Fist to the Heart Chapter 9
Fist To The Heart – Ch. 9
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2019 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
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 Nine – The Green-Eyed Monster
Johnny looked at the man, too, standing his ground. He was still waiting for the other to talk. Depending on the opponent, he either waited for the guy to make the first move, or went for the kill. The former happened when he didn't know his opponent. He had respect for what he had yet to learn about the man in front of him. And, unlike others, he knew to be patient. If he waited long enough, his enemy was going to show his true colors, and he was going to know where he stood.
Yet the silence was now stretching between them. The waitress approached their table, shuffling her feet. She stood by, waiting. Just like them, she wasn't saying a word, either.
Not for long.
"Are you gonna order somethin'?" she asked the older Mr. Kent directly.
"A coffee, please," the man said, enunciating every word, and slowly pulling out his leather gloves.
Johnny was damn curious. He knew who Douglas Kent was, had even seen him a few times from afar, but never talked to him. He wasn't interested in the guy. Why should he?
"You seem to have made quite an impression on my son," the man finally began speaking.
Johnny said nothing. What was he to say to that?
"So?" he eventually spoke, seeing that the other was silent again.
Now, if he looked closely, he had the feeling he could see some similarities between Ruslan and his old man. It wasn't much, but still. It proved that the guy's trophy wife hadn't had her baby with the driver or the gardener. Well, Douglas Kent might have been something in his prime. The man looked good for a guy his age. He was dignified, a bit thin, and his brown eyes were scrutinizing without fear. And he had that air of elegance about him that said the guy had been born into money.
This guy knew how to read his opponents, too. That meant that Douglas Kent was not someone anyone with half a brain should underestimate. And Johnny had half a brain still intact, no matter how many hits to the head he had gotten in his life. Fewer than his opponents, that was for sure. And all that mattered.
And all the more reason for Johnny to keep his mouth shut and give away nothing.
"You are a good fighter," the man continued. "I like your explosive style. I heard you also have endurance, too. A powerful combination."
The waitress almost slammed the man's coffee on the table. Johnny ground his teeth for a second. The woman could have shown a bit more care, seeing who decided to have a coffee in that old dump.
He caught himself in time. Why the hell did he care if Douglas Kent was treated like crap and got lousy service? It wasn't like people there cared for the likes of the guy. Just like the man's golden world cared naught for poor people.
Douglas Kent thanked the woman for the coffee, without showing for one second that he was bothered by her behavior.
"My son," Douglas Kent began again, "is meant for greater things in this world."
"You mean more than wasting his time with some guy like me," Johnny cut the man's words.
"Yes," the reply came right away.
"So? What do you want?" Johnny said roughly and began digging into his steak.
It was a bit chewy and leathery, but it was pure protein, and that was all that counted.
"For you to heed my words," Douglas Kent frowned as he looked at the coffee cup, probably considering whether he was going to drink that crap or not.
"Shoot," Johnny said, with a small shrug.
"Keep things simple. I understand why Ruslan likes you. I may be old, but I still remember the thrill one could get from an exciting affair. Especially a young heart," the man said, and pushed the coffee cup away discreetly.
"Simple how?" Johnny gestured with his fork.
Somehow he wasn't hungry anymore.
"Don't fill Ruslan's head with empty promises. There are much better prospects lining up for him, and he doesn't need the complication."
Johnny could feel the itch to tell Ruslan's papa to fuck off. But he knew better. That was exactly what his opponent was expecting. For Johnny to behave like an uncivilized ape and then put him down, feeling all superior while dressed up in designer clothes and never having had to endure hunger, real hunger, for a day in his posh life.
So he put his fork down and looked into his plate for about two seconds.
"Mr. Kent," he started and looked up.
The old man's eyebrows rose about a fraction of an inch. Enough for Johnny to know he got the guy's attention.
"It looks like you raised Ruslan well. Other guys like him, his age, and with that kind of money, would spit on someone like me. But not him. He's a good guy. And I'd never do something to be ashamed of to someone like that."
And that was all he had to say on the matter.
Douglas Kent eased back into his seat.
"I must admit, Mr. Bryne, I am a tad surprised. Thank you for commending me on my parenting skills. And I do say so without an ounce of irony. It is rare that I am wrong in my assumptions about people, but in this case, I have to stand corrected. You are different than what I imagined. Very well."
"So, does that mean I have your blessing to date your son?" Johnny grinned.
Douglas Kent chuckled.
"The same recommendation still stands. I'm glad that you seem to be a more considerate young man than I pegged you to be. Let me throw a wild guess. Did your mother take care of you not to take the wrong path?"
Johnny tensed. What did this guy know about his mom?
"She must be proud of you," the man continued. "But Ruslan can and will do better. Please don't take it the wrong way. I have only the best interest in mind for him. Just like your mother must have for you."
"Ruslan can think for himself," Johnny set his chin high. "Or don't you think he can?"
"Oh, I do think that. But when young men like you are involved, I'm afraid thinking is not at all what Ruslan is doing. And, for that, I must tell you. Have fun. You are both young and like to run a bit wild. But don't imagine you can go further than this. I will have something to say about it. Men like you will come and go all the time. But family is forever. And when Ruslan chooses, he will choose the right thing."
Johnny could feel his fists curling tight. He wasn't even thinking about anything beyond surviving the next week, and people around him thought he was ready to say some vows with Ruslan Kent, a pretty man from the right side of the tracks. It was so unbelievable it wasn't even funny.
And it was damn pissing him off. Proving people wrong was what he did best, in the cage, and outside of it.
"With all due respect, Mr. Kent, whatever happens between Ruslan and me is none of your damn business. You think you have me all figured out. It's not right. And I'll prove myself to you."
"How? Fighting? I have already told you, Mr. Bryne ..."
"Johnny," he interrupted the other. "Call me Johnny. I'll be around a lot. So get used to me, Mr. Kent."
"Ah, I see. Well, life is not the ring, Johnny."
"Nah, that's where you're wrong, Mr. Kent," Johnny interrupted the man again. He wasn't worried that he was stepping on the guy's toes, now. "Life is just like the ring."
"I suppose you're young and this attitude is understandable," Douglas Kent said with a sigh, and he linked his fingers while resting his hands on the table. The mere sight of the peeling veneer against that perfect manicure made the presence of the man odd in that place. "In the ring, there are still rules. You know who is attacking you. You have your muscles, your determination, your training, by your side. But what can you do if all your strength is taken from you?"
"Is that a threat?" Johnny asked bluntly.
The man shook his head.
"No. Consider it friendly life advice. Ruslan will eventually tire of you. I just wanted to save him a little grief, seeing that there is a risk that you might be the one to walk away first. And to make it clear, you don't have to worry about me not playing fair. But, as Ruslan's guardian, I still must put him above else. Is that clear enough, young man?"
"Clear as day," Johnny nodded shortly. "But just to answer your question from before. Yeah, people can take away your strength in real life. I looked down the barrel of a gun. I'm not stupid. But unless they're willing to be done with me for good, there's something they can't take away from me."
"Please continue. What you are saying is rather interesting," Douglas Kent encouraged him.
Johnny tapped his index finger against his temple.
"I won't forget. And whoever wrongs me, better watch over his shoulder. `Cause I'll come for him. One day or another."
The old man was examining him with unhidden interest.
"I am aware of your old history, Johnny. I must commend you for the torch you're holding to your father."
Johnny struggled with the lump in his throat as his eyes dropped to his plate again. So Ruslan's dad knew about him.
"Not my father," he struggled to get the words out.
"Ah, of course, please forgive me," Douglas Kent said. "Your mother then. You are a good son, Johnny. But you should forgive your father. He's not the traitor you think him to be."
Johnny's head snapped up that the bones in his neck almost popped.
"Did you know him?" he asked, his throat dry.
"I only know the facts. And I do believe I still have my faculties in all working order. Of course, I'm not emotionally invested, as you are."
"Have you told Ruslan? About my family?" Johnny asked.
"No. It is not my business to do so. And just to make it clear, I always check the people I intend to hire. This has nothing to do with my son and what the two of you do together. But you're an intense man. You, most probably, face uncertainty, every second of your life. This is another reason why I think you would not be good for my son. Spare him the complications you come along with. It is a simple request. Should you be in my place, you would think the same."
Johnny had to admit he felt a little less pissed now. The guy made sense. But that didn't mean he wanted Ruslan less.
"I'll do it," he said without thinking. "I'll change your mind."
"Oh?" the man expressed his surprise. "I don't see how you will be able to do so. There is no possible way for you to change who you are."
"I'll prove my worth," Johnny said stubbornly. "About how I'll do that, let that be my business."
Douglas Kent reached for his wallet and took out a twenty. He placed it neatly on the table.
"No. Put that back," Johnny said. "I don't want you to pay for my meal."
"Who's to say I don't want to leave the waitress a tip?" Douglas Kent started putting back his gloves and made no gesture to take back the money.
"A tip? What for?" Johnny snorted. "Outstanding service? Or the best coffee you've ever had in your life?"
Douglas Kent laughed softly as he stood up.
"You are an interesting man, Johnny Bryne. Well, as young people say today. I do accept your challenge. Feel free to try to convince me you're the right man for my son. Change my mind, as you said. I am a fair man. Which doesn't exclude the possibility of failure on your part. But I salute your determination. Should you decide to drop off the challenge, I won't hold it against you. And I assure you that I'll do everything I can to point Ruslan the right way, but also that I won't fight dirty. Please enjoy your meal."
Johnny stood there, without touching his food, for a long time. First Yanis, then Douglas Kent. Both wanted to protect Ruslan from something. But what? It probably had to do with how scared the guy had been that time.
He had not one intention, without a shadow of a doubt, to hurt the guy. He liked Ruslan. Hell, he hadn't wanted anyone like this in a long time. And, except for that time, Ruslan hadn't proven to be some delicate flower. The guy could hold his own, Johnny thought.
Although the same feeling of protection toward the guy was growing in him, too. Like it was something inside him, telling him that if anyone, anytime, was going to try to hurt the guy, he was sure to end that scumbag.
That kind of intensity wasn't for hookups. Not even for pretty men who were Johnny's weakness. Why the hell did he care?
The guy was good. Pretty. No, friggin' beautiful. That was how he was. But no, that wasn't it.
There was just something in how he stared at Johnny with those deep blue eyes, as he could see inside him. Like there was no place for Johnny left to hide. That was good because he had no intention to do that. And Ruslan's dad could be sure of what he had just said. He was going to prove himself. He knew Ruslan was all worthy of that.
***
Ruslan took a long look at himself in the mirror. Tentatively, he pressed his fingers against the ghost of a mark on his chest. Whenever he brought someone to bed, he was pretty much against getting bitten. It wasn't his cup of tea, and only put up with it if the guy was good. But Snake was a different matter. Not Snake, Johnny, he smiled at the memory of how the man had insisted that Ruslan should call him by his given name, not his ring moniker.
It wasn't only because the guy was good in bed. No, it was something else, something that went deeper, definitely deeper than that fading mark on his chest. He shook his head and laughed softly at himself. What was he now? Some smitten heroine from a romance novel?
The truth was he felt there was a connection between them. Like they knew each other, much better and for much longer than the few weeks that had passed since they had first laid eyes on one another. And that was ...
Not so easy to explain. Yes, they fit in bed. But that was just part of whatever was going on between them. In the man's arms, he felt protected. He felt like he deserved that protection, no questions asked. Not that Yanis or his papa didn't care for him, for real. But Johnny didn't have any reason to hold him like that, and look at him like that, and mark him like that. He was, after all, a stranger.
Unless the guy probably felt the same thing, somehow. Well, he wasn't going to ask. He only risked looking like a fool. They were fantastic fuck buddies, that was what they were. And probably all that fantastic sex between them was making his brain imagine things.
Ah, damn, he bit his bottom lip and pulled at his cock. The memories from the previous weekend spent together came unbound. He only had to close his eyes and see before his shut eyelids Johnny's deep, dark, intense eyes that were telling him that he mattered. More than just a bed partner. More than just a means to pass the time.
Alone, all by himself, he could fool himself with that. He grabbed at his cock and squeezed hard. The familiar jolt of pleasure made his breath hitch. Damn, it seemed so long until Saturday.
And there was this other thing. Usually, after a sex tryst, he wasn't so keen to do it again. Actually, his body wasn't. His fucked up mind wished for another human contact, despite his body not being able to take it.
But he had no idea whether Johnny knew how to fuck without wrecking him for days, or his body was growing accustomed to the man. The truth was his body was craving the guy, just as his twisted mind.
He used his other hand to push at his behind. There was no discomfort, not the usual pain that came after, more often than not. His body was opening up, eager for the touch. He began fingering himself fast to the same rhythm he was stroking his cock.
"Fuck," he let out, as he opened his eyes to see ropes of cum hitting the full-size mirror.
His knees were getting weak, and he let himself down. He was getting a bit crazy about Johnny `Snake' Bryne. And that was a bit dangerous. He craved men and their cocks as a general rule. But one guy in particular? That was not how he handled things.
If he didn't want to lose his head, he needed to put an order in things. Johnny was a diversion, a magnificent one, trapped in a fantastic body that Ruslan was sure he adored by now. He wanted so much to get to know the man, to trace every nook and cranny of his body, to taste him, to feel him inside out.
And all had happened so fast that it scared him. So he was a slut. That was nothing new, and he also knew it was wrong. Craving the man's cock in his ass was natural for someone like him that used to be a toy up for sale. No one could change that about him. He had been weak, and he had caved in when threatened.
His papa had tried to tell him not to blame himself for that. That he had been young, and without a choice. But others were young, too, and they didn't get to become nymphomaniacs with a penchant for self-loathing. Yanis had been in the same situation, and he hadn't ended up selling ass. It was true he had been forced into other bad stuff, but at least he hadn't put his ass up to be fucked.
His adoptive father had suggested therapy on more than one occasion. But Ruslan was glad the old man hadn't forced him. He had nothing to say to a therapist. He didn't believe in such things.
And he was afraid that the man or woman was going to try to take something from him, something that was only his. It didn't matter that it was an unhealthy craving for cock. It was his, and only his, and that was all that mattered.
It took him a few seconds to realize his phone was ringing. He pushed himself up and hurried to see who was calling.
"Hey, papa," he said with a smile. "Where are you? Do you care about dining out?"
After eight years spent in the old man's care, he was still giddy with excitement whenever his papa was taking him someplace nice. There were so few people in the world who he truly was connected to. Yanis, then his papa. And now, Johnny.
Maybe he missed his real parents. All orphans of the world must be the same, he thought. Although Yanis never talked about it. The guy either kept it to himself, or he didn't care. But Ruslan didn't think so. Yanis cared just as much; only that he had chosen, a long time ago, not to ever talk about it.
So he was happy for being treated like a favored child. Douglas Kent loved spoiling him, and that was why he was free to run around with guys like Johnny and Yanis. There was nothing his father ever denied to him.
***
"I can't believe it," he pouted.
Somehow his favored dessert didn't seem as tasty. And here it was. Something that Douglas Kent didn't intend to let him do.
"I have no intention to hide this from you, Russy," the old man said. "I am a tad worried. You're spending so much time with this guy."
"So?" he stubbornly kept looking down. "I like him."
"I want better for you. You deserve better," the old man continued.
"That's not true," Ruslan murmured.
"Ruslan," the old man warned. "I understand, to some degree, why you have refused help. But allow me to worry for you. Johnny Bryne is not a good choice."
"And how can you tell that? Because you went to scare him away, and he didn't care? At least, you told me that you went to do that," Ruslan looked up, glaring at his papa now.
The old man's lips twitched in amusement.
"He is determined. I will give him that. But I don't want you hurt. You get too invested in him, and it will end up badly. Men like him are not likely to stick around. They're searching for something that only they know what it is. Trust me, as I have lived a little."
"I want to take my chance," Ruslan said, disliking how much he sounded like begging. "And where did you get that idea that something is going on between us? Except fucking?"
"Ah, Russy," the old man sighed. "Are you asking me how I can tell? It's simple. By the way your eyes light up when you look at him. By the way he stared at me like I was his opponent in the ring when I went to talk to him about you. You are both young, and while at your age, you must be well beyond first loves, I fear, yes, that something is going on between you two, that you don't even realize."
Ruslan pursed his lips. He was trying hard to hide his excitement over what his papa was telling him about Johnny. Could it be that they both felt the same? What were the odds?
"I want to introduce you to someone this week. He comes from far away, and I want you to show him around. He is the son of a very influential business partner of mine, and he would very much like to make your acquaintance."
"Okay," Ruslan murmured. "I can play chaperone. Wait, is this guy one of the strapping young men who happen to be gay, that you were talking about?"
"Indeed," the old man confirmed. "He is very discreet, as is his family, as you might well imagine, but here, we are far away from any gossipy newspapers and the like. So he might appreciate being able to spread his wings for a bit. I'm counting on you to be an accommodating host."
"I suppose I can do that. But otherwise, I won't promise anything else," Ruslan said with conviction.
"And I wouldn't have it any other way. Although I have a feeling you two are going to hit it well. Call it a parent's intuition."
"I'm not going to cheat on Johnny," Ruslan glared a little.
"Cheat? I thought you guys weren't attached," the old man joked. "So you keep telling me."
"All right, I will babysit this guy," Ruslan said with a sigh, avoiding to give a direct answer to the unspoken question. "But that doesn't change anything between Johnny and me."
"Fine by me," the old man laughed. "Young hearts are fickle. I am counting on that. Just make sure that Johnny doesn't become a complication you don't want. Of course, if that happens, I hope you will tell me so that I can take care of things."
"Why are you so bent against me being with Johnny?" Ruslan questioned.
"Besides the obvious?" the old man quirked an eyebrow. "He is not the right man for you."
"Because he doesn't have any money? I wouldn't have any if you didn't take me in. So we're practically the same."
"He is trouble."
"Seriously, papa, it's like sometimes you and Yanis think the same," he said without thinking. "I don't need that much protection. I know men. If it's anything I know in this world," he added.
"Yanis," the old man looked at him with reproach. "I know he's your friend, but, just like Johnny, he's not good for you."
"You don't like the guy I'm with, you don't like my best friend ... What's next? Are you going to ground me?" Ruslan pouted.
"If I only could," the old man shook his head with mirth. "I care about you. But Yanis is in with some rough crowd."
"He's not going to hurt me if that's what you think," Ruslan said.
"People can hurt you without any intention to do that," the old man says wistfully. "Sometimes, they are not even the ones who do the hurting. It is just something that comes with the territory, I guess."
Ruslan studied the old man's face in silence for a while. There was pain there. He could tell. But he knew that if he was going to ask, he was not going to receive an answer.
"Who hurt you? Who was it, papa? And what do you mean by `that comes with the territory'?"
"Ah, that means that it comes with caring for someone," the old man replied, and his eyes seemed to look somewhere far away.
"Who was this someone? Was it your son? Did you ever have one? What happened to him?" Ruslan insisted.
"No, I do not have a son, nor did I have," the old man's eyes focused again. "You're the only one, Russy."
Ruslan let his eyes down again. Somehow, like always, the old man wasn't telling him everything. Or anything at all.
***
Nigel Davenport. The guy's name was a mouthful, Ruslan thought dryly, but he offered his hand and his best smile. It might have been that his papa was insisting so much with this guy, that he took an instant dislike at him.
The man was in his late 20s and had a strong jawline, and straight white teeth that he liked showing in what Ruslan considered an insincere smile. He had the healthy complexion of someone raised up north, and the November chill was coloring the height of his cheeks. From his height, he towered over Ruslan, and the hand that took his to shake it was square and rough.
Maybe the guy had grown up on some farm, Ruslan continued his evaluation. Maybe something of his slight distaste in the man was showing on his face because the guy's nostrils flared.
"You're much more beautiful than people say," Nigel said bluntly, and his smile stretched even more.
Ah, those flaring nostrils were a sign of something else. Ruslan smiled politely.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Nigel," he said, trying hard not to sound like a flirt.
Because of his papa, now he had to police every word that was coming out of his mouth.
"I see you travel light," he pointed at the man's carry-all.
"I am not exactly a fashionable man," Nigel shrugged. "A few changes of clothes are enough for me."
"So you're not staying long?" Ruslan spoke as he looked over to the driver and made a gesture for him to get Nigel's luggage.
"I wasn't planning," Nigel replied, with the same large, a bit dumb, but somewhat cute for a guy his size, smile. "But I might change my mind. Or, better said, you might."
Ruslan wanted to roll his eyes, but he had promised the old man that he wasn't going to be rude.
"There are not many places to see here, except for casinos, of course. Papa tells me you are interested in some partnership. I can assure you that we offer the best entertainment in the valley. And that I won't show you the competition."
The man laughed, and Ruslan was starting to wonder what the hell the old man must have been thinking when telling him he was going to hit it off with this dude. The guy wasn't laughing. He was neighing like a horse. Could it be that he was also hung like one? Was that why his papa thought he was going to like Nigel? At least, internally, he rolled his eyes.
They climbed in the back of the limousine since his papa had told him to receive the guest properly.
"May I offer you something?" he gestured toward the mini bar.
He felt like he was in the mood for one if he was to survive this encounter. But his guest shook his head, and it wouldn't have been polite to drink on his own.
"Do you not drink as a general rule?" he asked.
"How could you tell?" the guy grinned at him and stretched one arm to rest it behind Ruslan.
This guy thought he was at the movies and had to find a way to grab his date by the shoulders.
"Just a lucky guess," Ruslan said brightly.
"Alcohol fogs your mind and steals years of your life," Nigel nodded with self-importance. "I never drink."
"That's very intelligent of you," Ruslan said politely.
The guy's hand moved on his shoulder. Pretending he needed to lean forward to push away some lint from the hem of his pants, Ruslan shook off the touch discreetly. He eased back into the seat, but the man's hand returned on his shoulder. He turned to face the guy, to gauge what all that meant. By the content grin the guy had plastered all over his face, he was satisfied with his game plan. Maybe he even thought it was working.
"So, what are your plans?" he asked, looking the guy squarely in the eyes.
"Hmm, probably to do this," the man didn't hesitate and leaned in to kiss him.
Ruslan barely managed to avoid a direct kiss on the lips, and the man just caught his cheek.
"Nigel," he said, trying to sound stern enough. "That's not very nice of you."
Eventually, the man got the hint, and his hand dropped from Ruslan's shoulder.
"Sorry," Nigel said, and giggled like a school kid caught doing something naughty. "It's just that everyone talked about how pretty you were, and I just thought they were exaggerating. But now that I see you in person, I can only be a little upset over not coming to make your acquaintance a little sooner."
All right, the guy had his charm, Ruslan had to admit. He was maybe clumsy and impatient, but he wasn't a bad guy.
Which didn't work in the guy's favor, Ruslan thought. He had a thing, a strong thing, for a bad boy, with eyes dark like sin, and with lips so rough that were making him go crazy, and even rougher hands that could pull him apart, but didn't. No, Johnny's hands were gentle with all the callouses and hardened skin, and small cuts and fading bruises. He barely stopped a shiver.
"Are you all right?" Nigel asked him, taking him again by the shoulder and pulling him close. "You seem a little cold."
"I am all right," he answered brightly and straightened himself up in his place, to minimize the contact between them.
He needed to focus for a bit, and entertain the guest. For sure, the type of entertainment he had in mind was different than the one Nigel was most probably thinking about if he were to take after the guy's broad grin.
***
Johnny had been training hard for days now. Yet, there was still a while until Saturday. Never before had he had the feeling that days were crawling like snails. And now, he was thinking about nothing else but for Saturday to come already so that he could score another win, and then spend the rest of his time until Monday fucking Ruslan into the mattress.
He sent the speed bag almost off its hinges. The time passed just the same, no matter how fast he was.
So the old man was trying to make him understand that Ruslan was not for someone like him. And maybe it was the truth. But he wasn't going to give up. If anything, he could feel his blood boil more when thinking of the pretty man.
Fucking beautiful eyes. Bedroom eyes, some people might say. Yeah, that was totally how Ruslan's eyes were. They were inviting him to jump in the bed with the guy and fuck until exhaustion.
He still needed to keep his head sharp. Without beating his opponent, there was no Ruslan and no fucking for him.
But that didn't mean that it was easy to take his mind off the guy.
He headed back home after training. As much as he could call that home. The room at the old gym felt dingy and crappy. Nothing like the luxury surrounding Ruslan. Some might have said that the guy was some golden ticket for someone like Johnny. But all that money didn't matter. If Ruslan was to appear right there, in that crappy room, he could light it up and make it feel like a frigging palace.
Johnny took out his phone. He had promised himself to be good and keep a straight head. He had told Ruslan they might just fuck in the middle of the week if the guy wanted. But now, he had a sudden fear that he was going to jinx it if he changed their routine. Also, he wanted to know that it was earned, what was happening between them.
Fighters like him were all about routine. You honed each punch, each kick, each feint, each move to perfection. By repeating and repeating the same routine until it became second nature.
But that didn't mean he couldn't call.
"Hey," he said.
He hoped his smile was not easy to guess through the phone because he was grinning so hard right now that his cheeks were hurting.
"Hey," Ruslan replied, and he seemed a bit surprised.
"How's it hanging?" he asked.
"Like usual," came the somewhat curt reply.
Hmm, something was off. He could tell.
"What's up?" he asked, the grin now quickly wiping off his face.
The guy's old man was up. Damn! Had he read Ruslan wrong? Was he the only one who thought something was going on between them?
"I'd love to chat, but now is not a good time," Ruslan replied.
Johnny ground his teeth. There was apparently a masculine voice he heard somewhere in the background. Maybe it was even Ruslan's dad, but Johnny wasn't going to fool himself.
Ruslan was somewhere, with some dude. And he couldn't talk to Johnny. Just what kind of stupid was he now?
"Okay," he said gruffly.
He wasn't going to ask if they were going to see each other on Saturday. Johnny Bryne wasn't some mangy dog waiting for a bone.
"Was it something urgent?" Ruslan asked, and now he seemed a bit concerned.
"No."
He just wanted to hear the guy's voice. Maybe fool around over the phone. But now he was just getting the cold shower he needed to get his head back in the game.
"Well, then, goodbye," Ruslan said, after two seconds of silence.
"Bye," he said quickly.
He almost wanted to throw the phone and have the satisfaction to see it smashing against the wall. But he knew better than that.
What the fuck? Was he jealous now? Ruslan had told him they were exclusive, but he was some rich guy who had never had to worry about anything in his life. So maybe a promise to some guy who wasn't living in the lap of luxury like he was meant squat.
On Saturday, Johnny was going into that ring, and he was going to wreck the unlucky fucker who was going to face him. And then he was going to see if Ruslan was a man of honor or it was enough for his papa to pull the leash and he was obedient like a stupid well-bred mutt.
Wiping his face with both hands, he suddenly felt like laughing at himself. Surviving this day. Surviving this week. It was all that mattered.
But he was going to find out if Ruslan was trying to play him like a shmuck. He was not that kind of fool.
***
"Who was it? You seemed very serious right there," Nigel spoke while picking a bruschetta from the plate and stuffing his mouth with it.
"Ah, a business contact," Ruslan lied right away.
Why on earth had he behaved like that? Like he had something to hide. Somehow, he felt guilty of spending time with this guy, without Johnny's knowing. It was ridiculous. He wasn't cheating on anyone. But he could tell Johnny was pissed now.
Which, again, made little sense. He had been happy to hear Johnny's voice. Should have he been alone, he would have loved to talk to the guy, most preferably for hours.
Maybe it was because Nigel was openly flirting with him. Ruslan wasn't offering the desired response, but that didn't seem to put off the guy at all. He was trying to tell himself he was doing nothing but being polite to his guest, but there he was, having fun in a fancy restaurant with this guy, while Johnny wasn't present.
He wanted to slap himself silly. What was with all these fucked up thoughts, all of a sudden? They weren't that serious about one another, now were they? There was no point to feel guilty. He was just absurd about the whole thing, for some obscure reason.
"How do you find the food?" he asked his guest.
Nigel nodded hurriedly. The man had quite the appetite, Ruslan thought, while he stared at his plate. He wasn't that much in the mood to eat.
***
It was only late at night that he could call Johnny. It had taken him hours of entertaining the guest without offering anything that wasn't on the menu, and he had finally managed to put Nigel to sleep, in his own hotel room. The old man was going to be pleased. Nigel had seemed happy with being shown around. Probably the business his papa wanted to strike with the guy's family was going to work out.
He took out his coat and threw it on the back of a chair. Pulling his phone out, he went to look out the window, at the evening setting in. Days were shorter, colder now, but that only meant staying indoors felt cozier than ever.
"Hey," he said softly, after waiting for Johnny to pick up for what felt like minutes.
Something like a grunt was the only response.
"Sorry about earlier. I was caught in a business meeting, and I couldn't talk."
It was, after all, the truth, despite what a little righteous voice was trying to tell him. In a way, he felt entitled to revolt against himself. No matter how much innuendo – not so veiled, to be honest – Nigel had thrown his way, he had politely dodged any invitation to get busy with the guy.
Something like a mumble followed now from the other end.
"Am I calling at a bad time?" Ruslan frowned.
"No. I don't have bad times," Johnny finally spoke.
"You don't have bad times," Ruslan tried to make sense of Johnny's words, by repeating them. "I would have loved to spend some time talking to you. It wasn't possible."
"Sure. No problem. You don't have to say sorry," Johnny replied.
"Okay," Ruslan exhaled. "Now, tell me, have you perhaps changed your mind? You know, about our deal?"
He didn't want to be led by the nose. That would have been ludicrous. Somehow now he felt pissed at Johnny. If the guy didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore, better say it now.
"No. So how was the business meeting?" Johnny seemed keen to change the subject, but his voice remained cold.
"Why are you so ... I don't know," Ruslan huffed.
Could it be that Johnny was with someone? So he kept being formal like that, for the sake of the other person. That could be possible. A man like that, as he had noticed from the first time he had laid his eyes on him, must have had plenty of people wanting to bed him.
"So? You mean like you were earlier?" Johnny spat.
Oh, so the guy was pissed. Ruslan had guessed right the first time.
"Are you alone?" Ruslan asked without thinking.
"Yeah, I'm alone," Johnny replied. "Unlike you earlier."
"Wait, are you jealous?" Ruslan expressed his astonishment at that idea.
"Nah, why would I be? We have a deal, that's all," Johnny said.
"You better not forget about it. It goes both ways, you know?" Ruslan said, somewhat miffed now, as well.
"Wait, are you thinking I'm fucking someone behind your back?" Johnny's voice now sounded incredulous.
Ruslan opened his mouth to say something and then closed it tight.
"It looks like you're the jealous one," Johnny's voice was warming up now.
"I'm not jealous," Ruslan protested. "What are you talking about?"
"You are," Johnny spoke with satisfaction now. "So, do you miss me or something?"
The man was now drawling the words with self-assurance. That was getting a bit on Ruslan's nerves. But somehow, the fact that he could hear how relieved the guy was now was making him smile a little, too.
"Yeah, I do miss you," he said, but his voice still showed his irritation.
"Good," Johnny chuckled.
"Good? Is that everything you have to say?" Ruslan pursed his lips.
This guy was really something.
"Yeah, it's good, pretty, because I miss you, too," Johnny's voice dropped to a whisper.
Ruslan could pretend all he wanted that his cheeks weren't getting warm that very moment. He was, after all, alone, and no one could see him, getting all mushy and vulnerable over some guy. Not just some guy. A guy who seemed to be special to him.
"Cat got your tongue?" Johnny teased since Ruslan wasn't saying anything.
Or breathing too much.
"No," he replied curtly. "Ah, damn, you really know how to piss off a guy," Ruslan mumbled, to hide his excitement and the smidge of embarrassment he was feeling that moment.
"I know many things," Johnny laughed. "Now tell me, how much do you miss me?"
"Only a little," Ruslan teased, too.
"Are you sure? Because I miss you a lot. I can barely wait to see you again," Johnny said gently.
Ruslan grabbed the phone tightly. He felt like a damn school kid talking for the first time with his crush. What the hell was wrong with him? He had already had the man.
But, apparently, it hadn't been enough.
"I wish Saturday were here already," he whispered.
"Yeah, me, too," Johnny whispered, too.
The conversation felt so intimate between the two of them, despite few words being spoken. For a while, they only listened to each other's breathing.
"I guess I should let you train," Ruslan said.
"I guess I should, yeah. Although now it's time I go to sleep," Johnny replied.
"I was talking about the following days, not right now," Ruslan spoke. "The days until Saturday."
"Only Friday left, actually," Johnny chuckled.
"And the whole Saturday until evening," Ruslan added.
"Yeah, a whole bunch of hours," Johnny said, with what Ruslan could only interpret as regret.
"Yeah," he answered because somehow he could not feel words coming easily to him now.
The silence of the evening was stretching all around him. For the first time in a very long time, he could tell he was all alone in that big house. The old man was right. Only that he wasn't usually thinking about it. Only now, talking to Johnny over a phone, and wishing the man was with him that very moment, he could feel how lonely his big, beautiful house was.
"Well, as they say, time flies," he shook away the sudden melancholia. "I can barely wait to see you win again."
"Ah, so you're sure that I'll win," Johnny joked, and Ruslan smiled.
"Don't you dare not to come home with me a winner," he warned the other, but he was laughing now.
"With such encouragement ..."
"It's actually a threat," Ruslan said lightly.
"Ah, so if I'm not a winner ..."
"Told you. Don't even think about it," Ruslan feigned a more serious tone now.
"All right, pretty," Johnny said slowly. "See you on Saturday, then?"
"Definitely," Ruslan replied.
And he continued to smile long after their conversation was over. At least, for most of his weekends, he wasn't going to be all alone in that big house.
TBC
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