Chapter 16 #2
Roman yells when I slam my forearm into his face, and barely miss his balls—shame as it would be to damage those—with my knee. I roll us over, punching him again before we scramble away from each other and face off again.
“You,” he snarls, glaring death as he curls his big, tattooed hands to fists. “You’re fucking dead.”
I have no idea what the fuck is going on. But it feels like a bit much as a response to me calling him a “good little cocksucker”.
I mean, it was a goddamn compliment.
I’ve checked out the underground fights he likes to attend a couple of times and watched Roman in action. He’s a good boxer. But that's the point: he’s a boxer, not a down-and-dirty street fighter.
There’s a difference.
In a ring match with a referee, Roman’s a fucking terror. He’s big, fearless, knows how to move and handle his body, and hits like a goddamn freight train.
Me, I'm an “okay” boxer, but I’m a fucking beast of a fighter.
In street fights, there’s no ring, no ref, and no one plays by any rules.
The only unfair fight is the one you fucking lose.
That was beaten into me in my foster years when the other kids would come to kick my ass—for being the new kid, dancing, or being queer.
So, if we were in a ring right now, I’d be screwed. But surprise alley fight?
It’s fuckin’ on, baby.
Roman charges me. I dodge left, evading his monster of a punch before I slam my elbow down on the back of his shoulder as he passes.
He grunts, then chokes out an even louder cry of pain when I ram my knee up into his kidney area.
I slam my elbow into the middle of his back, making him snarl again before I shove past him and dance away.
He whirls, pure rage on his face. He glances down at his side and winces, then looks up at me incredulously. I swear—I fucking swear—he’s about to complain that I’m not playing by the rules.
But instead, he charges me again.
This time, I do catch a glancing blow to the jaw. It makes me see stars and also pisses me the fuck off. So I have zero problem jamming my fist into his face, kicking him hard in the shin, and then spinning us both, pinning his arm behind his back and slamming him into the brick wall beside us.
“Fucking enough!” I roar, gritting my teeth and keeping him immobile as Roman twists in my grip.
“You fucking—!”
“ROMAN!!!” I yell, wrenching his arm even harder in his shoulder socket and making him wince. “Fucking stop!” I hiss as he tries to jam his foot onto mine. ”The fuck is your goddamn problem!!”
“You!” he roars back.
He actually does get my foot this time, just enough for me to momentarily lose my focus and my grip. But before he can get a punch in, I grab his wrists and slam him back against the wall.
“STOP!” I yell in his face. “The fuck is this about!?”
“My father, you fuck!” he spits. “He could have died!”
I blink, staring at him. “Your…” My brow furrows. “Fuck, Roman, what happened to your—”
“Your brother’s people fucking tried to blow up him and Nikolai Antonov!”
My mind goes numb for a second. Then I frown and shake my head. “What? No, he didn’t—”
“Like fuck he didn’t!” Roman hurls back, straining in my grip. “My dad and Bane’s were at a safe house. No one knows its location. And yet, your brother’s fucking people were able to find them and…”
Shit. Suddenly, I think I know why Evie’s been locked in her room all day.
“Jesus, Roman,” I growl. “I’m so sorry. How’s your—”
I barely miss his fist, grunting before I grab his arms again and slam them back to the wall, my weight against his.
“STOP IT!” I roar.
“No fucking way!” he hurls back. “No one knew about that safe house,” he hisses. “No one. But I had the address in my phone.”
I stare at him. “And you’re blaming me because…?”
“Because you had my phone last night,” he hisses. “When you…when…”
When I took his phone and snapped some spicy pics of me slurping his dick.
I blink, utterly bemused as I stare at him. “When I was—”
“When you took those fucking perverted pictures,” he mumbles.
“Hold on,” I growl, still pressing my body to his. “You think I’m James fucking Bond? That I…what, seduced you—which, spoiler alert, doesn’t take much—”
He surges against me, trying to escape my grip. But my frame pins him to the wall even tighter.
Our pulses jump together.
“You—”
“You seriously think that somehow, in the middle of taking hot pics, and, you know, sucking your dick,” I snap, “I magically knew you had an address to a safe house I don’t even know about on your phone, and found it somehow?”
“He could have died!” Roman snarls, twisting in my grip.
“And I’m sorry!” I roar back. “But I didn’t have shit to do with any of it!!”
Roman grunts, half shoving me back before I slam against him, keeping him against the wall, my chest to his.
“Is that who made you this way?” I growl.
Roman scowls at me. “What?”
“I’m guessing it’s your dad’s old school Russian homophobia that has you so fucking twisted up and hating who you are?” I snap.
I press closer against him, and…oh shit…
Pretty sure he’s fucking hard.
Roman’s face darkens. “I am not—”
“You swallowed my dick like a good boy last night,” I hiss, getting right in his face. “Begging for more, moaning around my cock while my cum filled your mouth. And don’t try to pretend you weren’t leaking precum into your pants while you did it, too.”
“Get the fuck away from—”
He chokes, his eyes bulging when I let go of one of his wrists and jam my hand between us. I was right.
He’s rock hard, his cock straining against his pants. And when I slide my hand over it, the fucking thing pulses and jumps, and gets even fucking harder.
Roman stares at me, his mouth hanging open as I start to rapidly jerk his dick through his pants.
“What’s got you so hard, wreckage…” I growl, dropping my lips to his neck. Roman stills, his breath catching in his throat. His free hand goes to my chest, but he doesn’t shove me back.
He just fucking grips my shirt in his fist.
“I—I’m—”
“Was it the fight? The violence?” I rasp into his ear. “Is that what made you so achy for me? Because, fuck, baby, I know the feeling.”
I start to jerk him even harder, loving the way the fight goes completely out of him and he shakes against me as I pin him to the wall.
“Or is this the real reason you wanted to surprise me in a dark alley…” I murmur, my breath teasing over his neck as I pump his swollen erection. “Because you were just dying to get this big dick played with…”
My hand keeps moving, pumping him fast. His eyes roll back, his jaw going slack as his body starts to shake against me.
I could make him come in his pants right fucking now, and it’d be hot as fuck.
But I’m not going to.
Not after he fucking jumped me.
What I will do, however, is make a point.
“You wanna fucking come for me?” I snarl into his ear as I squeeze his dick and jerk it faster. “You wanna make a cummy mess in your pants for me?”
Roman whimpers desperately.
I give his throbbing hard cock one more squeeze and pump my arm for three more fast strokes. And then, just as his cock is swelling even harder, and twitching in my hand?
…I let go.
Of his dick. Of him. I step away, smiling smugly.
“I don’t give a fuck what label you give yourself, asshole,” I hiss. “Gay, bi, straight, whatever.”
Roman swallows heavily as I step back into his personal space, his face flushed.
“But labels aside,” I growl as I lower my mouth to his ear again, “you get real hard for dick, motherfucker.”
Roman’s throat bobs, and he stares at me with wild eyes as I step away.
“Fuck you,” he chokes.
“Not a goddamn chance,” I snarl. “And believe me, that’s not going to change until you can look yourself in the eye and admit who you are.”
We stand there in dark, glowering at each other as the city hums around us.
Roman’s eyes turn icy. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
“Gladly, motherfucker,” I growl before I turn and storm up the alley.
Fucking gladly, indeed.