7. Tommaso #2
I turn to the crowd, and my eyes find Tiger’s in the back of the room. He’s looking at us with an incredibly annoyed expression pulling at his brows and a scowl on his mouth.
“We’re done here!” I yell to the crowd, and to him.
Tiger parts the crowd with just his presence and comes up the side of the chain link. “You fight until one of you is dead,” he snarls at us. “What part of that don’t you fuckers understand?”
I turn to face him more directly, squaring my shoulders and ignoring the blood drying on my lips and chin.
“Either you let us go, or we stay in here all-night costing you precious money,” I tell him.
He looks at the both of us with an uncertain look, like he isn’t sure he believes us or not. Then walks around the arena and opens the door.
The guards step out of the way, and the crowd starts to boo.
“Get the fuck out of here, I don’t want to see either of you back here again, you got it?!” Tiger yells at us as we make our way out of the arena, shoving at my back and causing me to trip forwards a couple feet.
“Get your hands off him,” Aleksandr tells Tiger, his accent switching back to American.
“I’ll do whatever I want, this is my club,” Tiger sneers at him and looks him directly in the face.
Aleksandr doesn’t back down. “You had better hope I don’t see you on the street,” he says, his Russian accent peaking through.
Tiger huffs and brushes him off.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I tell Aleksandr as I grab him by the bicep.
He doesn’t pull away from me like I expect. Instead, he lets me lead him through the crowd that spits and curses at us the entire way, to the stairs and up.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when we get outside, the guard at the door not questioning us at all, and Aleksandr finally pulls away from my hold.
“What the fuck were you thinking in there?” he asks me once we’re outside in the alleyway all alone.
“You’re the one who decided to get in on my fight,” I remind him. “I was never supposed to fight you. What was that about?”
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he continues. “If I hadn’t…”
I eye him from head to toe. “You did it to protect me? No fucking way…” I laugh softly. My lip and face are aching, but I don’t care.
Aleksandr takes a deep breath and steps closer to me. “So, what if I did?” he asks. “We’re supposed to be working together. I can’t just…let you die.”
“I think I saw more than that in there,” I tell him, my own body still hot and goosebumps on the backs of my arms and neck.
Aleksandr looks away from me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re really gonna tell me your cock isn’t hard from beating the shit of me in there?” I ask him, removing the distance between us. “You didn’t get some kind of twisted thrill from it too? Huh? What do you need to tell yourself that to get by?”
Aleksandr’s hand is suddenly on my throat, and my dick twitches.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says coldly, and his mouth is so close to mine that I can feel his breath against my lips.
“You know it’s true,” I mumble. I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s stupid. It’s so incredibly stupid. I shouldn’t be trying to rile him up. I shouldn’t want to feel his mouth against mine, or his hands on my body.
I don’t need this kind of thing to complicated my life…and yet. Here I am.
Looking into his eyes and practically begging him to move in closer.
“You want me,” I tell him with a smirk. “Is that so hard to believe?”
I watch Aleksandr’s throat bob as he swallows. “You’re such a fucking brat.”
Suddenly he pulls me further away from the door and across the alleyway to the side of a dumpster. I step backwards as he shoves me and my back hits the brick wall of the building beside the fight club.
“What are you—?” I don’t get my words out before his lips claim mine. It’s not slow or hesitant. No. Aleksandr kisses me hard and sloppy. His tongue immediately seeks to enter my mouth and I part my lips against his hot wet ones and let him in before I’ve even processed what’s happening.
My eyes flutter closed and I grab at his sides trying to find something, anything, to keep me steady.
I kiss him back messy and hot, my tongue fights against his for dominance, but his wins. Swirling and pushing against mine like he doesn’t just have it for this moment, but like he owns it.
My cracked lip bleeds into his mouth, stinging and aching, but I don’t care and he doesn’t seem to mind.
He’s not careful with me in this moment, no, he’s rough and ready. I push my hips against his and grind myself against the front of his body, feeling our cocks rub together through the fabric.
“Ahhh, fuck,” I moan through the kiss, my words muffled and damp.
Every little sound is loud in my ears. The panting of breath, the slick suction of our kiss, and the textured brick scraping against my jeans and shirt.
I shouldn’t be doing this, not at all… I should be focusing on the Bianchi’s, I should be training Nikolas and Beau… I should be doing literally anything but this. Especially out here in public.
Sure, there’s a rusty dumpster hiding us, but anyone could find us at any time.
My cock throbs and I swear I feel precum dripping out of me already. I like the fact that we could be found at any moment, I realize.
I enjoy the way Aleksandr gropes my chest and sides with a rough hand and humps back against me and the hard wall. I want someone to see. I want someone to find us, and see just how hot we are for each other in the moment.
Except…then it would have to end, so, I’m certainly not complaining that no one seems to have noticed us, yet.
I tell myself that this is one time only. To get it out of my system of course. That’s all.
My hands slide up into Aleksandr’s shirt, gripping and rubbing at his sides, feeling the lithe muscles underneath his skin and the scars that mirror my own. I find myself wondering what exactly caused his, who hurt him…but I don’t ask.
I’m far too focused on his hand that is undoing my jeans and slipping in over my hard, aching length.