Chapter 24 Crown of Smoke
TWENTY-FOUR
CROWN OF SMOKE
DECLAN
Isat on the bench with my hands on my knees, breathing steady and trying to get my head into the space where nothing existed except the opponent and the ring.
Mara was across the room checking the equipment and laying out the hand wraps with the methodical precision she brought to everything. She'd been humming some tune I didn't recognize, which meant she was in a good mood. Or at least pretending to be for my sake.
“You ready for this?” she asked without looking up.
“As ready as I'm going to be.”
“That's not exactly confidence-inspiring, Declan.” She grabbed the hand wraps and crossed to where I sat. “But I'll take it. You've trained hard. You're as prepared as anyone could be for this.”
I looked up at her. “He's fast, Mara. Faster than anyone I've fought in years.”
“Yeah, he is.” She knelt in front of me and started wrapping my left hand with the practiced efficiency. “He's also cocky. Leaves his right side open when he commits to the left hook. And he gasses out in the later rounds if you can push the pace early.”
“You've been studying him.”
“Of course I have. That's my job.” She glanced up at me with a slight smile. “Your job is to not get your face rearranged. Think you can handle that?”
“I'll do my best.”
“That's all I'm asking.” She worked the tape between my fingers and around my wrist, building the foundation that would protect my hands when I was throwing everything I had at another man's face. “You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you're going to surprise a lot of people tonight.
They're writing you off because you're older.
Because you took time away from competition.
Because they think you've lost the edge.” She finished the left hand and started on the right.
“But I've watched you train for weeks. And I've never seen you this focused.
This determined. Whatever's been happening in your life lately, it's made you sharper.”
The observation caught me off guard. “You think so?”
“I know so.” She secured the tape on my right hand and stood up. “You're fighting like you've got something to prove. Not to the crowd or the promoters or anyone else. To yourself. That's the best kind of fight to have.”
“Thanks, Mara.”
“Don't thank me yet. Thank me after you win.” She grabbed my shoulders and squeezed.
“Now listen to me. When you get in that ring, you forget everything else.
You forget the crowd. You forget the judges.
You forget whatever's waiting for you outside these walls. All that exists is you and him and the space between you. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good.” She pulled me into a quick hug that was over before I could fully process it. “You've got this, Declan. I believe in you. Now go out there and prove me right.”
The door opened before I could respond. Troy walked in carrying a bottle of water and the calm focus he wore before violence. He stopped when he saw Mara.
“Sorry. Should I come back?”
“No. I'm leaving.” Mara grabbed her jacket and moved toward the door. She paused when she reached Troy and smiled at him. “Keep him calm. He gets in his head too much before fights.”
“I'll do my best.”
“That's all anyone can ask.” She looked back at me one more time. “Ten minutes, Declan. Make them count.”
She left. The door closed behind her with a soft click that felt louder than it should have.
Troy crossed to where I sat and set the water bottle down beside me. “She's good at this.”
“She's been doing it for years.” I stood and tested my wrapped hands. The tape felt good and solid. “You didn't have to come back here.”
“I wanted to see you before the fight.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with the leather jacket he wore. “Wanted to make sure you knew I'm here.”
“I know.”
“And Declan?” His hand found my jaw and tilted my face up. “You're going to win this. You're going to walk out of that ring with the title and then we're going to celebrate properly.”
“You sound confident.”
“I am confident. I've seen you fight.” His thumb traced my cheekbone. “You're the best fighter I know. And tonight you're going to prove it to everyone else.”
I kissed him hard and fast, tasting the certainty in his words and the faith he had in me that I didn't quite have in myself yet.
When I pulled back, his eyes were dark and hungry in a way that made my cock stir despite the fact that I had a title fight in less than ten minutes.
But then Troy dropped to his knees in front of me, and every thought about the fight evaporated.
“What are you doing?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
“Giving you good luck.” His hands went to my shorts, fingers hooking in the waistband. “You got a problem with that?”
I should have said yes. Should have told him we didn't have time, that someone could walk in, that I needed to stay focused. But the words died in my throat when he pulled my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, letting my half-hard cock spring free.
“Fuck, Troy.” I braced one hand against the locker behind me. “We don't have time for this.”
“Then I'll make it quick.” He wrapped his hand around my cock, stroking me to full hardness with practiced efficiency. “Besides, you fight better when you're relaxed. And I can't think of a better way to relax you than this.”
His mouth closed around the head of my cock before I could respond, hot and wet and perfect. I groaned, my free hand going to his hair automatically, fingers threading through the dark strands.
He took me deeper, working his way down my length with single-minded focus.
His tongue pressed flat against the underside of my cock, creating friction that made my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
He didn't gag, didn't pull back, just took it and kept going until his nose was pressed against my pelvis and I could feel the back of his throat.
“God, your mouth.” I tightened my grip in his hair, not pulling, just holding on while he worked me over. “You're so fucking good at this.”
He pulled off with an obscene pop, spit connecting his lips to my cock in a way that made my balls draw up tight. “You taste good, Daddy. Like sweat and want and everything I've been craving.”
The word sent heat straight through me. I'd never been called that before, never thought I'd like it, but hearing it from Troy's mouth while he was on his knees in front of me did things to my brain I hadn't anticipated.
“Say that again.”
“What, Daddy?” He grinned up at me, all teeth and mischief, his hand still stroking my cock with lazy confidence. “You like it when I call you that? Like knowing you're the one who gets to fuck me? The one who owns this?”
“Fuck yes.” I pulled him back onto my cock, rougher this time, letting him feel the edge of control slipping. “Take it. Show me how much you want it.”
He moaned around my cock, the vibration traveling straight up my spine. His hands gripped my thighs for leverage as he started moving faster, taking me deep on every stroke, spit dripping down his chin and making everything slick and filthy.
I could feel my orgasm building already, heat pooling at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tight. But I didn't want to come in his mouth. Didn't want to waste this when I could have him properly.
“Troy, stop.” I pulled him off my cock, breathing hard. “I need to fuck you.”
“Yeah?” He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his own cock visibly hard in his jeans. “Right here? Anyone could walk in.”
“I don't give a fuck.” I grabbed his jacket and yanked him closer, kissing him hard enough to taste myself on his tongue. “Lock the door.”
He moved fast, crossing to the door and flipping the lock with a decisive click. When he turned back, his eyes were blown wide with want, his breathing just as ragged as mine.
“How do you want me?” His voice had dropped lower, rough with arousal.
“I want you to fuck me.” The admission came easier than I expected. “I want your cock inside me when I walk out to that ring. Want to feel you with every step. Want to remember this when I'm throwing punches.”
Troy's expression went dark with hunger. “You sure about that, Daddy? Because once I start, I'm not stopping until I fill you up.”
“That's the idea.” I turned and braced my hands against the locker, spreading my legs wider. “You got lube?”
“Always.” He pulled a small bottle from his jacket pocket, the same one we'd been using at home. “Been carrying it just in case.”
“Smart man.”
I heard the click of the cap, felt the cold slick of lube between my ass cheeks a second later. Troy's fingers worked me open with methodical efficiency, one finger first, then two, stretching me with the same focus he brought to everything else.
“Fuck, you're tight.” His free hand gripped my hip, holding me steady while he worked. “Even after this morning. Your body just wants to fight me.”
“Then make it stop fighting.” I pushed back against his fingers, taking them deeper. “Make me take it.”
He added a third finger, twisting and searching until he found my prostate and pressed hard. Pleasure shot through me, made my cock leak against the inside of my shorts, made my legs shake with the effort of staying upright.
“That's it, Daddy. Let me hear you.” His fingers moved faster, fucking into me with purpose, hitting that spot on every stroke. “Let me hear how much you want my cock.”
“Troy, please.” I didn't recognize my own voice, wrecked and desperate. “Stop teasing and fuck me already.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” He pulled his fingers out and I heard the sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric as he freed his cock. Then the blunt head pressed against my hole, hot and thick and exactly what I needed.
He pushed in slowly, giving me time to adjust, stretching me open inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me and I could feel him everywhere.