Takedown (17 page)

He has a weak side. I can work with this.

The bell went off and Luke moved in the same as last time, his body tense with anticipation. He circled, jabbed, and let Pascal land another few hits on his ribs.

Then, a minute in, he circled—circled the other way—tested his reflexes with a hook, a jab, a swift kick.

Pascal nailed him in the stomach and took him to the ground. Luke let him land four quick, light hits on his face before he flipped them over to the roars of the crowd. He held Pascal down and deliberately returning every fucking hit twice as hard.

That’s for Mitchell.

That’s for the Millers.

That’s for every fucking asshole standing between me and Mitchell.

And that’s for trying to break my rib, you asshole!

Pascal scrambled to his feet, still wonky and dazed. Pascal had been underestimating him. They circled twice more before Pascal went in. He was going weaker now, trying to wait for time to be called.

Nice try.

What a dick.

Pascal landed several more blows, grounded him once more, but Luke knew with absolute certainty he had this in the bag.

Luke waited for his chance, and when he saw it, he set it up.

Jab, jab, dodge, hook.

Three more blows to his ribs, but though Luke’s face went white from pain, he didn’t give in. He was halfway through his plan.

Then Luke feinted hard, bringing his fist back for one more punch.

Time to finish this.

T
he cage clanged shut
behind them. Rather than walk back up to his seat, Mitchell stayed down next to it and Hugh.

He swapped tense looks with Hugh, who reached out and silently punched his shoulder.

Ow
. Mitchell understood what it meant, though, and jerkily nodded.

Then the bell went off and they were moving.

Fuck, Mitchell couldn’t breathe. When he’d decided to come to this damn thing, he’d had no idea it was
this
brutal.

What he saw at the gym was elegant grace, power, but also respect.

Pascal didn’t have an ounce of it.

Every time Pascal got Luke to the ground, he did it the same three ways, and hit the same fucking spot with fist, elbow, knee, whatever he could get in there. The same spot on his ribcage the Miller kid had bruised yesterday.

It made Mitchell’s heart pound with terror to see the way Pascal moved into Luke, hitting spots nobody at the gym had gone for without hesitation. If it were legal to hit the throat, Mitchell didn’t doubt for a second he would have.

But this round was different. Although Luke moved similarly, it was more deliberate this time. He was baiting Pascal, and Pascal was falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

Don’t be an idiot,
Mitchell prayed. Christ, he’d give up their relationship in a second if it would give Luke a single ounce more focus—make him a tiny bit less likely to get a concussion… or even die.

Further up in the arena, even in the front rows, it was prettier. Down here, all he smelled was sweat and blood.

Christ, Luke still had blood running down his back that he didn’t seem aware of, and some dried around his nose. But Pascal’s nose was bloodier, and he was limping.

Neither of them were giving up until they were forced to, and even Mitchell could tell from the way Luke moved that he was about to force the issue.

Pascal kept trying to feint, drawing Luke out instead of going in for the kill like he had in the first two rounds.

Mitchell heard a hissed, “Dick,” under his breath from Hugh, but didn’t spare him a glance.

“Yeah.”

“He’s trying to—”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Mitchell managed.

Then Luke was moving in, circling this way and that, a string of rapid-fire actions Mitchell couldn’t even track.

Luke’s arm pulled back for the punch, every muscle in his body twisting to give it more force, until his leg flew up and around.

It hit Pascal’s head with a thud, his neck snapping around for a moment as his arms flew back. He wasn’t even flat on the mat before Luke was on his knees next to him, landing two punches before the referee separated them.

The crowd was deafening. Mitchell winced, covering one ear from the sudden roars of approval. Hugh joined in with a holler of his own, smacking his hands together so hard Mitchell jumped.

Pascal’s body was limp, Luke away from him and standing up. It was so fast Mitchell barely processed it. The cage flew open as Pascal’s trainer, a doctor, and one or two other guys surrounded him, checking his eyes and pulse.

Hugh clapped several more times, then punched Mitchell’s arm and shook him for a second, jumping up and down twice before he calmed himself.

Luke stayed next to Pascal, walking back and forth for a moment with his eyes fixed on him. Then he crouched, watching Pascal until his arm stirred. Luke bumped their fists together and rose to his feet, finally turning from Pascal to the crowd and surveying it as the referee officially announced the K.O.

Luke stood there for a second, taking in the applause and acknowledgment.

Bloody and bruised and half-broken, but on his feet.

He was perfect.

The cage was unlocked and Luke walked down to his corner, approaching Mitchell and Hugh with a new, sharp gleam in his eye.

Hugh moved in first to grab his hand and clap his back before the medic and camera descended on him, and Luke hugged him tightly.

Then Luke was yanking off his gloves, cupping Mitchell’s cheeks in his wrapped hands and hauling him in for a kiss.

Mitchell didn’t care about the tang of salt and iron; his chest just pounded with grateful joy that he got to kiss Luke once more. The mix of cheers and jeers didn’t faze Mitchell for a second.

This was going to go big—there was a video camera shoved practically in their faces—but Mitchell didn’t care. This felt right.

Mitchell broke away with laughter when he saw Luke flip the onlookers the middle finger. He just wanted to hold this battered, bruised man until they healed together.

Then Hugh grabbed Mitchell’s arm to steer him out of the arena, leading him back down to where he’d seen everyone come from earlier. Hugh grabbed Luke’s hand, too, and raised it for one more roar of applause as they walked down the concrete hallway.

T
he minutes
after Luke’s fights were always the most bizarre. It was a haze of doctors, stitches or glue, and self-assessment to see what he couldn’t touch for the next day or two.

This time, most of the damage was concentrated around his ribcage. It was all Luke could do to grit his teeth and groan when the doctor pushed the spot a little too hard. In the end, he got a diagnosis of bruised ribs, no breaks. Once Luke’s cuts were sponged off, they were glued up.

Hugh gingerly pulled his gloves and wraps off, checking his hands, then approved him to go. Luke rinsed his face, scrubbed the rest of himself gingerly, and changed into jeans and a clean t-shirt. He threw everything else into his gym bag while Hugh chatted with one of the nearby trainers.

Normally he would hang out here, talk with the other guys, take his congratulation fist-bumps, back-slaps, ass-pats, and hugs, and socialize. They’d wind up in a bar somewhere, or talking to press if the promotion was big enough.

But this wasn’t a normal fight.

Luke lingered by the door, trying to catch Hugh’s eyes. Hugh caught the gaze and smiled, interrupting his conversation to head over to Luke. “You wanna go be with him?”

“Yeah,” Luke breathed out. More than anything in the world,
yes
.

Hugh popped Luke’s jaw in a gentle punch while Luke feigned recoiling. His trainer laughed. “Get out of here then. Just go.”

Luke half-hugged him and slapped his back, then strode out of the locker room to the end of the hallway.

As soon as he emerged, his bag on his shoulder, he glanced around. A few people were gathered around smoking or talking and watching, including a couple of fighters. Mitchell was waiting right there, his cheeks flushed.

“Hey,” Mitchell greeted. “My car’s off in the lot. You wanna take it?”

“Sure.” Before Luke could move, though, there was a young guy trying to get ahead to them, past the barrier. One of the security guys moved up, but Luke brushed them off to greet the guy. Mitchell looked nervous, but Luke could handle it.

“Hey. What’s up?”

The guy nodded jerkily. “Hey. Um, I really appreciated that fight and everything. Before and after, too. You had class, and that’s… hard to find.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. The guy was awkward in plaid and biting back his s’s, and Luke’s gaydar wouldn’t shut up. “Thanks,” Luke nodded simply, not wanting to put the guy on the spot. He put his hand on Mitchell’s back for a moment to steer him out around the barrier, walking off through the parking lot and letting Mitchell lead the way. “You fight?”

“Only a little,” the guy laughed sheepishly. “I want to. I live in Nebraska too. I came out for the night. N-Not came
out
came out, but…”

Luke swapped looks with Mitchell.

“You got a job?” Mitchell asked simply.

Evan shook his head with a confused frown.

“We have one going, and an apartment over the gym.”

The guy stared at them both. “I… wait, you’re offering it to me?”

“Pending a felony check,” Mitchell winked. “What’s your name?”

“Evan Montgomery.”

“Nice to meet you, Evan. I’m Mitchell. I run The Good Fight, the gym where Luke trains.”

“Oh, that’s how you two…” Evan trailed off, then looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

Luke grinned. “It’s okay. You live in Lincoln?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a forty-minute commute. Not bad. We’ll have at least one apartment available,” Mitchell said. “It’s free rent if you’re working for us.”

Luke nodded. Mitchell was off in New York now, and that place would do fine for the kid.

“And I think our do-everything guy is about to get busier,” Mitchell grinned.

Did this mean Mitchell was keeping the gym for sure? If he was hiring new staff, definitely. Mitchell wasn’t the type to get people’s hopes up. Luke’s chest was suddenly tight.

Mitchell paused, then dug out a business card. “Look, give me a call—”

“This says realtor?”

“Oh yeah, ignore the work number. Use my personal.”

Evan nodded jerkily.

“Give me a call on the personal number next week and we’ll arrange things,” Mitchell promised.

“Th-Thanks.” Evan didn’t seem to know what to say. “Thanks, man.” He reached out for a tentative handshake with both of them. When he shook Luke’s hand, he looked awed as he put the card in his pocket.

They watched him off, sharing smiles, then headed around the front of the building.

By this point, Luke wasn’t even surprised to see the Millers there, all three of them. The surprise was the dark-suited man with them.

Luke’s stomach sank.
Fuck. Why did I do that? Mitchell was right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on them…

“What…” Mitchell trailed off.

“Bet I know what they’re up to,” Luke murmured. “Either that, or they’re recruiting us to the ways of their Lord.”

“I’m here on behalf of Henrik’s & Pain Firm, representing my clients—” the guy began.

“You’re a lawyer. What do you want?” Luke cut him off. He noticed Mitchell’s lips quirk up in a barely concealed laugh.

The guy seemed taken aback, but he frowned. “I’m representing them as they press assault charges against you. Of course, they’re willing to settle…”

Luke’s body tensed. He didn’t know how to handle these guys, or what to say that wouldn’t be incriminating. He couldn’t just punch the guy. “I didn’t… I don’t…
shit
.”

But Mitchell had control of this situation. He laughed richly, then slid his hand into Luke’s to lightly squeeze. “Calm down,” he told Luke simply. Luke pressed his lips together and looked over at the Millers.

They didn’t look happy that Mitchell was calling their bluff.

“We’re pressing hate crime counter-charges, then. Our lawyer will be in touch.” He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder to steer him around the group, all the way through the parking lot to his car. Luke barely breathed the whole time. Once they were in the car, Luke hissed out a breath and turned to him.

“Shit.”

Mitchell just cupped his cheek for a moment, and Luke winced at the slight pressure to one of his bruises but didn’t pull back. “It’ll work out, babe.”

“All right,” Luke breathed out, then nodded. If he could face a man who wanted to kill him in the cage, he could face a couple assholes and their lawyer in court. “Right.”

“Come on. Get back to my hotel,” Mitchell smiled. “We’ve got two queens.”

Luke managed a smile. “A bed for each of us?”

“One to fuck on and one to sleep on.”

“Fancy.” Luke grinned at last, his cracked lips aching. He kept his hand on Mitchell’s knee as Mitchell drove them back through the still night to his hotel.

They were both contented to keep the peace and quiet until they got there, enjoying the contrast to the sweat- and testosterone-soaked arena they’d just left.

“
I
should probably
p-put bruise cream on you first… or somethin’… Nnh!”

Luke had been feeling him up all the way down the hallway. They were barely in the hotel room before Luke’s lips were on Mitchell’s neck. Luke slowly sucked against his skin. “Hm?”

“Never mind,” Mitchell gasped, his body suddenly pressed into Luke’s as he ran his hands up his back. “Just tell me where not to touch.”

“Don’t slap me anywhere and we’re fine,” Luke smirked, licking his way up to kiss Mitchell’s earlobe.

He loved doing that. Every time he licked or kissed his ear, Mitchell twitched. It was so fucking hot.

“’kay,” Mitchell whispered, grabbing him around the waist to haul him over toward the closer bed.

They hit the bed together, wrestling for a brief moment before Luke let Mitchell flip him over onto his back. He grinned up at him, running his hands up that slender torso. He’d dressed up nicely—dark trousers and a collared shirt. There was a blood spray across one shoulder and a few stains on the front.

“Sorry about the shirt,” Luke grinned.

Mitchell paused, then laughed lowly. “It’s nothing,” he murmured sincerely, his gaze on Luke’s. “You’re here.”

A shiver ran down Luke’s spine, and he reached up to lace his fingers with Mitchell’s for a moment. “I’m here,” he murmured. It was a promise, not just a fact.

Mitchell’s shoulders relaxed, and he gazed at his lover with a quiet smile.

Luke didn’t have time for that sappy shit yet. He just grinned at Mitchell. “And all that dick you missed out on last night is still here.”

That made Mitchell laugh, snapping him back to the moment. Mitchell leaned down to kiss him again, then stripped off his t-shirt and looked him up and down.

Luke was so relieved that Mitchell didn’t look disgusted or turned off. Neither was he turned on in any weird way, relishing his pain like so many audience members. Mitchell just accepted Luke’s body exactly the way it was.

In return, Luke unbuttoned the soiled shirt and tossed it aside, then worked on both their jeans as he ground his hips up in slow, rhythmic thrusts.

By the time they both kicked off their jeans, knees awkwardly knocking as cocks finally bobbed free, Luke was half-hard. It only took him hauling Mitchell down against him for another minute of intense kissing before that became
fully
hard, and so fucking ready.

Mitchell was grinding into his hip and across his abs in short, sharp thrusts of his own. Luke hissed his pleasure, tightening his stomach muscles.

“Hnnh,” Mitchell grunted, grabbing both of Luke’s hands to haul them above his head and kiss him hard. Although Luke’s side ached, he kissed back just as hard, letting Mitchell keep him pinned to the mattress.

Then, their cocks were lining up, sliding together and pressing along each other’s warm lengths. Luke’s body pulsated with pleasure, his stomach tensing again at the feeling of a cock grinding against his own.

His adrenaline thrummed again, so easily stirred once more by the prospect of an end to his dry week. Fuck, had it ever been hard waiting to see Mitchell again.

Luke wanted to grab Mitchell and pound him into the wall, the bed, the desk, anywhere he could, but he also wanted Mitchell to have the first round.

When Mitchell grabbed lube and a condom, Luke stole a moment to slap that sexy little ass, then grinned innocently. “What?”

“You’re a devil in the streets
and
the sheets, Luke Hanson,” Mitchell told him. This time, when he lubed up his own fingers, Luke didn’t stop him. His eyes just fell between Mitchell’s legs as Mitchell leaned back on one hand, his other sliding into his own tight hole.

Jesus fuck, that was
hot
to watch!

Luke’s jaw dropped at the sight of Mitchell thrusting his own fingers into himself, faster and harder than Luke would have. That gave him so many ideas for how to pound that sexy little ass into tomorrow, but he licked his lips and curled one of his hands tightly into the sheets. His other hand reached up to run up Mitchell’s chest and tweak his nipple.

“Nnnnh,” Mitchell vocally approved. He moaned again as he pushed his fingers fast and hard, then finally slid them out and wiped them off. He was almost swaying already.

“You gonna have enough stamina?” Luke teased. “Do I need to get you doing more bicep and tricep workouts? Get those pecs defined?”

Mitchell stuck out his tongue, and Luke crunched his stomach muscles to lean up and suck that tongue into his mouth.

“Mm!” Mitchell almost fell backwards. He moaned his approval anyway, quickly rocking forwards instead. He rode Luke back down to the mattress while kissing him hard. Mitchell took his turn sucking on the tip of Luke’s tongue, then sucked his lower lip and bit it.

The sharp burst of pain made Luke’s cock throb with need, and he ground it up into the crack between Mitchell’s legs.

“I haven’t… fucked anyone else before. Ever. Are you…?” Mitchell started to ask, then blushed. He didn’t seem sure how to ask.

Luke just grinned. His inexperience was adorable in the rare moments where it shone through. The rest of the time, Mitchell was so fucking sexy it was easy to forget he apparently hadn’t done this before. “I got tested, yeah. And it’s been months since anyone but you.”

Mitchell swallowed hard as he pushed himself to sit upright over Luke’s hard cock again. He gripped the base in his hand, stroking slowly with his wet hand to the flushed tip, then back down. “Can I… I mean, do you wanna go without the condom?”

“I’d love to.”

Mitchell’s entrance against the tip of his cock made Luke moan. He grunted with pleasure when Mitchell sank down onto and around him, enveloping him in his tight warmth.

They were holding hands tightly now, both hands clutched together as their fingers locked and curled hard. Luke’s hands were pinned against the bed once more this way, but he wasn’t complaining.

This
hottie could pin him every time he wanted to.

Luke thrust his hips up shallowly once or twice, helping get his cock deep and buried within the heat of him. “Oh,
Christ
, that’s incredible,” he whispered, his lips tingling with the desire to kiss Mitchell.

Mitchell set himself into a slow, tentative rise and fall of his hips. He thrust himself down onto Luke in quick, purposeful movements. Luke rolled his head back and moaned at how fucking incredible it felt.

All of Mitchell’s little sounds—at least one every time he pushed down onto Luke’s cock—spilled from his lips without restraint. Luke loved the fact that he hadn’t been trained to push down any sound of pleasure or pain in favor of only exertion and intimidation.

Mitchell was beautiful and raw, and Luke drank in the sight of him like water after a weigh-in.

It was only another couple minutes before Mitchell’s movements slowed, his chest heaving. “Your turn.”

That was all Luke had been waiting for.

He rolled them over, pinning Mitchell’s hands on the bed above his head and waiting for Mitchell to get his legs properly around his waist. Then he plunged deep inside, his balls smacking that sexy ass with each deep thrust.

“Yes!” Mitchell cried out, squeezing his hands hard. “Hard, baby. Don’t hold back… please.” His cock twitched with the next thrust, and his whole body shivered with pleasure. That angle was just right for Mitchell’s prostate, then.