a mark."

"Counting on it," Johnny grinned and pushed slowly again.

"Ah, damn," Ruslan let his head down, with a resigned sigh. "This is going to take all day. FYI, I should leave work in about one hour or so."

"That's plenty of time," Johnny spoke.

Another fraction of an inch. This guy was going to drive him nuts. His cock twitched in sympathy with his frustration.

"How can this be what I need?" Ruslan complained. "Just give me your big fat cock already. Here," he moved so he could reach one of Johnny's hips with one hand, to make his intentions known.

Johnny grabbed his hand and, as he pushed it away, he leaned over Ruslan, his breath hot. Ruslan made a small annoyed sound as his wrist was held tightly and pressed into the desk. But he had no time to protest again, because Johnny kissed him, and with that, most of his dick pushed inside.

He squirmed, the stretching almost unbearable. Johnny deftly reached for his other hand, and now he was held wrists above the head, utterly powerless, while the hot spear in his ass was moving, giving him now what he truly wanted.

He wanted to groan and moan like an animal, fed up with keeping it in, as the sensation in his ass grew in intensity. Johnny knew how to move, how to fuck, an expert indeed, in giving a bottom like Ruslan what he wanted. The man was still kissing him, coming to him like a wall of muscles, keeping him in place, while Ruslan could feel his insides turning to mush.

Johnny's tight abs were rubbing his dick in passing, and it wasn't enough, so he tried to pull at least one hand free. The man pushed himself up, finally releasing him, and, with desperation, Ruslan grabbed his cock to pump it hard.

"Look at me, pretty," Johnny said. "C'mon, bite your lips, show me how much you want my cock."

"Fuck, Snake," Ruslan murmured.

Usually, he would have found the sex talk a bit awkward. But, somehow, this man was making everything right.

"No, not Snake. Johnny. For you, always Johnny," the man spoke, and Ruslan threw his head back.

The man was increasing the rhythm now, pounding him hard, and when he came, he had to swear that he could not remember to have come with that kind of intensity in a long time. It compared, maybe, with his other times with Johnny, but, still, there was something else there, and he kept himself there, chasing that feeling, that sensation, as his body jerked shortly, a few more times.

"Only one time now, sugar," Johnny cooed, "'cause I'm a man, too."

He didn't mind. Hell, he had no idea whether he could be ready again, which was strange. The man was working his ass hard now, in short, powerful thrusts, and he would have wanted to get hard, but he couldn't, and it was just so totally fine, that he couldn't care less.

His ass twitched as Johnny came. When the man pulled out, he could feel the jizz gushing out. He reached his asshole with one hand, playing with it.

"Wow, someone was locked and loaded," he joked.

Johnny grinned and played with Ruslan's drying semen.

"No shit."

The man helped him off the desk, and Ruslan winced and rubbed his lower back.

"Doing it on a table must be so overrated," he said with mirth.

Johnny pulled him close.

"So, we have a deal?"

"What was it, again?" Ruslan asked.

"Don't tell me I really fucked your brains out," Johnny joked.

Ruslan punched the guy's chest weakly.

"All right. My ass is yours while the tournament happens," he said, burying his head into the man's sweaty chest. "On weekends," he added.

"Nah, not just on weekends," Johnny said. "You're my main squeeze, remember?"

Ruslan laughed.

"Ah, damn, you're a riot."

"Laugh all you want. I won't let you run around. Especially not with that kind of asshole."

"Yanis?" Ruslan asked although he had witnessed enough to know those two men were going to have a hard time liking each other. Yanis could be such an ass when he wanted. He had riled up Johnny, knowing well what that meant.

"Whatever the asshole's name is," Johnny replied. "I don't want you near him. Especially near his dick. I don't know what he told you, but I bet he has a tiny dick."

"Gosh, you sound like papa," Ruslan laughed. "Yanis is an old friend. Don't get worked up over him. He just loves to get on people's nerves, that's all."

"Friend? How can you have that kind of friends? I bet your old man doesn't like it."

"That's okay. He doesn't have to," Ruslan shrugged. "I can deal with papa, and, I can deal with you," he pushed one finger against Johnny's chest.

"Okay, but don't go fucking your friends around," Johnny said gruffly.

"With all the action from your cock? I suppose I can keep from doing that," Ruslan teased.

Rough fingers caught his chin and made Ruslan look up. The dark eyes were serious now.

"I'll screw you. I'll give you what you need, okay?"

"Wow, we've only met, and you're so full of yourself," Ruslan tried to shake off the hypnotic gaze. "You really think you know what I want."

"I do," Johnny said solemnly. "You want to be treated right. Fucked into the next day, but treated right. And I'll do that. I'll keep you damn satisfied. If you get horny at two o'clock in the morning, call me. I'll come and make sure you call in sick the next day."

"Wow, that doesn't exactly sound like gentle loving," Ruslan said.

"Ah, pretty, you won't call in sick `cause I ruined your ass. You'll do that because you won't want to leave the bed. You'd just be wanting another round, that's all."

"Oh, seriously," Ruslan rolled his eyes.

The man kissed him. Keeping his head with one hand, and brushing his lips over him, just like in the frigging movies. Ruslan was hoping he wasn't lifting one foot, like some 50's heroine.

TBC

Author's note:

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