Fist to the Heart Ch. 04

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Fools play by the rules.
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Part 5 of the 21 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 05/17/2019
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Chapter Four - Fools Play By The Rules

Johnny was damned pleased with himself. He had that pretty boy in his pocket, and he would pick up a nice paycheck while at it. The playful banter between them was almost making him think there was more there than it truly was.

The thing was Ruslan was frigging beautiful. A hot thing in bed, too. Plus, he could go at it, by what he had said, and what Johnny had seen with his own two eyes, for enough time to satisfy both of them.

Guys he knew and fucked loved to be taken hard. They had no issue with being used. But no one had been as hungry for cock as this pretty man. Nor as beautiful. Only thinking about those blue eyes, burning with lust, was making him hard as a rock.

It had been nothing but an impulse to stake a claim on Ruslan Kent in front of the others. No one messed with his toys. He wasn't protective, or possessive. Whoever dared to piss on his turf was bound to end up with a broken nose or worse, though. It was all about respect.

Yeah, he took one look in the mirror, as he flexed his arms a few times, to work out some kinks from his shoulders. A satisfying pop on each shoulder and he was good. Pretty boy Ruslan Kent could have anyone. So the fact that he chose some low life fighter from the wrong side of the tracks like him had to stand for something.

Johnny was not one to fool himself. He knew what he was and where he was coming from. There was no pedigree dangling around his neck. Nor was he rich. One look in the mirror could tell him he didn't exactly have a face that made sexy guys drool over him.

But he was rough and tough. And some, even pretty men like Ruslan Kent, liked that. Forget about being nothing but a mutt. He knew how to fight, and he knew how to fuck.

And it seemed that those two skills he had honed to perfection were the only needed to nail someone like Efige's boss's son and nail him hard.

He wasn't going blindly into this. There was money to make; that was true. There was a sexy ass to fuck and came attached to a lean body and a frigging beautiful face. At least for the duration of the tournament, he would have the time of his life.

Of course, sweet lips knew that, too. Ruslan wasn't buying into his bullshit. But it was a game both liked, so it was all 'kay.

No one would buy some picket fences crib in the suburbs. But, boy, Johnny grinned in the mirror, Ruslan would get fucked all these weeks to last him a decade. And Johnny would fuck his fill, too, because an opportunity to get freaky with a guy of that caliber was sure to come once every ten years.

***

Wasn't that just some stupid luck? Johnny grinned when he saw his opponent jumping in the ring. The man's ugly scar seemed darker under the hot neon lights, drawing Johnny's attention to it. With a little luck, he would give him another tonight. Or just split the one he had right open.

Yeah, Unibrow would bleed, Johnny nodded to himself. He eyed his enemy and, in turn, the other grinned at him, showing misshapen teeth.

Johnny hoped Ruslan was watching this. Right now, he needed to focus on destroying the scumbag in front of him. That was some dumb twist of fate, right there, to have in the arena, ready to go against him, the idiot he wanted to fuck up.

Unless, of course, it had all been arranged for him to meet the asshole who had dared to insult Ruslan in front of him. That was even better. It meant that Ruslan wanted to see him at work. Evaluate him. See if he was fit, after all, and if he only talked bullshit.

He didn't. And he would prove it, by sending the scumbag to the floor within the first minute of the match.

***

Ruslan watched in shock as Johnny's opponent hit the floor with a thud.

"What the hell?" He turned toward the old man. "How come Snake is fighting this dude of all the fighters available for this round?"

His father shrugged, but Ruslan could smell a lie from out campus, even when it was his papa doing the lying.

"C'mon, why?" he complained. "Do you really want to see him out of the picture? He'll do something stupid. I thought you wanted him."

"Not as much as I want him away from you," the old man replied.

They watched the match from a private booth, partially obscured from the ring.

"You can't be serious," Ruslan mumbled. "I won't give up on fucking him just because you say so."

"Ruslan, aren't you a bit too old to have a rebellious phase?" the old man scolded him.

His father was calling him by his name, and not the endearing alternative when he wanted to show his disapproval.

"Seriously, don't you have a bit of trust in me? What do you think will happen? I told you. He won't hurt me," Ruslan said stubbornly.

The old man said nothing for a while, as he continued to watch the game. "A good fighter is not the one who can throw the heaviest punches, or move the quickest. Consider this a test. If Snake fights like a stray, with no care for rules, I don't need him in my ring."

"Weren't you the one going after him? Since when do you change your mind overnight?" Ruslan asked, feeling his irritation growing.

In the ring below, Snake was sending his opponent to the floor for the second time.

"Since you're making an obsession for him. Should it have been just one time, I would have had nothing against it."

"Obsession? Aren't you exaggerating a bit?"

"Ruslan, he called you his," the old man said sternly. "That's unacceptable."

"Why? It's only a frigging joke! He doesn't mean anything by it! How dumb do you think I am? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're like one of those doting fathers who never let their daughters marry because no guy is ever good enough for their little princess!"

The old man threw him an odd look. Ruslan could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

"Oh, no, you are," he said, but the words came out of his mouth hesitantly. He could not believe this. "Seriously?" he exclaimed, seeing that the man didn't deny it. "I survived the orphanage. I survived the streets. It's not like I'm some Red Riding Hood in peril of being devoured by the big bad wolf!"

The old man chuckled and shook his head. "I know you're not, Russy. But you're in my care now. C'mon, after Snake messes up his debut, let's go somewhere you like. There's a new club opening. And it caters to gentlemen of a certain persuasion, such as you. You'll love it."

"Oh, damn, you want to cruise the gay clubs with me now?" Ruslan sneered.

He had no idea why he was getting so worked up about. It wasn't like the old man ever wished him any harm. But being treated like he was twelve now felt like a boot crushing his windpipe. Strangely enough, his father's overbearing care and attention hadn't bothered him before.

Yanis had called the old man a freak. And Ruslan wasn't blind. Maybe his obsession with protecting Ruslan wasn't exactly healthy. But they were nothing like that. The old man had never asked for any sexual favors; he had demanded respect. And so far, with minor mishaps, Ruslan had shown respect. Affection, too, although that hadn't been explicitly asked.

Still, at the moment, he felt revolted at being pulled back by the old man's short leash. It wasn't even because he wanted Snake that badly, although he did. It was a matter of doing what he wanted; and for that reason, he did feel, indeed, rebellious.

The old man sighed. "Snake will show his true colors. You cannot think he's serious about you now, can you?"

"I told you," Ruslan said through his teeth, well aware that he sounded like a fifteen-year-old whose parents didn't want to let him hang out with his friends at some after dark party. "It's bullshit. He brags I'm his boyfriend, and I don't care about it. We both know it's not true. We're just screwing around. C'mon, stop pestering me. I only look to get laid, that's all."

"I only have your best interest in mind, Russy. Snake might have ulterior motives."

"Like what? Marrying me and inheriting your big ass fortune? Give me a break." Ruslan threw his hands down. "You know that's not the case. It's not like I'd ever get married, anyway. And I don't want to inherit anything. Leave everything to your relatives. What you're giving me now is more than enough."

"Ruslan!" the old man boomed.

Ruslan made himself little in his chair. He shouldn't have spoken so casually about what would happen after the man died. "Sorry, papa," he said meekly.

A paper like hand rested on top of his. "You can do better than Snake, Russy," the old man said, appeased now. "And you will inherit my fortune. I don't care what the entire world says about it."

"But won't that invite trouble?" Ruslan said, moving his hand enough to grab the other's. "I know those vultures. Tell them they'll get everything. At least they'll leave you alone."

"It will be a cold day in hell when I'll let that happen." The old man set his chin high. "They deserve nothing. All they ever wanted from me was money."

"I want money, too," Ruslan joked, to ease the atmosphere. The old man's relatives were a sore point.

His father caressed his cheek tenderly. "You're bringing me joy in my old years, Russy," he said. "That's all that matters."

"Joy, really? Because it looks like I only give you headaches. Okay, papa, if Snake makes a fool of himself in the ring, I won't have anything to do with him. But at least give him the benefit of the doubt. You gave me a chance. Who wouldn't you give him one, too?"

"Fine," the old man admitted. "You're right. Let's see how he's faring now."

***

Damn scumbag was built like a brick house, even if he didn't look like it. Johnny had already sent the asshole to the floor three times, but he was still getting up. It wasn't that he would lose, but it didn't seem to be as easy as he would have liked. Ruslan would think him soft if he didn't sort this fast.

He circled his opponent, trying to gauge his weaknesses. The man had no style. He was throwing punches and kicks as if he was in a street fight, not a ring. Johnny knew the kind. The type of animal you have to squash under your heel so that he never gets up again to bite you.

An opening presented itself when Unibrow put down his guard, hoping to get him to act recklessly. But Johnny was now strategizing. He jabbed, making his opponent's head jerk back. The scumbag put his guard back up.

It was time to let the idiot think he had a chance. Dancing around him, Johnny feigned a grimace and worked his shoulder. Hmm, strange, he thought. Unibrow wasn't taking the bait. What the fuck was going on there? Could it be that the monkey brain had smelled the setup?

Johnny hadn't earned his nickname only because of his quick attacks with the pinpoint accuracy of a neurosurgeon's knife. The difference between him and the rest of the losers was that he knew how to use his head.

And that kind of play smelled fishy to him. He tried again, this time making it more visible.

Still, there was no response from the other. Instead, the scumbag was trying to bait him, too.

Johnny's mind was now frantically searching for an answer. What the fuck was this idiot trying to pull? He needed to finish this match. And he had thought the rings at Efige were clean. Not so squeaky it seemed.

The way he saw things, there was only one way of solving this. He had an inkling what his opponent was trying to bait him into doing.

But only fools played by the rules. And he didn't mean only the rules in the ring. Johnny wasn't a survivor well worthy of being called Snake because he just saw what was right in front of his eyes. He was still standing because he knew how to trick others into thinking they could read him.

There was no such thing. He wasn't some book in some damned library.

He steeled himself and focused. For what he had in mind, he needed to be fast. His opponent danced around him, baiting him again.

One, Johnny thought and unleashed the attack. His fist connected with the other's jaw.

He doubled.

Tripled on it.

Two.

Man down.

That was all he needed — the time between two beats.

The blood pounded in his temples, covering everything else. The referee was on him, pushing him aside and yelling at him. Apparently, he was still towering over the fallen man, ready to kick him before he got up.

He grinned and spat the mouthpiece covering his teeth. Fuck them all. He had broken no rules. That was something he knew he needed to be careful about. Turning his back, he began to walk away.

But the referee caught him by the elbow and dragged him in the middle of the ring. By the time his fist was in the air, claiming his victory, the cheers had broken the blood barrier in his ears, subduing the pounding of his heart.

Like a man who had just escaped drowning, his senses were coming back to him. His ears made a small pop, and his hearing was back.

He stood victorious.

***

So Ruslan had decided to play him a little, Johnny thought. He let the hot stream pelt his face, as his well-trained mind worked toward disentangling that particular puzzle. Ruslan wanted Johnny. He had made it clear on both occasions they fucked. Ruslan Kent hadn't acted like a prized lay.

Just like a man who knew what he wanted without playing games. So why the hell now? Why try baiting him in the ring, of all places? To see if he could keep his wits about him?

By all means, he should have felt pissed. But Johnny knew that kind of emotion you kept it for the cage, not outside it. There had been a time, when he had been reckless and stupid, and paid for that kind of shit.

Not anymore. He was frigging twenty-eight years old, and no one could treat him like a kid anymore. A kid with a mean fist. He welcomed that particular memory with a snort.

Ruslan Kent, he thought again, washing the grime of the fight off his body. Could it be that pretty boy decided not to play? It wasn't like they knew each other from Adam. All he knew about him was that he had a tight ass and a sweet mouth. Otherwise, they were nothing but strangers.

Well, there was no point in dwelling on it. So Ruslan's gorgeous ass was off the table. Not that big a deal, he thought, soaping his balls. His dick was not entirely in agreement with him. Giving it a harsh rub to behave, he turned his back to feel the hot water on his tight muscles.

"Fuck him," he said to no one in particular.

"Who?"

Johnny blinked. What the heck? He was supposed to be the last in there. Through the haze of steam, he made out a silhouette leaning against the wall. Fully dressed. He had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed someone walking in.

Ruslan moved slowly, with measured steps, his eyes set on Johnny.

"Good game," the pretty man said.

Johnny shook his head and turned. He wouldn't walk into that trap. Whatever blue eyes wanted, he could piss off and get it somewhere else.

The hands wrapping his chest and the clothed body gluing to his from behind took him by surprise, nonetheless.

"You're going to get your nice clothes wet, darling," he drawled the words.

"I don't care," Ruslan whispered into his ear, making a short and intense chill travel his spine, like an almost unbearable tickle.

"I thought you wanted me out. Paying that asshole to bait me?" Johnny said roughly but didn't push the man away. "I thought you better than that. Hell, I thought it would be a clean fight."

"Ugh, that wasn't me," Ruslan replied with a small huff. "How could you tell, though?"

His hands traveled over Johnny's chest, mapping his pecs, and then slowly his abs. Johnny grabbed them before getting lower.

"So who was it?" he asked, just as roughly.

No pretty boy was going to play him like this. Even if he knew his cock was rock hard and asking for the blond man to offer one of his hot holes right that moment.

"Papa," Ruslan offered, annoyance clear in his voice. "He thinks he can tell me who to fuck."

Johnny turned. Ruslan's clothes were soaked through now, and his pretty blond hair was hanging in loose strands, now darker, heavy with water. He pushed them away from the pretty face, to look into his eyes. Innocent enough. He wouldn't say 'no'; it wasn't like he had been abandoned at the altar or anything.

Grinning, he made his point known. "You here for dick then?" he said roughly.

Ruslan nodded, quite enthusiastically.

"Then get on your knees and suck me," Johnny said.

Ruslan was ready to drop into position, but Johnny thought better of it.

"Wait." He caught Ruslan right on time. "Come here first."

Ruslan's plump lips tasted a bit of chlorine and hot water, but Johnny didn't care. That mouth was his. That lean body, draped in designer's clothes, was his. So he reached deeper with his tongue, making Ruslan gasp and turn to putty into his arms.

"Fucking tasty," he commented, and this time around, he was the one to push Ruslan to his knees. "Now get to work."

Ruslan didn't look like he needed a special invitation for that. His elegant long fingers were digging deep into Johnny's hips, as he swallowed the hard cock with the practiced ease of someone who knew how to pleasure a guy.

Johnny brought Ruslan's hair into a wet bun at the back of his head. If the pretty man ever wanted to be less pretty, he needed to cut his hair. Nah, who was he kidding? Ruslan Kent was sex on two legs, and Johnny was fucking lucky to nail that fine piece of ass, long hair or not.

Not just a fine piece of ass, he let his mind be blown to smithereens as Ruslan worked his pole like he had been starved for weeks. Lucky him; there was a warm meal coming his way quicker than Johnny had managed to finish his opponent just earlier.

Ruslan was using one hand to help himself steady the cock he was treating like a delicious lollipop. His tongue was doing swirls and wraps, caressing and attacking the gland with extra pressure, just enough to make the head grow in his mouth to an impossible size.

It wasn't like he didn't want to enjoy Ruslan's cock polishing technique, but Johnny wanted him in a bed, and as soon as possible. He was round the clock much more than Ruslan. Until Monday morning. That was his deadline.

And just letting the pretty man enjoy a serving of hot jizz didn't serve that particular purpose.

"Here it comes," he said, trying to joke, but failing.

He came with a loud growl, keeping Ruslan's mouth stuffed with cock, by holding him by the back of his neck. The tight throat was moving around his hard pole forcing itself to stretch, making the release freakishly intense.

"Ah, fuck," he murmured contently, as he let go slowly.

Ruslan coughed discreetly as if he didn't want to ruin the moment. Johnny didn't miss his chance. He pulled Ruslan up and kissed him hungrily. It looked like he had swallowed everything. There was a faint taste lingering on Ruslan's tongue, and Johnny chased it, as the physical proof of the fact that this rich boy had sucked him dry without making a fuss.

"Fuck, you're a mess." He chuckled, as soon as he released Ruslan from his hold.

"Don't you worry about that. I'll go change. You get ready and meet me in the front."

"Where're we going?"

"You promised me this weekend, and Saturday's almost over. So I'm taking you to my place," Ruslan said as he reluctantly pulled himself away from Johnny. "I have everything prepared. To keep your energy up and everything."

"I don't do drugs," Johnny said roughly.

Not anymore.

Ruslan patted his chest and smiled.

"Who said anything about that? I'm talking about protein in delicious and healthy sizes and shapes. You must keep these guns," he chirped, feeling Johnny's biceps.

"Ah, so no aphrodisiacs? Champagne and the like?" Johnny joked, a bit relieved.

"You're not supposed to drink." Ruslan wagged the finger at him. "All right, a bit of wine, but that's all. Your body is a temple, mister," he joked, and this time, Johnny caught his hand and playfully bit the wagging finger.

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