Brotherhood of Bearded Alphas and Betas

Micah McIntyre

Funny how much history can catch up with you while a three-hundred-pound bastard is trying to fold you in half.

Tommy Davis has me stretched across his knee, my spine bending over a leg thick enough to make a decent tree trunk, and every time I think I’ve found a way to take some pressure off my back, he adjusts and takes it away. I can deal with pain. Been doing that most of my life in one form or another. What concerns me is the man applying it. Somewhere during the last few minutes, Tommy stopped fighting me and started fighting someone who isn’t in this ring.

Johann fucking Brakkus.

I should have known his name would find its way into this sooner or later. Johann and I have enough history of our own, and I got smart enough years ago to leave before whatever existed between us became the rest of my life. Apparently walking away from a man doesn’t mean you stop crossing paths with the damage he leaves behind.

I certainly didn’t come to Cannon Towers looking for him. That honor belongs to James Cannon, courtesy of the bastard whose battered body I delivered here tonight.

Silas Thorne walked into Hunter Productions without any of us realizing Cannon had put him there. He poisoned the air we breathed, got inside our heads and turned the HunterVerse against Tobias and me until I was convinced my best friend was trying to destroy everything we had built together. I nearly killed Tobias because of it. He was the one who finally broke through the drugs and manipulation long enough to turn Silas’ own technology against him, and once we had Thorne, the name behind the whole thing eventually came out.

Cannon.

The asshole wanted our pay-per-view stopped. Tobias and I held it anyway, and we made sure Cannon got a good look at what remained of the man he sent to stop us. We weren’t gentle with Silas afterward either. I’m not going to rewrite that part of the story now because I happen to be lying across the knee of someone who gives a shit about him. Silas came after us. Tobias and I made him pay.

[Read the full Hunter Productions story: Hunter Virus Files – https://mars.chatfighters.com/book/1287]

I probably could have left it there. Instead, an invitation arrived from somebody inside Cannon’s operation with one condition attached. Bring Silas. That was how I ended up crossing an ocean right after the New Year with Thorne restrained in the back of a car and Cannon Towers filling the windshield. I wanted to know why Cannon had come after us, what else he had planned and who inside his organization wanted to talk badly enough to invite me into the bastard’s home.

Turns out that somebody was Tommy Davis.

The mountain currently trying to rearrange my vertebrae took one look at Silas and almost came apart. Whatever Cannon sent Thorne to do at Hunter Productions, Tommy hadn’t been part of it. Silas had disappeared from his life months earlier with barely an explanation, and the next time Tommy saw him was on footage from our pay-per-view, bruised and restrained while Tobias and I sent Cannon our message. Tommy had spent the months since digging around behind his mentor’s back, trying to find out what the hell had happened to Silas. Eventually he found us, and his invitation brought Silas home.

It also brought me straight to him.

[Catch up on Silas Returns: Parts 1 & 2 – https://mars.chatfighters.com/story/94115 ; https://mars.chatfighters.com/story/94906]

We tried talking. That went about as well as anyone who knows either of us could have predicted. Tommy blamed me for what happened to Silas. I blamed Cannon for putting him inside Hunter Productions in the first place. A conference room wasn't big enough for the argument, so eventually we ended up down here in Cannon’s private ring settling things in a language both of us understand considerably better.

That was when Johann entered the conversation.

Johann Brakkus was my first real mentor when I broke into the pro wrestling circuit. Before Hunter Productions, before Tobias and everything that came later, there was Brakkus. I trained under him, lived with him, learned how to read another man in the ring and how to make him regret every weakness he showed me. Johann taught me plenty about hurting people, and probably even more about the kind of man I didn’t want to become. Eventually I walked away from him and built something of my own, but you don’t spend that much time learning from someone without carrying some of him with you.

I knew Tommy fought for Cannon. I knew Brakkus had done something to him that went well beyond losing a match, because every time Johann’s name came up, something in Tommy changed. The anger got sharper. Less controlled. He talked about Brakkus like a man who had been waiting a long time to get his hands on him again, and whatever happened between them clearly hadn’t stayed in the past. I didn’t know the whole story yet. I didn’t know how Cannon fit into it, or why Tommy was fighting under his banner. All I knew was that Johann Brakkus had left his mark on both of us.

Mine just looked a hell of a lot different than Tommy’s.

[Read the story of Brakkus & Stone’s attack on Tommy Davis – Brakkus’ Revenge https://mars.chatfighters.com/story/85636]

Which brings me back to the knee digging into my spine.

Tommy isn’t looking at me anymore. I’ve watched it happen a little at a time as Johann’s name worked its way deeper under his skin. One second he knows exactly who he has stretched across his leg. The next he’s demanding to know where Brakkus is, accusing me of working for him, convinced the man I walked away from years ago somehow sent me here to finish whatever he and Stone started.

The fucked-up part is that I know Johann well enough to recognize some of what I’m seeing. He knows how to crawl inside somebody’s head and leave something behind. Whatever happened between you and him, it sure as hell didn’t stay in the past. Somehow tonight I walked straight into the middle of it carrying Silas Thorne.

But Johann didn’t send me.

I drag another breath into lungs that don’t have enough room for it and tighten my hands around you as your knee drives harder into my back. Fighting the hold isn’t getting me anywhere, and screaming Brakkus’ name back at you sure as hell isn’t going to help. I need to get through whatever you’re seeing long enough to make you look down and recognize the man actually lying across your knee.

There’s no break in the pressure. If anything, it intensifies. Your knee drives harder into my back as you lean into the hold with everything you’ve got behind it. My spine bends farther over you, the strain biting into my ribs and spreading across my chest, every breath cut short before my lungs can fill. Without thinking, my hands tighten on you, holding on while my body fights to keep from giving way. My muscles shift under the load, tightening, releasing, searching for something that takes the edge off, but there’s no clean angle left to work from. You’ve got me stretched out, my torso exposed, gear tenting, and every adjustment you make drags more out of me whether I want it to or not.

You’re not hearing me. I can tell that much from the way your voice changes when you say his name. Your eyes find mine again, but I’m not convinced you’re seeing me yet. I drag in a breath that catches in my throat, then force another against the pressure so I can get out the words you need to hear. 

“He… didn’t… send… me…” 

It’s rough but steady, pushed through the strain instead of breaking under it. Not a plea. Not an excuse. Just the truth, put out there while you’re still deciding what I am to you.

You crank the hold again and it hits deep, my back locking against it as the pain spikes and settles in harder than before. My breath breaks, comes back uneven, my head dropping back, sweat dripping from my brow, tracking through my hair and pooling onto the canvas. I force myself up again, eyes finding yours through the way you’re looking at me. There’s something off there now, something that doesn’t stop at anger. You’re right on the edge of losing control of it, and I can feel that sick panic in you as much as the pressure you’re putting on me.

“I know exactly what he is…” I get out, quieter now, but clear enough to carry. “How his sadistic, fucked-up mind works…” My body stays tight over your knee, every muscle working to hold together under the strain while I keep my focus locked on you. “And I’m not here to finish his work.”

Tommy Davis
“He… didn’t… send… me…”

 “And I’m not here to finish his work.”

Your words come through a haze, a distortion of reality that my mind is giving to me.  

Sure he says that, but can you trust him?  Can you trust anyone connected to me?

My head snaps around as I hear his voice right in my ear. Panic starts to ebb deeper into cracks that I thought filled/healed.  Can this ginger brute be working for him?  Can all this be a setup to drag me down once again?  Is he hunting me still?  Is this the next move in his plan?

Shaking my head hard, I try to thrust the thoughts away, attempting to get some clarity in this moment.

You know what I am capable of boy!

“NO!”  I scream out as my hands grip tighter onto your neck and thigh, bending you ever further back as the darkness deepens around me.  Cannon, Atlas, Silas, even the lads from Comptons all flash through my head ending in your face.  Each one sneering at me with HIS smile.  “NO NO NO NO NO!”  My words coming out fast and the hint of a cackle that was there before is now deeper, harsher than it was before.  My breath catches in my throat as I hear the laughter echoing off the high ceiling, the reverberations only making it sound like everyone I have begun to trust laughing at me.

That is when I hear your pained sounds getting more and more desperate and my head slowly turns from staring up into the darkness at the faces hanging there, watching me, judging me.  I look down and see the anguish etched on your features.

BLINK

It is myself stretched out in the hold, Brakkus holding me in our very first match, his mocking words distant and the roar of the crowd a dull roar.  I see myself, young, innocent, alone in the ring against this monster.  Trapped in his hold, screaming for him to let me go and getting mocked in response.

BLINK

Your face returns and suddenly everything around me shatters like glass.  My hands, holding tight onto you before, now pushing you off of me, shoving you away and to the canvas like you are poison, or that the realization of what I was doing and who I was becoming is anathema to me.

My hands and feet scramble on the canvas and I back away into the corner of the ring, back pressing into it as I try to retreat further for a moment before my thick arms wrap around myself and I huddle there, shaking, eyes darting around, not really seeing anything around me in this moment.

“No……Not him. I am not him………please, never him?”

Micah McIntyre
The pressure keeps climbing until it stops feeling like something I can manage and starts feeling like something that’s going to tear me apart. Your knee is wedged under my spine, forcing my back even farther over it, bending me in a way my body won’t accept. My ribs feel like they’re being pried apart with every breath I try to take, the air catching halfway in before it turns sharp and useless in my chest. I gag as your fingers dig deeper into my throat while the fingers of your other hand clamp down and start dissecting my quad, pressing me back farther. I can feel the tendons pulling tight, the warning there in a way that doesn’t need to be explained. My back locks against it, muscles seizing around the pressure, and the sounds that come out of me now aren’t controlled at all, they’re forced loose by the way you keep dragging me deeper into it.

Your voice cuts through it, louder and rougher. There’s something off in it, something slipping, just like the change in the way your body holds me. The pressure is still there, still punishing, but the control behind it is gone. You’re not placing it anymore, not working me into the hold with intent. You’re forcing it. The words you’re throwing at me don’t line up, not with each other, not with what’s actually happening in this ring. You’re looking at me, but you’re not seeing me. Through the pain, I somehow connect with it. I’ve been on the other side of that look not long ago, when things stopped lining up and I couldn’t tell what was really happening to me.

You push harder again, my back arching over your knee as the strain spikes straight through my ribs, hips, and quads at the same time. My breath breaks completely this time, my chest locking as I try to drag air in. I can’t get enough. My hands grab at you without thinking, fingers digging in just to anchor myself while my body tries to ride it out. My vision tightens at the edges, not blacking out, just narrowing under the pressure and the lack of air. Then suddenly, it stops. Your hands shove me away and the support under my back is gone all at once.

The drop to the canvas is clumsy and uncontrolled. My weight hits wrong as I come down on my side and shoulder, the impact sending another jolt through my ribs that pulls a sharp gasp out of me. I roll with it, curling in around the pain as one arm wraps across my midsection while I try to get air back into my lungs. It comes in shallow, uneven gasps as my chest fights to open fully after being forced tight for so long. My back throbs where you had it bent over your knee, the muscles still locked and slow to release, each breath loosening them a fraction at a time. I stay down just long enough to get something steady back, then push up onto a hand, lifting my head and looking for you.

You’re not coming at me.

You’re in the corner, pressed into it like you’re trying to disappear into it, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes moving without settling on anything in front of you. You’re talking, but it’s not to me. Not really. The words are broken up, quieter now, like they’re coming from somewhere else entirely. I’ve seen that look before. Not in a ring like this, but close enough. After the beatings I endured at Hunter Productions, after the blackout runs and the mess that followed, there were moments where everything felt just as off, just as wrong, like the ground under it wasn’t real anymore. You’re there now, stuck in something that isn’t our fight, and for the first time since I entered this building, I’m not waiting for you to attack.

I push up to my feet slower than I want to, testing my back as I straighten, keeping my weight under me as I take a step toward you. I don’t rush it. I don’t close the distance like I’m going back on offense. I watch you, measure where you are, where your head is, making sure this isn’t a feint before I move closer. The pain is still there, throbbing through my entire body, but it’s not the focus anymore. You are.

“I’m not him,” I say, my voice low, steady, meant for you and nothing else.

Tommy Davis

My eyes dart around in my skull, looking around frantically but not seeing this place.  I am barely aware of the canvas beneath me or the padded corner that my back is still trying to become a part of.  As thick, strong arms surround me, my own I think, my mind races down dark trails in my subconscious.   Trails filled with pain, blood and betrayal.

You were never really in my league boy. 

Brakkus’ voice slithers out of the darkness. I flinch as the shadow cast by my own form on the ground shifts and grows until the Shade of Brakkus stands before me, eyes glowing with crimson light, his mouth opens and as words begin to form flames lick around the dark lips.

You saw what I can make happen, you felt it BOY.  I have allies everywhere.  Even here…..

“No…..Not real……..Can’t be……I am safe here…….It is safe here, right?.......Please don’t be real………..Help me please……..Someone……….”  Quiet, panicked words issue forth, barely audible to my own ears let alone anyone else's as my eyes continue to stare widely at the shape only I can see standing before me.

The ring moves and shifts as you stand.  I feel the movement but do not see you, only the shade that grows as you stand up.  I try to press myself through the padding on the corner of the ring as the fiery mouth opens wider and laughter bubbles out like molten lava,  a sound that is echoed by my own, nervous and breaking.  The eyes brighten for a moment causing me to flinch once again.

Your words cut through the haze of my own words and the laughter susurrating in the depths of my mind and my head snaps up, eyes wild. Panting as I stare at the dark shape before me.  You take another step, seeming to burst through the shadow of Brakkus. As you do it breaks into a thousand shards and I see you, still in shadow, but human at the very least. Then you speak once more, the words reaching my ears for the first time.

“Not him……but HIS!”  I snap out.  My head jerks forward as if spitting the words at you like a shield to protect myself.   “He sent you, didn’t he?   He wants to finish me off.  HE WANTS TO FINISH ME FOR GOOD THIS TIME, RIGHT?”   The volume of my words building until the last roars out, the madness behind the words cracking them and making my voice harsh and discordant.  

Face it BOY.  You cannot escape me and you never could.   Cannon built you up to face me knowing what would happen.   You are nothing to him and you are less than that to me.  Just a toy for me to play with and then discard when I am done with you.

The shade reforms behind you now, looking over your shoulder as one of its hands caresses down your arm.  My eyes widen as they cast back and forth from your face, the calm look of someone trying to placate and make someone feel safe, and the burning orbs of the dark form over your shoulder, its burning chasm of a mouth tilted in a mocking sneer.

Micah McIntyre
You’re not seeing me. Your eyes are fixed past my shoulder, tracking something that isn’t there. I know that place because I’ve been in it… why I’m here. Because of Silas and Cannon, I was the one trying to fight through it, head full of things that didn’t belong to me, nothing lining up, nothing holding still. You’re there now, stuck between what’s real and what isn’t, and your fight and issue with me isn’t what you’re reacting to anymore.

I take another step, slow and deliberate, keeping my hands where you can see them. My back aches from the hold, ribs splinting every time I breathe, but I keep myself upright as I close the distance. You’re still dangerous. That hasn’t changed. But right now you’re not in control of where that danger goes, and I’m not giving you anything sudden to feel threatened by.

“Look at me.”

My voice stays low and even, not rising, not sharp. I keep it steady, knowing the wrong word or a shift in tone could trigger you to attack. I step close enough that you can’t miss me if your focus shifts even a little. “I’m right here. Me… Micah… Not him.” I keep my eyes on yours, holding that space, giving you something real to lock onto. “He’s not in this ring. He’s not attacking you.”

I move in another inch, slow and controlled, one hand lifting just enough to hover near your arm, not grabbing, not crowding, just there so you know where I am. “You want him?” I add, quieter now, something harder under it. “You don’t get him by tearing through me.”

I hold my ground in front of you, not backing off, not pushing in. “I know what he is, what he’s capable of,” I say, firm now, no hesitation in it. “That’s why I walked away from him. I’m not here for him. I’m here with you.”

Tommy Davis

You come closer, words calm and voice level.  Each step deliberate and steady, nothing sudden, nothing to make my precarious grip on this moment slip.

There is a part of me, deep down in the depths of the darkness that applauds you and welcomes this approach…..even as the rest of me hears the dripping sarcasm oozing from the maw of the shadow creature that resembles Brakkus.  The thing that keeps step with you.  Glancing over your shoulder with each step forward.

Look at him.  Oh have I not taught him well.  Making you feel calm and at ease before he jumps you.  Oh I am so proud of my creation.   Maybe I could have made Silas into this, if he was not such a disappointment.

Every fibre of my being tenses as your hand creeps closer to my arm, until I can feel the warmth from it.   Warmth, the same warmth that exudes from your words.  There is no way a creation of HIS would ever be kind.  A false friend maybe, we experienced that before with the hulking bitch monster, but this……is different.

I allow my eyes to shift from the crimson eyes over your shoulder, taking in the azure pools, set in ivory lagoons.  I have seen the sly eyes of Cannon, the raging eyes of Stone and Brakkus and various other gazes that were aimed at me and yet this one has no malice.  A little fear in the moment maybe, but no ill intent.

I let the cool blue wash over me, praying that the waters do not contain hidden dangers.  Needing to trust one more time.  Slowly I come up to my feet, unsteady, body twitching as if ready to flee, but still pressed into the corner.  My hand lifts, tentatively, towards your own until, with a heavy sigh, I allow them to touch.   

“Please……..please be real……Please don’t be his”  I beseech you as my fingers interlace with yours, the warmth of your touch spreading down my hand and as it does the image of HIM over your shoulder grimaces and then begins to fade.

Soon boy…….Real soon.   It growls.

Micah McIntyre

Your fingers lace into mine and I close around them without hesitation, firm enough that you can feel the pressure, steady enough that it doesn’t read as a threat. Your hand is warm, a little unsteady, and I hold it, anchoring you with something real in the middle of everything else trying to pull you away. I step in even closer, slow and controlled, bringing myself into your space, leaving no distance for your eyes to wander past me again. My back spasms with deep, throbbing aches, ribs tight with every breath, but I keep my posture straight and my grip constant. You need something solid to lock onto.

“I’m real,” I say, voice low and even, not raised, not softened. “Right here.”

Your eyes are on mine now, and I lock in tight. There’s tension in you, in the way your shoulders hold, in the way your breath comes and goes. You’re here, at least part of you is. I stay focused on that, not whatever else is pulling at you. My thumb shifts once against your hand, small and deliberate, something you can feel and track, bringing your attention back to the present, back to me.

“You think I’d take orders from him?” I add, quieter, still catching my breath, working to keep my voice and tone controlled. “You think I’d come in here doing his work?”

I step in another inch, the heat from you warming my skin, close enough that there’s no confusion about who and where I am. My free hand comes up slowly, stopping near your shoulder before I place it on your sweat-soaked skin, light at first, then firmer, enough to keep you anchored without forcing anything.

“I walked away from him years ago,” I say, voice steady, no hesitation in it. “Didn’t give him what he wanted, wouldn’t become the man he wanted me to be. Couldn’t live with myself to be associated with the likes of him.”

Your hand is still in mine, your grip tighter now, and I hold it without shifting, letting you know that I’m not going anywhere. My eyes stay on yours, keeping you here, keeping you focused on something that isn’t inside your own head.

“He’s not here,” I say, voice quieter now, but firm. “And I’m not his.”

Tommy Davis
Your thumb caresses the back of my shaking hand as you speak to me of leaving Brakkus behind, about not being able to be what he wanted, and I begin to relax a little.  “Please let this not be a lie” I think to myself and there is no echoing response from the darkness in this moment.  It is just us here now, the shade has faded.

You step in and my breath freezes in my chest, as my whole core tightens, expecting an attack that does not come.  Forcing myself to take a breath through my nose causes me to smell your scent.  The sweat from our tussle hangs heavy around you as does the sharp scent of adrenaline laced through it.  I focus harder and bring my eyes down from the cerulean depths that I was swimming in, to see your body, the way you are standing, the forced way you are breathing.  You are in pain, caused by me.

I try to think back, I recall getting you in the surfboard variant and then I think I shifted you into something else, but that is fuzzy.  Focus will not come, and yet there is something there.  Something about…..HIM….and using his move maybe?  No, I would not do that, would I?

I listen as you speak more and I can hear how your voice catches when you draw too deep a breath, when you move wrong. 

“Did I hurt you?  I did, didn’t I?”  My voice is quiet  “I just wanted to make you sore and make you apologise for what was done to Si……..but……….”  Your eyes and face swim out of focus as my own fill with tears of regret and my head turns away from you. I want to go on but I cannot, the words will not come, I have no explanation.

How did this happen?

Micah McIntyre
My fingers tighten around yours, starting to close into a fist as you huddle back in the corner. You’re broken, your guard gone, your focus turned inward. My teeth clench as my pulse quickens. My stance tightens without thought, shoulders tense, hips set, my cock swelling in my trunks as bloodlust surges through me. One step, one drive forward, and you’re down with no chance to recover. I can already feel it in my body, the follow through, the pressure, the finish.

There’s a part of me that wants it.

You were brutally punishing me minutes ago, bending me until something almost gave, forcing the air out of me while you talked about Silas like I owed him something. It mixes with everything that came before it, everything Cannon put in motion, everything that led me here. Taking you out now would devastate him. It would hurt all of them. My weight shifts a fraction closer, testing the line between holding and ending it. I hold right on that edge, close enough that it would only take a moment to cross it.

My hand squeezes yours tighter, bicep flexing, my other hand clenching into a fist. I could take you out right now, take it back… everything that was done to me not long ago. My body leans in, ready to pounce. Then I look down at you… tears in your eyes. I pull in a hard breath, holding it. NO. That’s what he would do. What he wanted me to do to that rookie years ago… break him in the middle of the ring… leave him wrecked just to prove a point, build my name off someone else’s body. I walked before it could happen. I cut him out completely

I look back down at you. You’re not reacting to me, barely noticing the tension building. Big bastard… built like you are… and still like this. What the fuck did he do to you to cause this?

Stepping in closer, leaning in as my torso presses up against yours. Your heart is pounding against my sweaty pecs, as my grip on your hand stays firm, but not threatening. I pull you in, my other arm wrapping around your back, locking you there. You’re shaking in my arms. “Dammit, Davis,” I growl as I bring my face close to yours. “I’m not Brakkus. Not even close.”

Tommy Davis
Your arm comes around me as you step closer still, part of me still expecting an attack but the fight is gone from me now.  The rage and darkness that took hold, took anything I had left in me when it departed.  I stand in your arms, shaking, my eyes closed as you tell me that you are not him.  Well he would not hold me like this so that is a no brainer.

Nodding against your neck as a sigh parts my lips.  “Yes, I know that…..now.   You know him though and well….I do not wish to talk about what happened. Not yet at least.”  My head lifts from your shoulder and I force a long, cleansing breath in through my nose and let it out slowly past my teeth.  Placing my free hand on your chest, I gently push you back a step and let my eyes find yours.

Eyes locked once more, but no aggression this time, no need to dominate, just thanks emanating from my clear eyes.  Clear of the twitching, the madness that was there before.  I let you see that I am calm once again, at least on the surface where it shows, but let my hand stay tangled with your own.  

Pushing off of the corner padding, allowing myself to stand at my full height once again, Looking down at you, my free hand comes off your chest and wipes the water that was on my cheeks, away.  A wry chuckle escapes me.  “Yes the brute can shed tears, every now and then.  I do not make it a habit though.  Bad for the image you know”  Trying to play it off as I try to force the memory of the surge of power and raw uninhibited rage that flooded me……...or the fact that I liked it so much.

“So what now, Mikey?”

Micah McIntyre
I keep my ground as you press out of the corner. Your heat still on me, sweat mixing between us. As you wipe the moisture from your face I look up at you, my sapphire eyes locking on yours, a faint grin breaking across my face. Impressive. You pull yourself back together quick, breathing settling, eyes clearing. You’re steady again, though not quite the same as before. The edge you had as you were tearing into me dampened, but clearly still dangerous. No, that hasn’t gone anywhere.

“Fuck, Tommy Boy.” My arms flex as I pull you back into me. “You came back from that quickly.” I chuckle. “Wasn’t that long ago your boy Silas had me fucked up like that. Took me a while to shake what he put me through. So you want to know ‘what’s next’?”

“First things first. About what happened to your boy Thorne…” I take a breath, choosing the line. “He came for me, and someone very close to me. And he didn’t come half way, he was sent to end me.” My eyes stay locked with yours, making sure you’re hearing me. “I didn’t start it, didn’t ask for it, and there was no way in hell I wasn’t going to let it go unanswered.”

My weight shifts, easing off some of the tension building in my shoulders, but also not dropping my guard. Our bodies close, the tension palpable. “I brought him back to you, didn’t dress things up. You saw what I brought back. That wasn’t a message. That was the end of it.”

My arms flex, keeping my hold on you tighter. “You want Brakkus?” My voice is quieter now, but with a hardness driving underneath it. “You think you know him. You don’t.” I keep my tone low and direct. “I know how he works. I know what he does to men who get in his way. You’ve felt it. So have I.”

“So if Silas is out…” I press myself more firmly against you, letting you feel the thickness of my bulge as it swells in my gear, as the wheels of revenge spin in my head, “then you have a void in your plan where he was. And, well, I’m here, and I can certainly sharpen the axe I have to grind with that asshole, Brakkus.”

“So, Tommy Boy,” I give my shoulders a shrug as the grin widens across my face, “what happens next is up to you.”

Tommy Davis
You express wonder about how fast I recovered from the episode and I smile, on the surface as the rest of me holds myself together as hard as I can.  You press into me and I feel your tension, still not gone after a part of me tried to break you (and almost succeeded I think).  I also feel your arousal and while I feel it too, as evidenced by the thick pipe in my custom compression shorts, I keep it under wraps for now as you mention Si.

“Bold move Mikey”  I think to myself.

My body tenses in your arms, tightens ready to answer the need for violence that begins to swell in my breast at the mention of what he was made to do to you. As you make me think about it and I try to figure how Cannon would have made him do it.  Maybe he is more like me than you care to think, boy.   I shake my head firmly and lock that voice back behind a newly constructed wall deep within.

Then you mention His name and I can feel that twisting forming once more behind my eyes and I lift my eyes to stare up at the shadows surrounding the bright pricks of light above us so that you do not see anything there.

Forcing my thick traps to relax first and then letting the wave of relaxation wash over the rest of me, not letting you feel the core of tension within, I let out a long sigh.

“Firstly, I admit I do not know Silas all that well yet, but we have common interests and I believe, common boundaries.  The problem is that Cannon has a way of twisting his words, injecting his venom into someone with them so that they think that what they are doing is the right thing.  I think that if Cannon veiled his words in tones of protecting me and what we are both after………well, who will not do anything to protect someone they care about.  You did it yourself by your own admission.”

Feeling the twisted thoughts receding as I force them down further behind the wall, I drop my gaze back to your own.  “We will consider that done.  I am not happy at any of it, but the person truly responsible will get his due in time.  I have plans for that but they will need time to get ready.  As to the other issue…”

I reach up and grip your shoulders to pull you away, not far, just far enough that I can stare down into your dangerously deep orbs, my own vision drilling into them.  “I KNOW Brakkus.  He and I have had run ins over the few years I have been in the game, the latter of them was, how to say it, was a real breaking point”

“I know Cannon has some issues with him too.  I am just a tool for his vengeance.  Sure I am going along with it as I get to get my own along the way.  I get to use these awesome facilities and the trainers that he can provide so, why not?  I am also learning other skills, other ways of doing things.”  

As I say this I pull you closer once more and my hand trails down your back as my thickened groin presses into your own.

Micah McIntyre
Your body settles against mine as you talk. There’s tension still there underneath it all, even while you force yourself back under control. My face grimaces as your hand presses into my back, still sore from the punishment you put it through, but the touch is different now. The thick pressure of your bulge grinding against my growing cock signals a different kind of contest building between us. My body responds before my mouth has a chance, abs tightening, chest lifting against yours as a seed of passion starts to build in my core.

“You keep saying you know Brakkus,” I murmur, my hand spreading wider across your back as I hold you close. “But what you really know is the version he wanted you to see.” My eyes stay locked intently on yours. “That’s how men like him work. Same with Cannon. They don’t just point you at a target and let you loose. They get inside your head first. Make you think every choice is yours while they keep tightening the leash.”

My hand tightens against your back as I step in closer, chest pressing firm against yours again. You’re solid heat under my hands, all that strength still wound tight beneath the calm you’re forcing over yourself, until in one moment, your breathing changes when I say Cannon’s name. I press into you a little firmer, calming you. Careful not to challenge you, but enough that there’s no ignoring the chemistry building between us now. Sweat still clings to both of us from the fight. Your chest rises against mine, thick and solid. Clearly, there’s still strength in you even after everything that just happened.

“You’re standing here telling me you’re using Cannon to get what you want,” I continue, my voice low. “Meanwhile he’s got you chasing Brakkus for him, fighting his battles, cleaning up his messes.” My fingers dig into the muscles of your thick back. “Need to be careful, Tommy Boy. Men like Cannon don’t build partnerships. They build dependencies.”

I exhale deep as my gaze drifts over your face, the tears gone now, replaced by something steadier. Strong jaw. Split lip. Eyes finally clear again. You’re still dangerous. Still big enough to fold most men in half without much effort. Standing this close, feeling you pressed against me like this, I understand exactly why Cannon would want someone like you under his control.
“But…” I add, my forehead brushing yours as I lean in, “I also know what it feels like to wake up one day and realize somebody else has been steering parts of your life for a long damn time.” My hand slides higher between your shoulders, fingers dragging slowly across the thick muscle there. “Difference is, I walked away before Brakkus could finish turning me into one of his monsters.”

Another slow breath leaves me as I press even closer, my weight settling into you, eyes locked on yours as my grin returns, smaller this time but no less confident.

“Question is…” I murmur, still pressed close against you, “what are you gonna do when you finally decide Cannon’s doing the same thing?”

Tommy Davis

Our bodies press into each other as we each look for comfort in the other in the moment.  You, from the pain I caused you, me from the voices that still whisper in the darkness at the back of my mind, telling me to hurt you, that you will betray me, that this is all an act and you are waiting to drag me in front of Brakkus in chains.  

I lift my eyes back up to yours when you mention Cannon and proceed to try and question my motives in staying here.  A small smile crosses my lips as you ask me what I will do and I chuckle once more.  This one is not laced with darkness, pure and with actual humour behind it.

“You think I do not know that he is using me to get to Brakkus.  I am aware that he has his own agenda, that he thinks of me as ‘his property’ because of all that he has spent on me.”  I see your eyes looking around every few words, looking for cameras, not trusting that I know the layout of the entire security network here within the sanctum that Cannon has created.  Time for you to know that you can trust me…….and I need to try and trust once again.

A deep breath sucks in as my chest presses into the firm mounds of your own when you get closer, almost trying to comfort me still.  My palm moves up your back to grip your rounded delt and keep you still while our eyes lock once more, my own chestnut eyes, flecked with emerald, bore into your azure pools as I let the smile widen just a smidge.

“I am here being used by Cannon and in turn using him to become tougher, stronger, just more than I was.  However, it is not a cycle of who is using who at any given moment.  For the last few months, whilst Si was off doing whatever Cannon made him agree to do”  …I’m still not letting you place the blame wholly on his shoulders...  “I have been finding out what I can, learning his techniques, getting myself known by his men.  I know more about the systems here than most.  I see you looking around, wondering what he hears and sees in here.   Nothing!”

“When he has people in here to watch his latest brutal fantasy, he has drones that record the action and then he sells it to the people that pay big money to watch that kind of action.  Heck, I've been in a couple of those myself. Otherwise this is where he brings people to……..remind them who is in charge.  Do not mistake his business suit for weakness.  He is strong and I have seen him in action myself.  He is very good at what he does.   I am working on making myself ready, not just for Brakkus, but to take down Cannon.”

I lean down and press my sweat slicked forehead to your own,  then lean a little closer so that my nose brushes yours and my breath mingles with your own adding, warm air tickling both our lips, dangerously close.

“I know what he does, I was blind to it for so long and was just happy that such a powerful man had taken an interest in me and was making me bigger.  That ends soon.  He is off searching for Brakkus and a man called Stone.  He wants a big final showdown between myself, Erik Atlas and those two.  He will get that, but afterwards………well let’s just say you do not want to miss THAT show!”

Micah McIntyre
I can practically taste you on my lips as you lean in. Our sweat soaked foreheads graze while your hand on my back pulls me even closer. You share your plans for Brakkus, his buddy Stone, and your ‘mentor’ Cannon…all of it. I let it sink in for a moment. The change in you. Confidence returning. The rage you took out on me and the breakdown that followed slowly fading. You’re a dangerous man, Davis. You talk about revenge like you’re already ready to take it while the fire builds inside you. It’s there in your breath, the press of your muscle against mine. You pull me even closer, testing. Are you wondering if I’m going to back down?

You clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with.

My hand snaps up from the middle of your back to your jaw, fingers digging in firm as I drive your thick body back into the corner turnbuckles. The ring post rattles behind you from the force of it while my thigh forces its way between yours, pressing up and grinding against the meat of your thick bulge. I pin you there chest to chest, my breath hitting your hot, rough lips. My cock hangs hard and heavy in my gear as it presses against yours. There’s nowhere for either of us to pull away now.
“Careful, Tommy Boy,” I murmur against your mouth, my grip tightening along your jaw as I pin you harder into the corner. My quad presses harder against you, forcing your legs wider while I crowd deeper into your space. My trimmed pecs press against yours, our nips grazing every time either of us breathes. “I’m starting to think I like you better when you’re not trying to bend me in half.”

My other hand slides lower along your side, fingers spreading over your abs before dragging across the hard line of your hip. Every inch of you still feels hot from the fight, thick muscle shifting under my hand as I hold you there and grind against you with slow, deliberate pressure. There’s strength in you, the same power that had me folded over your knee minutes ago, the same body that almost tore me apart before pulling me in close instead.

My fingers dig tighter against your jaw as I hold you pinned there, the heat between us finally reaching its breaking point. Your breath stays heavy against my mouth, pressing back against me instead of retreating. My last ounce of restraint dissolves in an instant.

“Fuck it,” I growl.

I kiss you. Hard.

My mouth crashes into yours with all the tension that’s been building since the second you dragged me into this ring. Massive bodies pressed together, grinding hard against each other while my hand stays locked against your jaw, holding you there while I take what I want from you. Your breath catches against mine as I force myself harder into you, thigh wedged between yours, the strength in your body answering mine instead of fighting it.

Tommy Davis

“SHIT!”  Your hand grabs my jaw as you push me back into the corner.  My wide back slamming into the padded post and the panic starts to rise as does the dark voice that was prevalent not so long ago.  See, I told you he was mine.  Now you will find out what happens boy.  The edges of my vision begin to darken, like night closing in around the end of the daylight.   “NO!.  I trusted him!”

My hand snaps up from your side and grabs your wrist, my thick fingers digging into the joint, not to the point of pain just yet, but a warning that I am not done, not ready to quit just yet, that the fight is still very much in this dog…..

Your words bely the grip on my jaw, even as it tightens, your digits digging into the flesh as I get pushed further into the dense pads and your thigh shoves between my own, forcing my powerful legs apart as I start to feel the tension building once more, but this is a different heat.   Nothing aggressive, well except both of our very obvious needs.   

The firmness in both of our shorts, grinding, needing release and for flesh to touch flesh.  The grip I had on your wrist shifts down the ridges of your muscled forearm, my grip there tightens as my fingers dig into your obliques on the other side.  My feet shift and plant as I tense my body and use my grip to lift you slightly, turning on the spot and then pushing you back into the corner. 

My lips never once break contact as a sheen of sweat begins to build once more as the temperature between ratchets up a few notches.  Our nipples rubbing as our shaven chests heave between us.  The hand on your lower back slowly traces up under your armpit, over rounded deltoid, sliding then over your tricep.  Barely grazing the skin, the touch leaves fiery lines of desire in its wake as my tongue grapples with your own in our mouths.

Breaking the intense kiss, hot breath panting against your lips, I smile.  “I think I might like you better when you are not draped over my knee moaning in pain………Maybe…….”

Releasing your arms, but keeping my entire massive upper body pressed into your, my fingers now tease their way down to your hips, thumbs slowly hook into the waistband of your shorts.   “So, shall we call this a truce, or do I go back to breaking you in two, lil Mikey?”  A laugh breaks out of my throat, genuine and free of any kind of tension.

Micah McIntyre
Your massive body presses into mine as you pin me back into the corner.  The heat rolls off you in waves while your thumbs hook deeper into the waistband of my shorts. My chest rises hard against yours, my blood engorged nips scraping across your pecs every time either of us breathes. The grin that spreads across your face after that crack about breaking me in two only makes my pulse race faster. You reversed me clean, took the pressure I put on you and turned it right back around without losing a second of the heat building between us. Fucking dangerous. Fucking hot.

Slowly, I slide my hands down your sides, palms dragging over thick lats and the hard ridges of your waist before hooking around your hips. I pull you tighter into me instead of trying to break free out of the corner.  My glutes flex as I grind back against the thick muscular shaft straining inside your shorts while I hold your eyes. There’s no hint of panic in me now. No hesitation either. Just heat and adrenaline as your huge body crowds into mine while your breath washes across my lips.

“Truce sounds smart,” I murmur, my lips brushing yours again before I drag them along the edge of your jaw, letting my tongue drag up the angle of your jaw, teeth nibbling on your ear, as I whisper, “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying to end up on top of you eventually.”

My fingers tighten against your hips as I press harder into you.  My cock throbbing in my trunks, letting you feel exactly what this is doing to me. Your body answers immediately, as your thick quads tighten around mine while the grip in my waistband grows more possessive. Every touch between us feels loaded now. Your hand slides lower. My chest flexes against yours. The slow grind of thick muscle and sweat slick skin pressing together pushes the power struggle between us into a different kind of battle.

“And you’re gonna need me, Tommy Boy,” I continue, voice lower now as my mouth drifts back near yours again. “You want Brakkus, you don’t go charging at him blind with Cannon whispering in your ear. You need somebody who knows how that bastard thinks.” My hand slips around to your lower back, fingers sliding under your waistband, and into the sweaty crack between your thick, muscular glutes.  I pull you into another hard grind against me. “And Cannon?” I grin against your lips. “Trust me. I’ve got plenty of reasons to enjoy watching that suit wearing prick lose everything.”

The heat between us spikes. The catalyst forces our past trauma, need for revenge, and raw physical attraction to twist together until it’s impossible to separate one from the other. My fingers hook tighter into your ass while I hold you there against me, chest heaving, eyes locked on yours.

“So yeah,” I murmur softly, grin flashing again as my mouth brushes yours one more time, “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a truce.”

Tommy Davis

Sweat slicks the two of us now, not from exertion but sexual tension.  The temperature around us is climbing and I can imagine the shimmer around us in the air with the heat rising to all new heights.  Your hands slide down my sides, nails scraping oh so slightly and igniting strips of fire that makes my groin throb against yours.

Your thick meat presses into mine, striving to thicken and grow to match my own length and girth.  My glutes flex, causing the shaft to pulse and the front of my compression shorts becomes wetter as copious amounts of pre juice ooze out.  Your own skimpy clothing is saturated with sweat and sexual fluid allowing our members to slip over the other with ease.

You speak of Him but the voice fails to make an appearance this time.  Your words allaying any fears that were suffusing my subconscious as your smirk matches the one I feel plastered on my visage.  Your lips trace my jawline causing me to shudder with barely suppressed desire and my tongue flicks out to slide over your ginger beard and as I draw it back into my mouth to taste you.  Testosterone and sweat, all masculine which makes my hands on your waistband flex and draw your shorts down just a little more.

“Truce it is then, little Mikey.  I wonder if there is a way that we could seal this new brotherhood between us?”  My eyebrows twitch up and down suggestively as my smile widens.  I use my bulk to press you back into the padding just a little more, sinking you into it as my pecs slide over yours and our sensitive nipples graze over each other.  A low moan escapes my lips before I lean across and capture yours in mine and my long tongue pushes past the gates of your lips and invades the inner walls of your mouth.

The kiss ramps up and my quads tighten around your legs, holding you between them.  So tight are we pressed together that our ab ridges rub and grate between us.  Our breath is stolen in the brazen kiss as one of my hands scrapes the finger tips up your muscled back and then around your neck to grip your thick neck and hold you in place.  Gripping you tight but not enough to cause pain now.  This is about something else now.

Micah McIntyre

Your massive body traps me against the corner as your kiss turns rougher, hungrier, your tongue pushing deeper into my mouth as your fingers dig into the thick sinew of my back. My heart pounds hard, I feel it against your thick pecs as they press into mine. Heat rolls between us in waves now, sweat slick skin dragging across skin every time our bodies grind together. My chest flexes hard against yours, abs tightening as your quads clamp around my legs and keep me pinned there beneath all that muscle.

A hungry growl escapes my throat when your fingers scrape up my back again. My body answers yours on instinct. No thought about it anymore. Just desire. Fingers digging harder into your hips while my swollen manhood grinds hard against yours. My lips part, greedily accepting your tongue, the metallic taste of blood from your split lip coating my tongue as it explores deep into your mouth. As you press down on the waistband of my trunks, my glutes relax letting them slide down over my pale ass, and drop to my ankles. My thumbs curl under the waistband of your crimson trunks.  Thumbnail, scraping across your shaved pubes as I slowly return the favor and work your trunks down. Your cock springs to full erection as it is freed from the constraints of the sweaty lycra.  I press my thick 9 inches against yours, flexing my glutes as I step out of my trunks, kicking them aside, grinding and pressing my body into yours.  Our cocks throbbing against each other as my grip on your hips tightens even more. 

Your mouth finally breaks from mine long enough for both of us to drag air back into our lungs. Hot breath flows against my lips, our chests heaving, your grip tight against my back while my fingers stay dug into the hard muscle of your glutes. “Brotherhood, huh?” I murmur, lips brushing yours again before I bite lightly at your lower lip. “Careful throwing words around like that, Tommy Boy.” My grin flashes quick across my face while I hold your eyes. “Might start sounding like you want to keep me around.”

I roll my hips harder into yours again, my shaft throbbing, leaking against you, our pre and sweat mixing, allowing the battle between our cocks build between as my forehead presses against yours once more. “Then again…” My voice drops lower, roughened by the kiss and the heat between us. “Guess there are worse people to have watching your back when you give Brakkus and Cannon exactly what those shit stains deserve.”

Tommy Davis
Our lips linger so close, the breath escaping our lungs mixes causing the heat between us to rise even further.  A shift of my head brushes them against each other and causes me to wince ever so slightly as my split lip pulls again, reminding me once more of the struggle it took to get to this moment.  I trace my calloused palm down your back and press ever so slightly into the lumbar and as you gasp, my lips part further in a chuckle.

“It seems my allies are growing as time goes on” My voice gravelly with repressed pain, lust and the lingering shadow that remains at the edges of my consciousness.  “I can also think of other parts that I would not mind ‘watching’ right now?”  My low, husky laugh deepens further before my chin juts forward, my lips part and I rake my teeth along your bottom lip, before pressing into them with a kiss driven by need…..the need to take, the need to meld with you in sweaty concourse, and the need to dominate you still.

Long, heated moments pass as our bodies push and grind into each other.  The sweat we are producing turns this into an erotic slip and slide as the thick members between us glide alongside each other, my 10.5 inches is almost painfully erect, the foreskin pulled back fully making the head look red and angry.  If sound escaped this room, people walking past would surely hear the smacking of wet bodies into each other, our lewd moans, only slightly muffled in the kiss.

Panting, I break the tussle of our mouths and my own smirks down at you.  “So, shall we say that I was going to break you and take the win?  Cause, you know, you were so close to those words coming out of these luscious lips”  I lean in and brush said lips over each other.  “And so saying that, I think we both know what comes next, right?  But rather than me taking what I want, you can just give it to me like a good little boy.”

My eyes flash with mischief as the hand on your lower back comes up to plant on your heavy shoulder.  Applying just a little pressure to make my meaning clear……..

Micah McIntyre
Your thick hard shaft presses into my slick tense abs.  There’s lust and desire in your voice, power in your presence.  Your eyes glint as your fingers dig into the curve of my spine, pulling me even closer.  As your teeth dig into my lip, I let out another low groan, exhaling deeply, while sweat drips from my beard down onto your heaving pecs. You play your hand, thinking I would just give myself to you because you think you earned the win. My instinct is to fight back, challenge your arrogance in this moment. I could turn on the charm, catch you off guard, put you back on your heels and turn us in the corner again, just to show you that you’re not the only one here that knows how to master this game. 

But I don’t. 

My fingers dig in firm into your hips, glutes flexing as I grind slowly against you.  My tongue slides deep into your mouth again, giving you a taste of what I’m about to offer, before I pull my head back. My sapphire blue eyes staring deep into yours as the corner of my mouth pulls up into my trademark smirk.  “You want a truce, Tommy Boy?”  I grind my sweaty pecs against yours, erect nips grazing against each other as I plant another deep kiss on your lips. “Brotherhood?”  I exhale deep as my hands slide down to your thick glutes, fingers digging in and massaging them.  My voice hoarse, breath heavy from all we have already put each other through tonight.  Reaching back, I grab your wrists and slowly slide your hands down to my flexing glutes, my eyes intent on yours. “You want that??”  I grin.  

“Yes, Davis. I’ll give you all of me…but on my terms.”  My smirk breaks into a devilish grin as I bare my teeth and dig them firmly into the side of your neck, feeling the pulse of your carotid against my tongue. Your chest rumbles as my teeth dig in.  I pull off and look you dead in the eyes.  “But hear me real clear. When you go after Brakkus again… when Stone ends up in your sights… when Cannon’s whole rotten setup finally starts burning down around him…”  My body grinds hard against yours again. My cock throbbing against your abs.  “I want to see Brakkus fall. I want Cannon watching everything he built come apart around him.” My eyes stay locked on yours. “And I want to be standing beside you when it happens.”

Tommy Davis

Your hands on my wrists manipulate my hands down towards your arse, and I let you, not resisting as I see the devilish look in those deep blues.  I flex my thick fingers and grab a cheek in each hand, firm enough to let you know I mean to have what is on offer, holding my crushing power in check as my swollen rod pumps another thick batch of clear fluid that mixes with the sweat running down your ridged abdominals like a river rushing over stones.

Your teeth clamp down on my neck and for a moment the darkness swells at the edge of my vision, the voice that accompanies it rises too.    “See…….I told……”    My own internal voice screams at the void a simple “NO!” as I force myself to calm.  Then you release and my body slowly relaxes without me even realising that I had tensed up.

Then you speak of Brakkus and the demolition of Cannon’s operations and my body presses back into you.   Pecs grinding forward to press your back into the padding once more as my eyes sparkle with intent when they lock onto your gaze.

Leaning forward to capture your lips in a heated kiss once more, my tongue delving deep into the back of your mouth as the whole of my, kinda huge, body seeks to press yours through the padding.  Our hard cocks slipping and sliding over each other for a long moment before I pull back and smirk down at you once more.  

“Would that be a front row seat you are wanting to have then, or would you like to be a part of the destruction?”  I raise my left eyebrow up inquisitively.

Micah McIntyre
My abs roll against the hard pulse of your cock as you press me further back against the corner padding.  Holding your wrists tight as your calloused fingers dig into my flexing glutes.  I’m ready for what you’re offering, in so many ways.  I lean in and dig my teeth into your lower lip, needing to taste the blood that’s still oozing from the surface.  Briefly, there’s a tension in you. Muscles tighten, biceps squeezing into my lats. Instinctively, I ease my hold on you.  Giving up some space between us, eyes intent on yours, watching for a hint of the earlier darkness in you to surface again. 

The doubt is fleeting.  Evaporating from my mind when you press in. Heat and sweat mix with mine as your thick pecs press down against me.  Your head leans in and my mouth opens, accepting your kiss. You pull me even tighter, our bodies mashing against our thick, aching cocks.  Breaking the kiss, you look down at me, and my grin widens, eyes glinting as you lift your brow and acknowledge my offer. My voice heavy as I catch my breath.  “Seems you like what I’m offering up here, Tommy Boy.”  I lean in and tug at your lip again with my teeth.  “Good.  I guess that means I’m not the only one here who doesn’t quit until he gets exactly what he came for.”  

My hands slide forward to your hips, palms planting firmly as I slowly press you back, allowing for some space between us.  Giving myself enough room to work both my hands between us.  Fingers tracing up the ridges of your thick abs until my hands close around both of our fully erect cocks.  Hot and slick with sweat and precum, I press them against each other, and slowly start to stroke them both. Their impressive girth requires both my hands to take care of our needs.  Keeping a steady rhythm with each of my strokes, I hold your gaze, confident in how I’m handling you.  I lean down again, letting my tongue find the hot point under the angle of your jaw, then sliding it up across your full lips.  My mouth slides over to your ear and I start to chew lightly on the lobe, tongue darting in and out of the auricle. “You can handle Brakkus in the ring, Tommy Boy.  I know you can. Do I need a front row seat to see that?” I shake my head and smirk at you.  My glutes flex as I firmly stroke my clenched hands down to the base of both our thick shafts, fingers curling under our heavy aching balls.  “You’re going to want me to take care of the shit that he and Cannon will never see coming.”  

As I give you the answer you seek, my head slides down, pulsing temple pressing against your neck, as I bare my teeth and sink them into your trap.  A growl of ecstasy catches in your throat.  I press you back a bit more, and start to turn, releasing the grip of my teeth on your throat as I turn my back and press against you.  My pale, meaty glutes sliding across your thick, corded quads.  I reach up, grabbing the back of your shaved head and pull your face down to meet mine, as I press back and grind into you.  “I never give myself up like this lightly, Davis.  So be sure you know exactly what it is you’re asking for.  Because once I let you in, you get me at your side until we both have exactly what’s owed.” 

Tommy Davis

Your heavy glutes push back into my veined quads and you rear up against me until my fully engorged manhood nestles in the valley between them.  You ask if I am sure and my hand reaches around you to cup your jawline and I turn your head further so that you can see my face as I press my chin into your left trap.  The grin on my face says it all.

“So I get to tap your sweet arse and you will help me with Brakkus and Cannon……Hmmm, let me consider all the possibilities……Oh wait, come here Mikey!”  My own head turns now and my lips seal yours with a heated kiss, our tongues pressing into the other's mouth with reckless abandon.  I hold your jaw tight in my grip so that you cannot pull away, taking some control in this, now, joint venture.

The other calloused hand traces down your muscled side, feeling each cord and ridge along the way, teasing across your hip and for a moment cupping that firm arse of yours, before my thick, long fingers press alongside my shaft and pry your cheeks apart as they search for the entrance that I so crave right now.  

My fingers find it and slowly, carefully my index finger plays around the edge, softly and I chuckle into your mouth as your body shudders.  Slowly I tease back and forth around the tight ring, pressing into the entrance and getting to the edge of penetration before pulling back and circling once more, trying to drive you wild.

Breaking the kiss for a brief moment, I murmur, my breath hot against your lips, “Little Pig, Little Pig, let me come in.”  as my fingers finally shove inside you and begin to work towards that pleasure nub of a prostate.

Micah McIntyre

My neck strains as your hand closes around my chin and turns my face toward yours.  The grin on your face says it all. I have you. The man who just moments ago had me in one of the most painful holds I’ve ever been put through.  The man who can get me the access to take down the bastard nearly responsible for ending my life. It’s a gamble. You can snap at any instant.  Fuck, you just did. But as your heart pounds against my thick lats, your cock pressing between my eager glutes, I know this is right. The gleam in your eye, the smile. It’s genuine. You despise what happened to your lover, Thorne. Mention Brakkus or Cannon, and I see something in you that goes deeper.

My lips press to yours, returning your kiss deeply.  Slowly my glutes relax as your hands move across them, fingers sliding up against my wet, puckered hole, as your voice growls, “Come here…” I exhale deep.  I know I want this. More importantly, I know I want you.  There are still so many questions.  Sure, the desire to take down Brakkus is simple.  He’s never pretended to be anything other than what he is.  Brutal. Selfish. Cruel. You know exactly where you stand with a bastard like that.  Cannon’s different.  One prick comes at you through the front door.  The other convinces you to walk through that door yourself.  

A deep guttural groan gets caught in my throat as your fingers press deeper, passing inside me.  I flash back to everything that brought me here.  Hunter Productions, Tobias, Silas.  All the shit Cannon set in motion before I even knew the man existed. As the heat from your body envelops me, I realize…he’s been doing the same shit to you for a hell of a lot longer.  

I pull back from the kiss, my body twisting, ass pressing against you, head craning to look you in the eye.  “Brakkus is easy to hate, Tommy Boy.  Hell, half the men in this business would love to get a shot at him if they thought they could survive it.  But Cannon? Fuck.  Look at this place.  Look at what he has at his disposal.”

You tense when I mention his name.  James Cannon.  I can feel the pressure inside me change.  “Yeah…do you have it in you to take down the man who gave you all this? Do you realize that’s the same man who put a leash around your neck?”  My ring relaxes as I press down onto you, letting your fingers massage my prostate as my own cock hardens.  “Cause Tommy Boy, I ain’t no little pig.  I’m the fucking Big Bad Wolf.  And together, we’re going to huff…and puff…and blow this ever-lasting gobstopper of a house the hell down!

Tommy Davis

My fingers rub over your prostate as you talk, making you gasp each time I press a little harder.  I drag my fingernail across it at one point and your breath catches which causes a slight chuckle to burble free from my throat.

I listen as you speak and ask your questions.  I am pretty sure that I can take Brakkus down, with or without this one's help.   Cannon though, he is another story……..Well he was!  My lips turn upwards as you press me for answers, my eyes glinting as I press my finger in hard across the nub making you yelp out in pleasure.

“Lil Mikey, no……I should not make fun.  Micah, I have been in this tower now for a long while, and I make sure that the people in it, especially Cannon himself, just see me as a big dumb musclehead that likes to brawl and get his dick wet.   It is an image I work hard to perpetuate and have a lot of fun maintaining.  I mean look at me, who would ever think that I would want anything more than to train and get bigger and fight on huge shows for piles of money?”

I lean in closer, as my fingers slowly retract from your entrance and resume circling that wonderfully tight ring, my breath is hot as it ghosts over your ear, the words barely audible over your heavy breathing and yet I know you can hear each and every one of them.

“For the last while, since I realised there was something more going on here, something that was being hidden from all of us who have aligned themselves with Cannon, especially myself and Atlas, I have been poking around, asking discrete little questions and making enquiries that seem innocuous to the people I am asking them of.   There are other things that go deeper but I think, right now, it is time that I probed something else a little deeper, what do you say?”  

The bulbous head of my fully engorged phallic missile presses at your sphincter and with a long grunt that has my breath whistling past your ear, I push and feel the pop as it pushes into you.  Keeping up the pressure I get about 4 inches into you before your interior muscles try to resist.   

My thick, vein covered arms wrap around your torso now and I hold you in place as my quads tighten and my thickness keeps pushing deeper, your resistance being futile against my size and strength.   

“Oh that is so fucking good Micah……..Fuck you are going to be a regular in my bed if you stick around, for damn sure.   

Micah McIntyre

My body shudders as your fingers work deeper inside me, forcing my rock hard cock to pulse and leak pre from my slit as you confess your suspicions of the man who has bankrolled your rise in this circuit. Pressing my body back into your thick frame, my resolve solidifies as your tone changes. I came here looking for answers. A way into Cannon’s world. A course for retribution. Instead, I found the one man inside his empire who’s already turning against it. You’re more than a means to an end now. You’re the one thing Cannon never planned for.

A shallow gasp escapes from my throat as your fingers slide out of me. Still pressing against my moist ring. My sapphire eyes lock with your handsome brown orbs as my lips part, welcoming your warm tongue into my mouth. You kiss like a man who’s spent too long carrying everything alone.

I want this. I want you. 

“Yes, Davis,” my glutes flex then spread, letting your thick meat press up against me. “Fucking take me, already!” I growl at you as I break the kiss and press more firmly against you. Your pulsing head finds my puckering ring and presses though. A short howl escapes from my throat. Your girth stretches me, wider than I’ve felt in years. My cock pulses again as you push deeper. Pressing against my sex nut. ‘’YYYEEEEESSSSSSSSS,” I hiss.  Without restraint my hips thrust back against you, taking your full manhood deep into my canal. Arching back against you, heart racing, chest heaving. “Fuck me, Davis.” I growl. “Claim what you need to break free of all the demons that have been haunting you. Then leave them the hell here. You don’t owe them another damn day.”

Tommy Davis 

My thickness presses deeper into your chute, prying you wider and wider to allow my entire length to penetrate the depths of you. My round pecs press into your back, as my hands on your hips squeeze and slowly, but inexorably bending you over as you speak.

My chuckle is low and gravelly in your ear as my phallus thrusts across your nub.  “My demons are what drive me forward. They are at my back, nipping at my heels, urging me to get bigger, better, faster, stronger. I know them all by name and they answer my call. Why would I get rid of them?......”

The head of my shaft pushes against the deepest part of you as I rest for a moment, my breath hot against your neck before once more the low, almost menacing laugh utters forth and burrows words deeper into your being.

“After all, you have your own past whispering in your soul, yes?”  Without waiting for a response, my grip on your hips tightens and I lift you off the canvas enough to turn us, placing your head and chest over the turnbuckle to anchor you in place. 

I pull almost the entirety of my manhood out of you, and thrust it back in with brutal intensity. Savagely fucking your hole as my voice drops lower.  “You do not do what you did to Silas without something driving you on, pushing you to those levels of brutality.  I can almost feel the same drive, the same energy from you.”

The fucking picks up pace another notch as I hold you against the padding, your entire body is tensed, taking what I am dishing out, with no way of escape.  My hand traces calloused lines down your quads and then up your inner thigh, cupping your balls for a moment before my large hand wraps around your thick organ, using it as an anchor as I drive into you harder. 

Micah McIntyre
The weight of your body presses against me from all sides as your massive chest heaves against my thick spread lats.  Waves of pleasure ripple through me as your immense girth finds its way deeper and deeper inside me.  With each thrust, my own cock throbs and leaks, smacking up against my sweat soaked abs. My glutes flex as your rough hands squeeze into my hips, then slide up my back, bending me forward. Pushing back into you, your cock stretches me even further, while my hands grip the ropes, arms trembling as I fight to stay on my feet, so desperate to feel the power you're feeding me.  

Your breath is hot on the back of my neck, as you scowl, with each thrust validating the demons that drive you, and calling me out about my own.  “GGGAAAAHHHHHHH….FUUUCCKKKKK…YEEESSSSSSSSSSS, DAAVVVIIIISSSSSSSSSS!!” I howl as you drive in hard and deep. Your hand cupping my chin, arching me back, before you lift and drape my upper body over the corner buckles.  I bounce on the ropes slightly as you pull back from my bent over body…then without mercy  SLAMMMMMMM into me with a force I haven’t felt in ages.  The entire ring shudders.  You grab a handful of my ginger curls and pull my head back towards you as you breed me with a ferocity few have matched.  Pain shoots through my traps as your fingers dig into the meat of the thick muscle.  Your voice growling, “Silas…” I hear through my groans of pleasure.  So it comes back to that prick.  My muscles tense as my glutes clamp down around you.  “Yeah…suppose I have burdens I carry too,” I snarl as my hands grip the black cables of the ring ropes tighter.  The rocking of my hips and pelvis matching each of your thrusts with equal power and intensity.  Flashes of my time with Brakkus…the fights I’ve lived through…the pain inflicted on me by your bitch Thorne and boss Cannon.  Yeah…I got shit to work through.   But at this moment…I just need you, Tommy Davis.  You…me…together.  One.

My quads spread slightly as your other hand grazes across them, finding my pulsating, slick cock and full, heavy balls.  As your calloused hand closes around me, my jaw clenches.  You drive even harder into me. You’re still thinking about Silas…how I brought him back to you.  Fine.  But this isn’t about him anymore. You need this…need me…every bit as much as I need you. 

Tommy Davis 

My pistoning rod ploughs in and out of you, driven in part by the need to dominate this man that challenged me, the need to show him that alpha beast that he tried to bring to heel. Also driven by desire for this handsome fucker on the end of my girthy member, and the possibilities he brings for making Cannon pay for what he dragged me into.  

The fist gripping your ginger curls tightens as the lust, dominance, and even a little desire for power of my own has my already titanic thrusts driving deeper.

A whimper escapes your lips, bringing my focus back to the throbbing man beneath me.  My hand in your curls, as well as the other that was tight as a vice around your dripping cock, loosens and my lips curl in a wry smile.

“Sorry Micah buddy, got a little carried away there.” My words brush over your ear, hot with passion as I slow the pounding, intensity replaced by a pace that still drives it home, each thrust grinding along your pleasure node, but now the need for you to enjoy this as much as I am driving the show.

The fist in your hair releases and slides down the back of your neck and then around to your throat, caressing it before moving to your square jaw and using that to turn your head back to face me, my lips engulf yours in a heated kiss, tongue diving into the dark chasm of your mouth to grapple with your own.

Moans, and the slapping of my flesh against yours fill the darkness around us. A torrid show of sexual desire worthy of song and verse, if only anyone else were watching to compose it.

Micah McIntyre

The rhythm of my body matches yours. Chest heaving, sweat flying. Grunts of pleasure filling the room with each powerful thrust that fills me. My head cranks back as your fingers clamp around my ginger curls, while the heat of your breath on my skin drives my heart to pound harder than any workout ever has. You murmur an apology of a sorts as the ferocity of the moment changes. Your cock still deep inside me, now finding its target. Massaging my nut with precision as each of your movements fill with intention. 

There’s a change in you. You’re still dangerous, just not dangerous to me anymore. As your tempo shifts, waves of pleasure break over me. My heavy balls fill as the dull ache of need that has been building starts to crescendo. Pressure builds in my pulsating cock, tempered by your grip. Controlling me both inside and outside. Desire for you overwhelms me as your rough hand slides down my neck, playing at that sensitive spot just under my jawline. I let go of the ropes and turn towards you as you grasp my chin. Fuck…this beast is so damn handsome… 

Your lips lock with mine. Our tongues intertwine as we both hunger to consume each other in a deep and passionate kiss. I want you so fucking bad. Need you.  My hands reach up to grab the back of your slick shaved dome as my body twists, forcing my ass to slide off your thick shaft as I turn to face you. Pulling your head closer, my tongue slides deeper into your throat as I wrap my arms around your head and neck. My thick cock pressing between our sweat soaked abs as I pull myself up wrapping my legs around you, locking my ankles in the small of your back. 

My glutes spread as my ass hovers over your slick, dripping erect shaft. Chest heaving, I break off from our hungry kiss. The corner of my mouth turns up as my trademark smirk breaks across my face. I didn’t come here expecting to trust you, but somewhere between our fight and this moment, that changed. Neither of us saw this coming. As I try to catch my breath, my eyes lock with yours. “Tommy, I have to ride that beast of yours,” I growl as I bare my teeth, sinking them into the side of your neck as I slam my ass down onto you. 

Tommy Davis 

As you turn to face me, your hands locked together behind my head, whilst my own reach down and grip your ass cheeks tightly. Our lips lock harder and the low, guttural moans issuing from us fill the darkness and resonate around us. 

You break the kiss, your hands shift to my rounded traps and squeeze hard, barely denting the hard muscle under the skin, and use my body as a climbing frame.  I lock my legs out and let them adjust to your added weight, my biceps bulging as they assist in the endeavor.  Thick thighs wrap around my midsection and your ankles lock behind me.  My eyes are fixed on that cocky ass smirk plastered across your handsome mug.

The breath hitches in my throat when your teeth dig into the same spot you were holding onto but moments before and you use your gripped thighs to shove yourself down, impaling yourself on the thick spike protruding from my groin. 

A pained expression, from the bite, turns to a lopsided grin.  Fingers splay over those pert rounded globes and I hitch you up to adjust my hold on you, my feet shifting on the canvas into a wider stance and then in a show of pure sexual power I lift you up, my dick sliding almost out of your pre lubed hole, until I lower you down.

Up and down, up and down.  Curling your whole weight over and over until my arms burn with lactic build up, and still I drive, lift you and slowly reset your body for the next rep.  My cock pulsing with each drop down and my bull balls begin to draw up towards my pelvis….

“Thanks, today was arms day and I almost missed it, kicking your arse all over” My voice harsh with the continued effort, but not giving up.

Micah McIntyre
My smirk breaks into a grin.  Then an all-out howl of pleasure as you hold me while my ass slides up and down on your pulsing massive shaft. Your hands dig deep into my muscled glutes, while my thick quads flex against you.  Your face buries into my sweat-soaked pectorals, pinned there by my tightening arms.

Our bodies press together, sandwiching my aching cock between our rock hard abs.  With each thrust my cock throbs and leaks precum between our sweaty abs.  My chin rests on your thick trap, as I work to keep my composure.  So much has changed in the short time since I arrived, and now I’m on the edge of solidifying an alliance with the man who was set to rip me apart limb from limb when I first showed up, forming a bond neither of us could have imagined when I walked through the door.

“Tommy…fuck, yes…TOMMY!!!!” I huff with a growl.  My tongue sliding against your ear.  “Gawwwwd dammmmmmm…” My arms clamp tighter around your head.  Cock pulsing between us.  I’m so fucking close, but I don’t want this to end...not yet.  “C’mon big man, haven’t you shown off enough? Why don’t you lean back…”  I look at you and grin.  “Take a load off and let me drive this bus for a bit?” 

Tommy Davis 

Your howl of pleasure makes my teeth bare in a feral snarl against your pumped chest, as my arms begin to falter, the battle and tension from before added to lifting you up and down on my throbbing member, leaving my biceps aching from the lactic build up. 

Quads, pumped full of blood from holding your weight as well as my own, bunch and I shuffle my feet to turn us around, placing my back against the padded turnbuckle and pressing into it, my chest reclining slightly allowing you to sit more on my shaft and taking the pressure off my arms.

I pull my face out of the chasm between your pecs, my grin still wide and toothy. Deep brown eyes flick over that handsome, bearded face, taking in the laugh lines, those pools of azure and the sheer look of ecstasy that is plastered across it.  This man that just minutes before I had trapped in a hold and was moaning in pain. There is moaning now, but of a different tone. 

“Enjoying this aren't you?  You want to take over for a while, you do that”. The exhaustion in my voice tempered with a trembling as I draw closer and closer to release.  “Oh fuck yea Micah. Ride this bull you sexy fucker you!  Fucking do it!”

Micah McIntyre
My hips start to roll in slow, deliberate waves, nothing like the frantic pace we'd been setting. Each grind presses your thick head deep against my prostate, holding it there as my inner muscles clench and release around your shaft in a rhythmic pulse that has your jaw clenching tight. I can feel every vein, every ridge of your cock as my canal massages you with purpose. My glutes flex and spread in alternating contractions, working you like a fist gripping and releasing, over and over. The slow burn builds in my pelvis, spreading through my core as my own cock throbs between our pressed abdominals, slick head grinding through the treasure trail of hair between your pecs. Between us, our breathing steadies into something almost synchronized, every movement measured, every reaction impossible to hide.

"Easy now, big man," I murmur against your ear, my tongue tracing the shell of it as my thighs squeeze your sides. My fingers find the back of your shaved head, pulling you into the crook of my neck where your hot breath sends shivers through me with every exhale. "You've been carrying all this on your own for a long time, haven't you?” You don’t answer.  You don’t have to. “Everybody sees the muscle. The guy Cannon points at when he wants the room to go quiet. Nobody bothers looking past that."

 
Another slow roll of my hips, my ring clamping tight at the base of your shaft before sliding up to just beneath your flared head, then working back down with agonizing patience. Your fingers dig crescents into my hips, and I reward the pressure with a deliberate squeeze of my canal that makes you grunt against my throat. “I walked in here tonight looking for a way to hurt the man who hurt me. Didn’t expect to find someone who already understood exactly what that feels like. You were looking for a way out long before I ever showed up. You just needed somebody to believe you can.”

In that instant, the tempo changes.  The slow rhythm disappears beneath a hunger neither of us can fight anymore. I crash my mouth against yours, swallowing the gasp that tears from your throat, my tongue plunging deep to duel with yours in a messy, desperate clash. My thighs burn as I drive my hips down with renewed force, taking you to the root and grinding my pelvis in tight circles that drag your throbbing head across every sensitive inch of my insides. The ring ropes creak under the strain of our shifting weight, the turnbuckle digging into your spine as I use the leverage to fuck myself onto you harder, faster. Sweat drips from my brow onto your face as I rest against you for the briefest moment. We don’t need another word. Somewhere between throwing punches and standing here now, we started trusting each other.  I exhale deeply and chuckle. “Guess neither of us expected tonight to end like this.”

Tommy Davis 

Your hole massages my cock buried deep like some kind of expert in shiatsu, drawing gasps and moans out of me with each slide and clench. At first my head rolls back on my bull neck, resting against the top of the corner padding, shaved dome dripping sweat down the thick leather padding as my cock lubricates your already slick chute with more pre juices.

As you pull my head into your neck and I start to breathe in your musk and nibble on your traps, my ears catch your words.  Listening as my body bucks and spasms with your attention, my mind whirling still at possibilities you are presenting. 

My head pulls out from the nape of your neck as my hand traces fire up your torso until I wrap my fist in your hair and pull your head back, my earthen orbs piercing your sky blues as I nod.

“It has been a lonely road. I have a mentor, but not sure how much he is relying on the snake. I had an ally who was sent away before plans could be forged.  And now here you are. Freshly hurt by someone the belly crawler sent after you.  Some would see schemes within schemes and see his face behind this ‘providence’”

I pause, almost listening to a voice that isn't there and I see your eyes fill with fear for a moment as your internal massage halts.  The moment lengthening before I let out a bark of laughter, tinged with cynicism.

“Your words and the power of your punches…” I rub my jaw with a grin as you begin your movements again. “make me believe you really want him taken down…….and I do need an ally that I can trust.”

Shaven dome rolls back against the leather padding once again as I look up into the dark,  a moan slips out before I whisper, roughly “And if you break my trust…….well, what I will do to you will be a precursor to what I have planned for Him”  No explanations needed as to who I mean as my head lifts off the padding to find your gaze once more, eyes burning with renewed intensity.

Micah McIntyre
Your fist twists in my hair and my scalp ignites with a sweet, sharp burn. The thick cords of my throat are exposed as you pull my head back. My canal clamps hard around you in reflex, forcing a shudder through your massive frame. Your warning hangs between us, raw and honest in a way that most threats aren't. I don't flinch. My eyes lock with yours as my lips curl into that familiar grin.  Whatever uncertainty you might have seen there a moment ago is gone. 

"Tommy." My voice comes out low, hoarse and raw from pleasure and the weight of what's passing between us. My hips resume their grinding roll, slow and deliberate, my walls working your shaft in waves that match the pace of my words. "If somebody sent me to play you, I'd be the worst plant in history. I walked in here determined and hotheaded. Angry enough to think throwing punches at a brick wall would fix something." A hard squeeze of my canal punctuates the admission, my thighs flexing against your waist as I pull myself down to the base of your cock and hold there, feeling you throb inside me. My rim contracts around your base in fluttering pulses, each one deliberate, each one pulling a fresh leak of pre from your slit that warms me from inside. "I don't know Cannon. Not the way you do. I know he nearly took my life, and I know I want the fucker to pay for it. That's the whole hand, big man."

My hands slide from your shoulders up the thick column of your neck, fingers tracing over the hard ridges of your traps before cupping the back of your shaved head. Pulling your face forward, I press your forehead to the center of my chest, wanting you to feel the pounding of my heart. My hips dip into a deeper rhythm, rising until just your fat head remains inside, my rim kissing that flared ridge before I sink back down with a slow rotation that corkscrews you into my depths. My canal contracts and clenches in layered waves, working from base to tip and back, milking you with a pressure that has your fingers digging fresh marks into my glutes. The slick sounds of our bodies echo through the empty room, that wet slide mixing with our breathing and the creak of the turnbuckle beneath your back.

"I'm a lot of things. Impulsive when I should be patient. Cocky when I should be listening." Another roll, tighter this time, my thighs trembling against your obliques while I pick up the pace. My cock drags through the sweat-slicked valley between our abs, the head catching on your navel before sliding up between your smooth granite pecs. "But I don't break my word. Not to anyone, and especially not to the man who's letting me ride him in a fight ring in the middle of the night." I pull back enough to look you in the eye, my grin softening into something less performed. "You need an ally you can trust” I hold your gaze for a long moment before my grin softens. “You're looking at him.” I lean in and kiss the side of your neck as my ass grinds down on you in rhythm with my breath. “And if that's not enough, if you need more than promises from a guy you just met, then let me earn it. Tell me what you need me to do.”

Tommy Davis 

My eyes flutter as you sink all the way down onto my steel hard shaft, feeling it grind over your prostate and delving deeper into your core. The slickness of your depths combined with the copious amounts of pre that you are eliciting from me make the job easier with each moment but then you clamp down with those, oh so talented arse muscles, causing me to moan out loudly. 

The moan ends in a deep belly laugh as you say about being impulsive and cocky when you should be otherwise. The humour of the moment buried alongside the waves of pleasure rolling from me like the sweat seeping from every pore, to trickle over the ridges of each muscle as they ripple and move to match your movements atop me.

Turning my head so that my ear is pressed into your chest, hearing that steady thumping of your heart, the rate raised in effort, but steady and sure in what you are saying. 

My head returns to centre, my forehead pressing into the top of your round pectorals as I kiss the valley between them, my tongue driving in to taste you once more as I lift my hips to meet your descending arse, driving in deeper and harder. I grunt as with each thrust my balls contract upwards,  the impending climax drawing ever closer, breathing growing ragged as only extraordinary effort or encroaching pleasure can cause.

“I believe you, or I have to at least.  You are a player he will not see until it is too late. And one that I can guarantee no-one but us will know about”  Looking up into your deep pools, my own flash with pleasure, and maybe just a touch of glee, the plans that are running through my mind, even as I draw ever nearer, show on my face.

“Now are you going to finish this so I can take you somewhere else private and really work on this sweet arse, or are you planning to sit there all night?”

Micah McIntyre

Your challenge lands like a gauntlet thrown and my grin spreads wide, teeth flashing in the dark. "Finish this?" I murmur, dragging my nails down the slabs of your chest hard enough to leave trails of pink across your skin. "You're the one about to blow, Tommy Boy. I can feel it. Every pulse of that fat cock inside me is getting shorter, thicker, more desperate." I punctuate the observation with a deliberate flex of my walls, a rolling squeeze that starts at your base and milks upward toward your leaking head. No one but us. Your words stick with me as a slow smile tugs at my mouth. Sneaky bastard. You’re already figuring out how to keep me off Cannon’s radar. My grin spreads even wider. "Now let me take you over the edge, big man. You’d better hold on tight!"

My hips shift into something relentless. Gone is the slow, grinding roll. I rise until your cockhead catches on my rim, suspended for a breathless second, then slam back down with my full weight behind it. The impact drives the air from my lungs and sends a jolt through both of us that makes the turnbuckle groan. Again. Faster. Each descent punches your shaft directly against my swollen prostate, and the pressure builds like a fist clenching and twisting deep in my core. My cock bounces between our torsos, smearing pre across your thick solid abs and your slick, heaving pec mounds, marking you with me while my thighs burn with the effort. The ring ropes shake as my fingers lock around them, on either side of your shoulders, using the leverage to fuck myself harder onto you. My ears fill with the wet slap of skin on skin ringing through the basement gym like a metronome keeping time to this moment between us.

The pressure crests without warning. You thrust deep inside me, spearing my prostate into spasm. My breath catches  and my vision whites out at the edges. My mouth opens but nothing comes except a ragged, broken moan that echoes off the mahogany paneled walls. Every muscle in my body locks rigid as my canal crushes down on your shaft. The grip is so sudden and so tight that I feel every vein, every ridge of you pulse inside me as my orgasm tears through my core. My cock jerks hard against your chest and the first thick rope of my seed launches across the sweat-slicked valley between your pecs, pooling in the hollow of your throat. The second catches your jaw, streaking up toward your ear. The last two bursts paint your lips and cheek in hot, white stripes while my hips stutter their rhythm, grinding in uncontrolled circles as each wave rips through me. My thighs clench tight around your waist as my fingers twist the ropes, unwilling to let go.

My walls keep working you through every aftershock, contracting in rapid flutters that drag along your length from root to tip. I feel you swell inside me, that telltale thickening of your shaft as your own climax becomes inevitable, and I clamp down with everything I have left. My spent cock twitches against your cum-covered chest, smearing my load between us as I lean forward and press my forehead to yours. My breath comes in broken gasps against your mouth, my eyes half-lidded and glassy. "That's it," I rasp, my canal milking you with a pressure I know you can't fight. "Give it to me." My lips brush yours, tasting myself on your chin, and my channel squeezes one final time. My forehead stays pressed to yours. “I’m right here. I’ve got you, Tommy. Don’t fight it.”

Tommy Davis
As your tunnel throbs around me, your words fade into the background.  Something about holding on.  I am barely doing that, so no need to tell me!!  As the last muscular contraction reaches the base of my shaft, I feel your hands leave my lats and the ropes under my arms vibrate as you grip onto them.  Lifting yourself up, slowly, achingly slowly until just the flared head of my cock is still encased in your gorgeous arse……then you drop and begin to really work my throbbing member.

The entire ring shakes as you thrust yourself up and down, the ropes thrumming with each time you drop down and my eyes roll backwards into my skull as the pleasure becomes almost too much.   Your moans increase and I hear them almost as a dual note, and then realise that my own cries are mingling with yours, echoing from the high ceiling and bouncing around the room.  The heavy slapping of your cheeks onto my thighs and balls adds a resonant tempo to the music that builds and builds…..

Your first shot hits my neck, then my jawline and then my face is painted with the viscous liquid you spray when your voice raises from a moan to a cry and your arse CLAMPS onto my rod.   

“FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!”  My own yell can probably be heard up in the penthouse suite if anyone had been there.  My engorged monster spasms wildly as I thrust it as deep as I can inside you, my hands coming off the ropes, leaving just your grip and my shoulder holding us up, finding your hips and holding you in position.  Each muscle in my massive form ripples and shakes as the orgasm that I have been holding back, denying, rips forth and paints your inner walls with a thick lining of my seed.

Each time another rope sprays into you, my body tenses and shakes, my face a mask of pure erotic pleasure, mouth wide, eyes closed and nostrils flared, delts, lats, biceps all picked out in stark relief as the lights above the ring play across the sweat pouring from me in this moment.  

I lose count of how many times I scream and curse out into the room, or how many shots of Davis’ Finest are pumped into your tight hole.  The moment stretches for what seems like hours and yet an instant, and suddenly I realise that my hands are digging into your hips with a grip of iron and I force myself to relax them, my eyes finding yours as they open slowly, “Hey, sorry about a few more bruises there lil man.   FUCK you know how to work that arse………PHEW”

A wry smile paints across my lips as my body now starts to relax and we sink slowly to the canvas, my back leaving sweaty streaks down the corner padding. “So errrrrrr, you feel better now?”  

Micah McIntyre
Your howl shakes the rafters as your cock detonates inside me. The first scalding burst hits my already oversensitized walls and triggers a second, smaller orgasm that I didn't know I had left. My body trembles on top of yours, as my spent cock twitches against your cum-soaked chest while my canal milks you through every pulse. Each thick rope that erupts paints my insides, claiming the territory I offered freely. My fingers clamp down on the ropes as your grip on my hips turns brutal. The pain threads through the pleasure and I groan, long and low, pressing my mouth to your shoulder to muffle the sound. Your entire frame bucks beneath me, every massive muscle locking and releasing in waves that I ride out with my thighs clamped tight around your waist. I've never felt anything like it. You stake your claim to me as a force of nature that has no way to hold back.

Your hands go slack and I move fast, locking my arms around your neck as your grip on my hips fails. My thighs squeezing you tight enough to keep us connected as your back slides down the turnbuckle. The canvas catches us with a dull thump, your sweaty shoulders leaving wet streaks on the padding. Cradling your skull against my chest holding you against me, my fingers trace through the damp stubble at the back of your head. Your cock softens inside me but I don't move, keeping you buried, keeping your warmth pooled inside me. I press my lips to your temple, then your forehead, then the corner of your mouth, tasting my own load still streaked across your face. "I got you," I murmur against your skin, my voice wrecked and raw. "I got you, big man."

Your apology about the bruises forces a breathless laugh from my chest. I lean back enough to look at you, my blue eyes bright with exhaustion and something sharper. Satisfaction. Accomplishment. "Do I feel better?" I repeat, grinding my hips in a slow circle that makes your softening cock drag against my sensitive walls. My breath catches but I push through, as my grin spreads. "You put me in a suspended surfboard that nearly dislocated my shoulders, then slammed me into one of the most painful backbreakers I’ve ever endured..." I lean in, my lips brushing yours, tasting salt and musk and me. "And then you fucked me so hard I might have forgot my own name." Another slow roll of my hips, more for the reaction it gets from you than any real need. "So yeah. I'd say I feel pretty fucking good right now, Mr. Davis."

I stare at you with my widening grin, then finally lift myself off you with a grunt. Your cock slips free followed by a warm trickle down my inner thigh that I don't bother to hide. I roll my shoulders, massage the bruises forming across my ribs and abdomen, wincing at the damage you've done.  Looking down at the mess of us. My cum dried on your chest and face. Your sweat pooled in every groove of muscle. The canvas beneath us, wrecked. I offer you my hand, standing over you naked and battered. "Much as I'd love to drag you upstairs to your penthouse suite and spend the rest of the night learning what else that body can do," I say, hauling you to your feet when you take my hand, "we should probably clean up before whoever mops this place shows up at six AM and starts asking questions." I pull you close, my free hand pressing flat against your heart. "We've got some talking to do.”

Tommy Davis 

Sat on the canvas, your arse still locked around my meaty missile, both of us panting heavily after our phenomenal orgasms.  Lifting my head from your chest wearily, my eyes lidded and heavy after the efforts pulled from me this time.  Facing inner demons I had thought conquered, realising that the man I hurt, might well become a pivotal ally in the downfall of Brakkus…..as well as Cannon's final comeuppance.

My eyes find your face and that shit eating grin is back in full effect. Your eyes sparkling once more with an almost glee-like quality as your arse clenches still around my, now softening, rod.  Infectious as the clap, your grin elicits one of my own, as your hips slowly rotate and then shift back and forth as if swilling the load inside your canal around, testing its strength and bouquet like some kind of cum sommelier.  Your words recall the events prior and I wince as the darkness that was present lifts its head a little until I shove it back down.

“Micah”  I laugh “Your name is Micah. Or Mikey as I prefer.”  A rueful glance replaces the grin for a moment.  “Yea I did kinda put you through it huh?  I would apologise, but I think you liked it as well so…..You are welcome, lil man.  As for the cleanup, don’t worry your pretty redhead about that.  This place is only cleaned by one guy and that is after he is told to.   He is also a…….friend……and will do it on the quiet as long as he gets what he needs.   And you yourself know now, how eager I am for THAT!”  Eyes sparkle brightly and my softened cock twitches a little before slipping free.   “As to the business we need to discuss. Yes we better do that before you go.  Something tells me that your arrival has been noted and that your leaving will be too.  And I have an idea about that for sure!”

Gripping your hands as you help me to my feet, swaying a moment until my centre of gravity reasserts.  “A good fuck will do that to you, right?”  My words ooze cocky sarcasm as I bend down to retrieve the gear that we discarded in a heap.  Then I step towards the ring edge, one hand still in yours as I slowly duck under the ropes and drop to the floor, holding out my hand to help you down, before leading you back to the walk-in closet of gear where we left our stuff.  Separating the trunks that you chose, I hand them over to you and then after a long moment, my face splitting wide as I do, hand over the shorts I had on also.

“Why don’t you take these with you?  One, so that Cannon will have no shred of proof we did this, I think he scans places for extraneous DNA sometimes so……..there is that.  And two, it gives you something to remember our little encounter by.   Just don’t wear them out sniffing them or anything.”  I turn, and slowly, achingly, begin to dress in my jeans, hoodie etc.  My eyes watching in an errant mirror as you do the same.  Taking in the whole package once more before we leave this place and have to hide the bond we have begun to forge.

Micah McIntyre
"Mikey?" I arch an eyebrow, rolling my frame up off the canvas with a grunt that I pretend is more annoyance than exhaustion. "Nobody's called me Mikey since I was twelve years old and kicking ass for it in the schoolyard." Catching your eye as I get to my feet, and let my  grin curl slow and sharp. "But you know what? From you, I'll allow it. Consider it a perk of our new relationship." Our hands clasp, and I pull you up to your feet. You sway a moment, that familiar lightheadedness hitting you when the adrenaline crashes and blood rushes back to where it belongs. I reach out and steady you with a palm flat on your lat. "Easy, big man," I murmur, my voice low. "Wouldn't want you cracking your skull on the floor after I went to all this trouble to get us to this point." 

You press back into my hand and steady yourself, then step through the ropes. Before I follow you out of the ring, I stretch my arms overhead, vertebrae popping in sequence down my spine, not bothering to hide the wince when my lats and obliques scream from the holds you put me through. My semi-hard cock swings heavy between my thighs as I step toward the ropes, still slick with both of us. You try to hide your glance, but the side eye you give me as you make your way to the closet is clear as day. Good. Look all you want, Davis.

I duck through the ropes and drop to the floor. The cool air hits my sweat-drenched skin and raises goosebumps across my arms, my chest, down the treasure trail of hair below my navel. I don't reach for a towel or cover up. Strutting just behind you toward the gear closet with my shoulders back and my chin up, I let the mess of us dry on my body like war paint. My cum on your head and neck. Your cum leaking down my inner thigh. Both of us marked. 

As we get to the closet, I catch the trunks you hold out and then the shorts, barking a laugh at your sniffing comment. "You're giving me the pair you marked with the best of you, and telling me not to enjoy the musk?" I lift the fabric to my nose without a shred of shame, inhaling deep enough that my eyes flutter half-shut. Sweat, blood, precum, and underneath it all, that distinctly sharp scent of you.

"Tommy, I'm going to sleep with these under my pillow." I fold both pairs into a neat bundle and tuck them under my arm, then reach for my own street clothes, dragging my jeans up my legs, commando. The denim catches on my cum-slicked thighs, and I have to work them up with a slow shimmy. Buttoning the jeans low on my hips, leaving the belt undone, and pulling my hoodie on, I look like I just got fucked in a fight ring at two in the morning.

"So let's talk exit strategy," I say, leaning my shoulder against the wall while you work your way into your hoodie. My arms cross over my chest, one ankle hooked behind the other, casual as a man discussing the weather instead of smuggling himself out of a building owned by the man he's plotting to destroy. "You said you had an idea for getting me out clean. I'm listening. Because whatever you're thinking, it needs to survive scrutiny. Cannon doesn't seem like the type to leave loose ends, and me walking out of here at this hour looking like I just went ten rounds with a freight train is going to raise questions from anyone with a pulse." 

Tommy Davis 

Your inhaling my scent has my head rolling back on my thick neck as laughter booms out.  “Wow, not even subtle about it, huh?  Am I going to need a security detail to sweep for cameras or maybe a ginger stud hiding under my bed, like some kind of musk crazed boogeyman?”  My eyes search yours and find not a trace of embarrassment as you raise them to your nostrils once more and huff deeply.  “Such a tart”

“Exit strategy, well I have a guy on the security feed crew who works magic with his fingers, on and off the keyboard, the things he can do……sorry, distracted somewhat.  He can change the timestamps on when you arrived and on any footage of you in the entrance lobby, the med bay etc, leading right up to us entering the conference room.  From there, I am sure there won't be any footage until we ‘leave the room in a while’.  He can give us say an hour for ‘talking’ and if when we get back there we mess the room up so that the injuries are explained and then I can escort you out, even have a team to back me up.”

I look you up and down, seeing the way you favour one side and keep reaching for a spot on your back.  Yea, definitely did a number on you but you survived and that is what I need. Other survivors.  “Can you really trust him though?” The voice within calls out but I still it with a thought.  I cannot do this alone. I need someone.  I had Silas, but he fell into Cannon's schemes and got hurt with no quick timeline for his recovery. I have not seen or heard from Atlas since my injuries were almost fully healed.  

This man, this warrior, survived an attack and turned it against his attacker. Sure that hurt Silas and that still stings, but he survived.  He thrived and even came into the beast's lair on the premise in a note.  “That's right, use him like Cannon uses you and Silas and all the others”.  

Shaking my head, I repress the voice once more as I look across at you, my hand lifts to plant softly on your lateral muscle.  “Are you sure you want to get involved here?  Sure you got hurt and want revenge, but something tells me things are going to get seriously messed up.  And even though I hurt you, and you hurt my friend, I like you.  You have honour, kinda, and I don't want you dragged through more shit, if it can be helped”

“So, last chance, you can walk away and let me battle the monsters that want me done and the one sponsoring me.  Or you can stay and fight but risk your future, hell maybe even your life.   I leave it up to you.”

Micah McIntyre
I don't flinch when your hand finds my lat, despite everything you put my back through tonight. I just let my eyes find yours and hold there. I see the war behind them. The voice you're fighting. The doubt that crawls up your spine given everything you’ve lived through under the control of the demon who owns this building. I recognize it because I carry my own version. We're both men who've survived things that should have finished us, and survival leaves scars that don't show on the skin.

Reaching up I plant my palm on the back of your neck, pulling you down until our foreheads touch. My grip is firm, unwavering, the kind of hold that says I'm not going anywhere. "You keep asking me if I'm sure," I say, my voice low and rough. "Like what just happened in that ring wasn't answer enough?" My thumb presses into the muscle at the base of your skull, working slow circles. "I came here tonight on a hunch and a prayer, Tommy. Thought I'd leave here with information. Maybe a few more bruises. Didn't expect to leave with an ally." My grin widens. "Sure as hell didn't expect us to fuck one into existence." I pull back just enough to watch your face, my blue eyes sharp. "Does that read like a man looking for the exit door?"

My free hand drops to your waistband and cups you through the denim, a firm deliberate grope of what's still substantial even soft. Your breath catches and I feel the twitch against my palm. "I'm not walking away," I murmur, squeezing once before letting go. "Not from Cannon. Not from Brakkus. Not from you." I press my body firmly into yours, exhaling deeply. "Now get your hoodie on and take me back to that conference room. We've got plans to firm up.”

Tommy Davis 

Your forehead against mine, breath mingling as you answer my question and then as you pull back, your ‘fuck one into existence’ line makes my entire body shake with mirth. A grin then becomes a smirk as your calloused palm runs over my groin causing an involuntary twitch.  I bring my hands up onto your shoulders and massage them for a long moment before gripping tightly and turning you to face the door leading out and slapping you firmly on the arse and shoving you at the door.   As you stumble a step forward I turn and depress the catch with my palm and the door to the walk in gear room slowly, silently slides shut before I follow after you.  

Slipping out of the ring room, making sure that the lights auto timer is set to turn off, I lead the way through the same maze of corridors we went through to get here and up to the conference room we started in.  As soon as we are about to enter the corridor that it is on, I shove you back as one of the security team that patrols the area stalks past, thankfully not looking at the doorway I am holding ajar to peek through.  “Damn, they are either looking for you or it is just that time.  Better get you into the room and get the plan started to get you out of here.

Pushing forward, slowly to the wide door of the conference area, we slip inside, and I key the locking mechanism.  As it clicks the windows on the outside shift so that anyone outside is unaware of who, or what is happening in this most secretive of spaces.  Nodding at you as the lights on the lock flash red three times I lead you to a seat.   “Ok so this place is secure right now.   We won't have too long before it becomes untenable for my guy on the security team to work his magic on the video feeds so lets make this quick.”  As you are seated I head to the chair at the end and slump into it, one hand reaches under the table and I fumble for a moment until you hear a whirring sound.

My hand comes back from under the large wooden frame with 2 devices in it.  Sliding one over the tabletop to you, my smile is gone,  and my tone turns serious.  “Here, it is a phone that has been encrypted to only send messages to the other device in my hand.  Told you I have been preparing.  This was for someone else, but……..”  I leave it there as my eyes look down towards where the med bay might be.  “You wanted in, so here you are.  The encryption is changed every few hours, or so my guy tells me so it will be super hard to crack.  We can stay in touch with these as needed but probably for important stuff over inane chit chat.”

My hand dips under the table once more and comes out with a thumb drive. My eyes focus on it as my fingers tremble, like they are holding something too precious to let go.  “This is a list of all the big money men that Cannon has.  This has taken me so long to gather. At so much danger of being found out………. And now I will give it to you.” 
As I hand it over, my eyes stay fixed on the little bit of plastic and wires, even as you hold it in your hand.  A low sigh shudders out of my mouth as I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I shake myself and gesture.  “Look around, the room has some dings and dents where we started our little ‘discussion’.  I can get you escorted out and that way our little tete a tete will be kept between us and the ring.  No-one needs to find out except when we spring the trap.   I know Cannon is hunting for your old mentor, Brakkus”  My eye twitches just once as I say the name, “Once he has found him, then the plan he has will be set in motion and anything we do will then have to come into play soon after that.  As to that, I have been speaking to some of his biggest investors, his big money earners and I find that a lot of his ‘dealings’ are not known to them. That is the info on the drive you are holding.  I figure once the big event that Cannon has planned is over, or even before it so that we can surprise him with them coming forward and ending his reign.   Heck, maybe as the architect of his demise, I get a piece of the action myself and take a place on the board here.”

I chuckle to myself at the thought of being in this room, actually discussing business in a suit and tie.   “So what do you think?”

Micah McIntyre

I take the phone first, turning it over in my fingers like a card shark checking the weight of a marked deck. Compact, matte black, no telltale branding. The kind of burner that whispers someone's been planning this for a while. I slide it into my back pocket without ceremony, then pick up the thumb drive. This one I hold up to the light, watching the tiny LED flicker like a heartbeat. "You've been busy," I say, my voice quiet. Not teasing or performing now.  Holding the sum total of another man's risk in my palm, understanding exactly what it cost to gather. Your fingers tremble when you let go. That tells me more about what this cost you than anything else you said tonight. My fist closes around the drive as I tuck it into my front pocket. Close to my body. Close to the parts of me that still ache from you. "This doesn't leave my sight until it's where it needs to be. You have my word on that."

I lean back in the chair, letting the leather creak beneath my weight, and study you across the table. Your hoodie's pulled up, shadow falling across your face, but I can still read the exhaustion in you. You've been carrying this alone. Silas was your partner in this and I took him out of the equation. Now you're handing the baton to the man who put him in the med bay. That takes balls. I don’t need to say it. You already know. "Your plan's solid, Tommy. The security footage angle, the investors on this drive, timing the reveal around Cannon's big event.  That's architecture, not hope. That's something I can work with." I drum my fingers on the tabletop, a slow steady rhythm. "But Cannon's just one piece of the puzzle. Brakkus is an entirely different beast. You may have taken him down once, but you need to know exactly what you're dealing with before you step into a ring with him again."

I lean forward, elbows on the table, my eyes locked on yours making sure I have your attention. My voice drops into something lower and deliberate. "Brakkus trained me. Took me in when I was new to this game and naive. All my youthful energy, he taught me how to channel it into something surgical. So when I tell you what he is, understand I'm not guessing. Every lesson he taught me came with bruises. The man's power is real. His tenacity is real. I've watched him absorb punishment that should have ended a fight.  He keeps coming forward like the concept of quitting hasn't occurred to him. His chin is granite, his hands are wrecking balls, and his gas tank doesn't empty the way a man his size should. You hit him clean and he eats it, nods at you, and makes you pay for the privilege."

My fingers trace a slow circle on the tabletop. "But that's not what makes him dangerous. Plenty of men are strong. Plenty can take a shot. What makes Brakkus lethal is up here." I tap my temple. "He's patient. He reads you in the first exchange, maybe two. He finds the crack in your foundation. It could be a bad knee, could be a tell in your footwork, could be something emotional he smells on you. And once he finds it, he doesn't deviate. He hammers that single weakness until it becomes the whole fight. Every combination sets it up, every clinch puts pressure on it, every scramble circles back to it." I pause, making sure you’re still with me. "Like a jaguar in the wild. It doesn't chase the whole herd. It watches. Finds the one that's favoring a leg, the one that's separated from the pack. Then it stalks, patient, silent, until the moment is perfect. And when it commits, it's already over. The kill was decided long before the teeth found the throat."

There’s a subtle change in you. Something moves behind your eyes when I say the word. A shadow, a memory, something that isn't about Brakkus at all. Your jaw tightens and your gaze drops for half a second to the table. I clock it, but I don't push. Whatever that jaguar stirs in you, you'll tell me when you're ready or you won't. Either way, my message has been received.

"His weakness, and he does have one, everyone does, is that his patience doubles as arrogance. He's so certain he's read you correctly that he stops adapting. He commits to the pattern he's built and rides it all the way to the finish, which means if you can feed him a false read early, make him think the crack is somewhere it isn't, you can bait him into overcommitting. Once he's locked onto what he thinks is your wound, he stops looking for the knife coming from a different angle." I lean back again, spreading my hands. "But that's a razor-thin margin. He'll figure out the misdirection eventually, and when he does, he adjusts mid-stream with a speed that shouldn't be possible for a man his size. You get one shot at the feint. Maybe two if he's distracted."

I stand, slow, my body reminding me of every hold you put through it tonight, and move around the table until I'm standing beside your chair. I drop a hand on your shoulder, fingers curling into the dense muscle of your trap. "You've given me the network, the comms, the money trail. I've given you the blueprint of the man who needs to pay for what he’s done to you. Seems like we’re both done keeping secrets." My thumb digs into a knot beneath your scapula and you exhale sharp through your teeth. "Now mess up this room like we actually had the fight Cannon's people think we had, and get me out of here before your security friend's window closes." I squeeze once, firm, then step back. "We'll firm up the rest over these. And Tommy Boy, when the time comes, I'll be the hammer neither man sees coming."

Tommy Davis

HE KNOWS

The voice screams inside my head as you talk about Brakkus and his technique.  My body stiffens for a nanosecond before I will myself to relax.  “No, he can’t know, I didn’t……Unless they tortured it out of him while they were hurting him.   FOCUS!”  My mind races as part of me listens to your words and catalogues them, some of it I had deduced anyway, but some……, the other spiralling down a now familiar path that will not help things.  My eyes dart once more as if to look through the floors to where he will still be lying, unconscious, healing from what has been done……..him and the tattoo on his shoulder!  You now move onto his weakness and your words stay level, no deviation as if testing me, no inflection to show you know more than you are letting on.  “Maybe he doesn’t know……should I tell him?”

Your hand on my shoulder, digging your thumb into a knot I did not know was there, bumps me back into the now fully and I sit, my head lowered, looking at the grains of wood in the dark table top.  I cannot bring myself to think that I have made a drastic error in handing you all the pieces I have uncovered.  I must push on with this now and let the shards of glass cut me as they fall or maybe, just maybe they will form a wonderful pattern that shows Cannon’s fall from grace.

“Silas…….”  My voice cracks as I begin to speak and I have to clear my throat before I continue.  “Silas, is Brakkus’ son.” 
My eyes look up to see that your calm pools of cerulean, now have a storm brewing behind them and I rush to explain in brevity.  “Cannon found out about him and set a trail that led to me as the one who really hurt the man who hurt him, his dad.  It was not apparent at first to me, but when I found out, I was going to use him as a tool to break the arsehole's will.  Now can you see another reason I was pissed that you hurt him.   Sure, Si and I made a connection, but that was an underlying factor in keeping him close.  Cannon didn’t like this and so he sent him after you and your company.   FUCK that man is even more devious that I thought, but……now we have this”  I reach up and put my hand on top of the one you planted on my trap.

“I realise that each day I get more and more like the forked tongued bastard but I cannot do what he has to you, to Silas……..to me.   I have to believe that there are lines I won’t cross.  And I need someone to believe that for me too. “  My shoulders sag and I take a heavy breath in.  “Now let’s get this fucking room trashed so we can get you out of here and get this started.”

Standing, I grab a chair and hurl it at a screen on the other side of the room, the sharp CRACK echoes around the room and if not for the sound proofing of the glass, I know it would be heard all along the corridor.  Slowly I turn and find your eyes once more.   “You are with me in this, yes?”  My voice and my eyes convey the hope that I have not lost you and cost myself everything in this crucial moment.

Micah McIntyre

The chair hits the screen and the crack reverberates through the room, but I don’t flinch. I’m still sitting where you left me, my hand empty where your shoulder used to be, trying to make sense of what you just said. Brakkus has a son. The words hit like a body shot I never saw coming, knocking everything I thought I knew about Johann sideways.

Brakkus trained me. I lived with him, shared his space, learned his methods, and knew his body. Not once in all that time did he mention a child. There was never a photograph hidden in a drawer or a careless word that suggested someone out there carried his blood. Then the jaguar tattoo flashes through my head. Silas wearing it across his shoulder in the HunterVerse while Tobias and I fought to survive him. Something about that bastard felt familiar then. The way he moved. The way he watched me before he struck. It was there and gone before I could grab hold of it, buried beneath the drugs, the pain and everything else happening around us. I had no reason to understand it then. Now I do.

“Silas is Brakkus’ son,” I repeat, my voice sounding flat even to me. I turn from the shattered screen and look directly at you. “Does Johann know?”

Whatever answer sits behind your eyes, the rest of it is already clear. Cannon found the connection and weaponized it. He steered Silas toward you as the man who hurt his father, then turned him loose on Hunter Productions when you and Silas started getting too close. You planned to use the same connection to break Brakkus, and now you’re standing in the wreckage of that choice asking whether you’ve become too much like Cannon to come back from it.

“You still want to know if I’m with you?” I grab one of the chairs you haven’t thrown and swing it into the mahogany wall. One arm splinters away on impact and clatters across the floor. “You just handed me the keys to Cannon’s empire and then told me the one thing that could blow apart whatever leverage you thought you had. That isn’t how a man acts when he’s planning to use me and toss me aside.”

I lift another chair and drive it into the edge of the conference table. The wood cracks and one side drops hard enough to send papers sliding across the floor. “Don’t mistake me for Silas’ fucking guardian angel. He came after Tobias and me, and I made damn sure he paid for it. I’m not apologizing for that.” I shove the broken chair away and meet your eyes across the ruined room. “But Cannon already used him once. You were ready to use him again. Whatever happens next, I’m not helping either one of you keep passing him around like ammunition.”

My gaze drops to the shattered glass scattered beneath the screen before returning to you. “No safety glass?” A short laugh slips out, but there isn’t much humor behind it. “Cheap bastard.”

I step closer, stopping on the opposite side of the damaged table. “You said you need somebody to believe there are lines you won’t cross.” My eyes stay locked on yours. “Fine. I believe you.” I plant both hands against the broken tabletop and lean toward you. “And if you ever start forgetting where those lines are, I’ll fucking remind you.”

I straighten, breathing hard as I look over the damage we’ve done to the room. “Now help me finish selling this fight and get me out of here before your man runs out of time.”

Tommy Davis 

“Does Johann know?” 

Your question sits in the air unanswered as I do not know myself, you stare at me expecting answers and when I do not answer you grab a chair and slam it into the wall and then another cracks the surface of the table as I stand letting the angry sounding words drift over my consciousness.  

“Use him for ammunition!” is like a slap to the face after my admission that I feel like I am becoming the same as Cannon. I stand stunned for a long moment as you slam your hands on the table and tell me that if I do become like him, you will remind me who I am!  My grin becomes feral and my own hands find the cracked wood and lean forward toward you. 

“Now that sounds like fun to me…….but thanks.  I need someone watching my back but also watching me in case the snake's poison has sunk deeper than I think.”  I feel my shoulders slump a little once again as I relax a little, my eyes drop to the glass around the shattered screens and it feels like I am looking at what remains of myself. Shattered under the pressure of trying to bring down a man who thinks 10 steps ahead of everyone, and yet, somehow, remain me.

My thick rounded shoulders shake suddenly with laughter when you tell me to hurry. A genuine laugh, no hint of anything behind it.  This newcomer, coming in after I have been slowly accruing knowledge, informants within the lair of the beast, has the audacity to tell me to hurry!! I slowly lift my gaze back to yours, my deep brown, earthen eyes filled with mirth.  “Hurry, you say?  Why of course I will. Your desire for speed shall lend wings to mine actions, lil Mikey.” 

My wide upper body shakes, the shelves of muscle bouncing as I turn and charge at the wall closest to me and slam my booted foot into the hard wood, splintering the mahogany panel.

As laughter begins to abate, I scan the room,surveying the damage and then look us up and down.  “Yea that looks about right.  Ok, so this is where we have to part ways and I am going to have to get rough with you, but not too bad. Gotta make it seem real and all.”

Stepping forward, my hand sits on your shoulder for a moment, I smile at you and then reach over your shoulder and pull your hood over your head.  “Wouldn't do for the cameras to pick up that face after all we are doing to keep you hidden.  I then turn you around and pull your left arm up behind your back. Hard enough to make your face react but you have felt my strength and I am sure you can tell when I am holding back.  Shoving you forward with me I quickly mutter,  “Sell this and we can begin to take this whole place down”

My free hand taps the door to open it as I push you down the corridor.  “Oi, who the fuck is on duty today? Got a fucking live one here!”  Shove you a little as I hear footsteps rushing towards us.  “Time for a show!” My voice whispers next to your ear.

Micah McIntyre

The hood drops over my eyes and the world narrows to shadows and peripheral light. Your hand closes around my wrist and wrenches my arm up between my shoulder blades, and I feel the difference immediately: the control in your grip, the measured force that says I could break this but I won't. My face twists anyway, selling the pain, and a grunt pushes through my teeth as you shove me forward through the door. The corridor air hits me cold after the stale heat of the trashed conference room and I let my head drop forward, chin to chest, face aimed at the floor where the cameras can't reach.

Footsteps. Security responding to the commotion like trained dogs hearing a whistle. I count them as they approach, two heavy tread patterns and a third lighter one trailing behind. Through the gap beneath the hood I can see boots. Black tactical boots, laced tight, stopping several steps ahead of us. "What the hell happened in there?" A voice, clipped and professional, but I can hear the edge of uncertainty underneath it. There’s enough hesitation in his voice to tell me he hasn’t decided whether I’m the threat or you are.

Your grip on my arm tightens, a signal, not a warning, and I lurch forward like the pressure point behind my shoulder is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. My free hand comes up instinctively, grabbing at the fabric of your hoodie, and I let my weight sag just enough to look like a man running on fumes and adrenaline rather than someone marching toward a planned exit.

There’s a brief pause before one set of boots shifts aside as your voice cuts across the corridor, loud enough to carry but pitched with that particular authority that says I own this situation and you're in my way of resolving it. Whatever they think of you, they know better than to challenge you outright.  The guards step aside. Not enthusiastically, but they step. One of them falls in behind us, maintaining some distance, close enough to react, far enough to show he's not sure whose side he should be on. Smart man. I keep my head down, letting the hood do its job, my breathing shallow and ragged like a man who's been worked over. The performance isn’t hard. My body still carries enough real damage from the private ring that playing the beaten man requires very little acting.

The elevator arrives with a soft chime that feels absurdly normal in the middle of all this. Your hand guides me by the arm, not yanking, steering. The kind of contact that says ‘I've got you’ hidden inside the kind of contact that looks like ‘I'm dragging a problem.’ We step in and I count three seconds before I feel the car move. Descending. The guard who followed us didn't get in, his footsteps retreating down the corridor as the doors closed. It's just you and me and the low hum of the cable above us. I don’t have to look up to know there’s a camera in the elevator ceiling watching every move we make. Keeping my chin down, shoulders curled inward, I assume the posture of a man who's been broken and is being disposed of. Your grip on my wrist shifts slightly, thumb pressing once against the inside of my forearm, letting me know you’re still with me. I lean back into you, barely perceptible, and that's enough. Our first successful deception. 

Tommy Davis 

The guards rush over and I recognise the two large booted men as the ones that were tasked with watching me after I had seen Si on the Hunterverse reel sent by Cannon.  The looks on their faces tell me that they recall what I can do and they stop short of grabbing you as my eyes level at them.  Shoving you forward, grip tight on your wrist, but not to the point of serious pain. Suddenly you sag in my grip, grasping my hoodie to hold you up and I barely manage to keep the worry that I shoved you too hard from my face.

“Well you need to move out of my fucking way so that I can throw him out…..so MOVE!”  Both of the guards step to the side as I force our way past them and I hear one of the big guards and the smaller guy, looked like a trainee or maybe an intern that heard the noise and wanted to see what happened, gasp as the familiar hiss of the door opening sounds behind us and they take in the devastation of the room we just vacated.  The second guard sticks with us, and as the elevator doors close, I see him reach for the comms device attached to his jacket, probably to warn the guards downstairs that I am coming and that I have a detainee with me. 

The elevator descends slowly and I hold you in such a way that your face is turned to the floor away from the camera in the ceiling and the one in the number pad too.  You push back into me and I feel the fingers of the hand I hold tap me and I force a feral grin onto my face. “That will teach you to bring my friend back all bust up like that. How does it feel huh? And I went fucking easy on you this time.”  My own fingers on your wrist taps you twice as the motion slows and then the doors open wide to reveal 6 guys, 3 on either side of the door, with taser guns drawn and pointed at us, not sure which as their gazes flicker back and forth between us.  Their looks range from ‘who the fuck is this?’, when they look at you and, ‘oh fuck do we have to deal with him again?’, when they see me.

One of them feels his jaw as he looks at me, must have caught him in my rage before. I give another bestial grin, all teeth and no humour, and chuckle as they all take a step back. Hauling you forwards, almost dragging you as you let your feet drag to aid the facade, we get to the revolving doors and as I get you through them, I tap your wrist again and this time I shove you forwards and release your wrist and watch as you fake a stagger and fall to the ground (hope it was fake anyway).

“Get the fuck out of here you dickhead. If I ever see you again after what you did.” My voice drops from a shout to a deeper, gravelly tone.  “I will fucking end you. Be thankful you are alive now, fucker.”  I stand, feet planted, fists clenched, selling this as best I can.

Micah McIntyre

The elevator doors open and I feel a rush of cool air from the expanse of the ornately decorated lobby. I keep my chin tucked, eyes down. Through the narrow gap beneath the hood I catch the edges of boots and polished shoes arranged in a formation that isn’t casual. Your hand tightens on my arm, and I feel the shift in your weight as you step forward into whatever’s waiting for us. Your voice fills the space, that low rumble I’ve come to recognize. I don’t need to see their faces to know what it’s doing to them. There’s hesitation in the way their feet move, the half-step retreats that tell me none of them wants to be the first one to challenge you. Your grip on my arm steers me forward and I let my feet drag, dead weight, breathing shallow and ragged. As we pass through the gap they’ve made, I let my shoulder brush against your arm, brief and deliberate. Just enough pressure to say I’m here and I’m listening without breaking the performance.

You push me through the revolving door, and the fresh air fills my lungs just before the shove hits me between the shoulder blades. I let it carry me forward, legs going slack, arms pinwheeling just enough to sell the stagger without catching myself. The pavement comes up fast and I hit it hands first, palms scraping concrete, the impact jarring through my wrists and up into my already battered shoulders. That part isn’t acting. I let myself sprawl, face turned toward the ground, the hood still covering everything above my chin. Your voice booms over me, all threat and fury. I flinch at the right moments, cowering like a man who believes every word. I know there are cameras trained all over the entrance to this fortress. Good. Let them record exactly what they expect to see. A beaten man thrown out like garbage. Nothing worth a second look.

I push myself up slowly, one hand on the ground, the other pressed against my ribs like something’s cracked in there. The limo is where I left it, idling at the curb, tinted windows catching the lights along the driveway. I stagger toward it with my shoulders hunched and head down. Every step is deliberate, unhurried but unsteady, my face aimed at the pavement until my hand finds the door handle.

The interior is cool, dark and silent. Sliding across the leather seat, I pull the door shut behind me, and immediately angle myself below the window line. Through the tinted glass I can see the building’s entrance, your silhouette still standing where you left me, fists clenched, feet planted. Selling it right to the end. I tap the partition and the car pulls away from the curb without any sudden burst of speed, just another vehicle leaving Cannon Towers. Your image shrinks in the side mirror until the building swallows you again.

Only when we’re several blocks clear do I sit up. My hand slips into my pocket and closes around the thumb drive. I roll it between my fingers, this tiny piece of plastic holding everything you risked yourself uncovering. Then my other hand finds the phone.

Silas is Johann’s son.

Jesus Christ.

I stare through the tinted window as the city slides past. Hours ago I walked into Cannon Towers alone, looking for answers and burning for somebody to pay for what was done to Tobias and me. I’m leaving with Cannon’s money trail in my pocket, a secure line back inside his own building and an ally I sure as hell didn’t expect to find. Somewhere behind me, Silas is lying in a med bay while Tommy Davis stands in Cannon’s lobby pretending he hates my guts.

I turn the thumb drive once more between my fingers.

Not what I expected when I parted ways with Tobias.

Not even close.

Tommy Davis 

I watch as you limp your way to the car and get into it slowly and then it pulls away.  “Fuck, this better work!”  I think as I turn on my heels and stalk back into the main foyer, the guards parting like so many guys legs when I am on the prowl. As I enter the warm air of the reception area, I turn to one of the guards that ‘greeted’ us at the elevator and grin at him as he backs up a step. “That little fucker was a waste of time. Barely put up a fight, fucking boring!”  A ghost of a smile parts his lips before his stoic, work face returns.  “Well I guess I better get myself off to bed and get up for training. You're gonna come spar with me, eh?” 

As he shakes his head emphatically, I chuckle and turn, waving over my shoulder at him sarcastically.  The elevator pings and I enter and hit the button for the 14th floor.  Keeping my eyes ahead as my mind races on the events of the last few hours. How I handed over everything I have collected to a man I met not 3 hours before. A man that hurt someone I am starting to care for 

……. ”Or am I?  Do I just think I care for him because of what he could maybe do for me in my quest to hurt Brakkus? Have I already become this much like Cannon?”

As I exit and head down the corridor towards my destination, a door marked ‘Security’, I consider the ramifications of what I am doing and it makes a chill run up and down my spine.  Realising how many people he has hurt makes it a little easier but the chills remain as I enter the room I was heading for. A sigh escapes me as I see my friend sitting at the desk and as he turns and sees the bruises I grin. “Yea, it has been an eventful few hours Karl.  I will tell you all about it but right now I need a favour.”  Stepping towards him, my hands place on his shoulders and I lean in close.  “The usual rate of payment will suffice, I hope.”

I raise both eyebrows suggestively and laugh as he blushes and nods.  “The guy in the hood that came with Silas, the time between him coming and going, needs to be an hour at best.  You can do that right?”  He nods as my fingers massage his delts and I lean in and kiss his forehead gently.  “You are the best and I will make it SO worth your while, you know it.” His blush deepens, making me smile wider as I turn and flex my rounded glutes at him as I leave.  “See you later, my boy.”

Leaving him to his work, my steps suddenly heavy and I step into the elevator once more and head down to the med bay. I need to see Silas before anything else and let him know, even in his unconscious state, that I am working on a solution and a way to get back at the fucker that got him into this.  The doors swoosh open and I step on the stark white floor that houses all of the medical stations, laboratories etc housed within the tower.  Heading down the all too familiar hallways until I stop outside the room that we dropped Si off in, not all that long back.  Heaving out a sigh, I step through the sliding doors.

Seeing him there, broken, beat, bruises still dark and somewhat fresh, I worry that I have handed my trump cards in this entire affair to a man capable of this.   “No, his hand was forced by Cannon, this is just another side effect of the virus that he spreads with each touch.  I need to stop him”   Slowly I reach out my hand and stroke the hair on Silas’ head, being careful with my large brutish hands not to press too hard and cause him any more hurt.

“Si, I know you probably can’t hear me but I am working on something to get us free of Brakkus, Cannon and all of this fuckery.  I wish you were awake right now so I could ask you some questions but…….”

Silas Thorne
There’s a presence I feel beside me. Fingers running through my hair.  There’s pain in every inch of my body. In spite of it, I force my eyes open. The light in the room is dim, but a large shape by my side comes into focus.  “Tommy?” A hoarse voice that sounds foreign to me comes from my throat. “That you?” His face comes into focus, so handsome, broad smile. “Am I back?  That fucker make good on his promise and bring me back to Cannon Towers?”  My breath catches. Pain shoots through my chest from the busted ribs I suffered at their hands. I look towards you. The look on your face, I can’t read it. My head is still so foggy. ‘Whatever he said I did, what they tried to make me admit to.  I got no fucking clue what they’re talkin about.”  My hand grasps tight around yours as I look to you for some kind of acknowledgement.

Tommy Davis 

As I am speaking Si moves and a gravelly croak issues forth. Then he asks if it's me and a smile splits my face as I lean in and cup his hand. Nodding as my own voice is stripped from me by emotions I had forgotten.  You tell me you don't know what happened and that you didn't do what Micah told me you had and my heart sinks. Had I given everything I had to some unknown, maybe even a plant by Cannon himself? Was he onto me?

Shaking my head, I shove those thoughts aside for the moment as your eyes bore into mine, looking for some answer.  “I know Si babe, you would never have done anything like that. Don't worry, he is gone and it is all dealt with.”

Or at least it fucking will be if Micah lied to me.

My eyes drift to the injuries that the medical staff have patched, stitched and taped up expertly. At least Cannon is good for something.  My smile fades for a moment but I plaster it back on quickly, hoping you didn't see the shift in your semi conscious and drugged state.  “You focus on healing Si. Let me focus on everything else.  I got this.”  My hand strokes ever so gently down across your cheek and as you wince I pull back “Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you babe. Are you up to answering some more questions?”

I watch you nod and as I am about to begin voicing the thoughts racing through my mind,  a man in a white coat steps into the room and exclaims loudly about how you should not be talking and shame on me for bothering you in your state.  He then rushes forward and grabs a syringe that is situated on a metal tray next to the bed and inserts it into the IV and injects the clear liquid.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I stand quickly, then my vision darts down to your form and I watch your eyes begin to close again, as you start to say something that is lost in a slur as you drop back into unconsciousness.  “What the fuck was that? Why did you do that you fucking moron?” 

I watch his face become as pale as the coat he is wearing and he stammers something about the patient needing rest to aid in healing, and that you should not be bothered for a while. All this as he backs out of the room with a haste born of fear. My teeth clamp together and grind as the rage, that seems to be just beneath the surface at all times currently, threatens to push forth once more.  My hand shakes as I stroke your hair once more before I storm out.

As my feet carry me away from your room, I find myself in need of hitting a heavy bag, HARD!  Stomping down 3 floors, I reach the large glass doors that lead into the amazing gym that the Tower boasts, a good chunk of the equipment that is within, has been bought for me.

As I enter, the cool air that perpetually circulates hits me as does the scent of sweat and hard work. I start to calm a little as the sounds of someone pounding the fuck out of one of the bags hits my ears and as I look across think to myself, “That sounds like one of my bags, the big ones made special for me.  Who the fuck can even move one of them?” Standing and watching for a while as this huge dude works the bag with quick, powerful combos, even adding kicks into the mix to really make the bag sway. His footwork around the bag is excellent, cutting in and out, always finding the angle to catch the bag on its return swing and stop it.  

Something strikes me as I watch this huge man at work.  His size, stature, his high and tight blonde hair.  Then one of his turns has him facing me and my mouth drops open in a silent “What?”  A long moment passes before the loud digital ring timer goes off and my brain finally allows words to pass my lips…..

“Coach?”

Erik Atlas
The drills. Combinations and foot work. Front kick lands and leads into three jabs at speed! Knee strike  flows into a shoulder check to set up the side step around and the left HOOK finisher. The last hit sends a shiver of sound through the room and the explosive exhale with it adds an edge of dragon breath to the hit.
Knee strike then spin to a final roundhouse kick swinging the 250# bag hard!

Sweat running off me hard. The electronic bell sounds and my hands come down. After Tiberius Stone tore me up, broke my insides, and outright humiliated me, I got put together at Cannon’s facility. Weighing in at 312, ripped to lean hard readiness. I will be taking down Stone soon.

I hear his voice. My head spins. It’s a slice of embarrassment. With all these mirrors in here, a guy as big as Tommy Davis should not be able to sneak up on me. The smile on my face is all surprise and pure joy.

Most guys I would towel off first before hugging, that can fuck off. I grab him, OH GAWD he’s huge now. His back is a thick rippling wall of power. The temptation to remark how big he was a mere 5 years ago passes and I just hang on hard for the pleasure. “Black eye? Dude… I know you like it rough, but can they fuck off with hurting your face for once?”

Tommy Davis

As the bigger man sees me and turns to face me, his face changes from aggression and focus to a smile that will light up any room.  Barely having time to brace before he is on me, his huge arms (think mine might be bigger now, but…….) wrap around me in a sweat soaked embrace that lifts me off my feet for a moment and elicits a grunt as it drives the air from my lungs briefly. 

Once my feet touch Terra Firma once more, I pull him into a quick hug before we part, my hands on those wonderful boulder shoulders that I have tried my best to emulate with my own growth.  My smile is wider than it has been in a while, filled with genuine surprise and wonder that the man I had thought to have disappeared after Stone and Brakkus left me for dead, is standing right here, getting my jacket wet with his sweat.  I will be using this later for other purposes.

“Hey what can I say, you know my tastes and they have not improved at all.   What the HECK are you doing here?   I thought you were gone!   How long have you been here?”  Forcing myself to stop before I let the rest of the questions that have been bubbling under the surface spew out of my mouth and let him have a chance to answer.

Erik Atlas
Indeed… What the heck am I doing here? “The bossman, Cannon, sent me to find you and get your ass ready.  He finally found those assholes who nearly took you out.  He has Brakkus and Stone, and lord knows what the fuck he’s putting them through.  The boss sent me back to get your gym ass sweaty and ready for battle. It’s time to set up the justice we’ve been waiting for. Guess that planetary alignment and virgin birth we’ve been waiting for finally is happening. I want Stone in the ring, under my boot, begging me for mercy, and I can’t imagine what you got planned for Brakkus.”

Punctuation. RIP! Velcro rips on my practice gloves, I pull off the left, RIP! Then the right. “I haven’t been complicated about this. Simple world. Stone. And I’d like my bike back sometime. He gave me a Polaris loaner. But I want the Indian back. I think it’s in storage here … somewhere.”

You see that my face is a poured concrete pillar of determination. “I owe everyone that redress. Including you.” Molars grind. I hate looking like a revenge-bent bitch in front of Tommy, but it’s fucking about time.  For both of us. 

Tommy Davis

My face changes the moment you mention that Cannon has finally got Brakkus and Stone under his thumb.  Joy turns to worry, fear and then forcibly back to joy.  He has them?  Fuck, we will need to work faster than I thought.  My eyes stay on your face as I listen to you, avidly not looking down at your slicked pecs.  Seeing you THIS focused has me even more on edge, you have always been playful, fun loving, even in those brief moments I remember from my healing in the medical bay, you always had a joke or a smartass remark to make.

My incredulity at you being here causes me to listen with only half my mind, and as I listen I feel myself processing a little more.   

IT'S TIME!  

My grin returns but this time tinged with a feral edge to it.  Here is someone I can trust implicitly.  Here is a solid state in the fluctuations of the Towers inner workings.  Here is someone I am about to go into battle beside, a dream I have had for the longest time, against foes of the highest level.

“Coach, Erik, you have nothing you owe me, I am the one with something that I owe you. We have so much to talk about and in a short space of time.  If he has those assholes then I’m sure he’s going to want us ready to take them down soon. I think we should start by heading to somewhere a little more private and we can discuss how I got this wonderful shiner, the man who gave it to me and his part in what is to come?  Sound good?”   

I place my hand on your sweat soaked lower back and pull you close to me.  “You have NO idea how good it is to see you, Coach.  Fuck, I have missed you.  Come along, much to do.”  Holding you close to me, I walk us out of the room and head towards a quiet room for a very frank discussion

Erik Atlas
I know I’m his coach, and there’s a professional distance I try to keep with the man. But hell… I grab his jaw and kiss my man Tommy Davis. It’s a monet of music I wanted for some time. He needs to know I love him. 

I grab a towel and we walk and set how this is really going to go.

Published: 12 days ago, viewed 100 times.