THE HIGH TABLE

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

The years of tradin messages and hypin each other up online had finally led to this moment. I got private after-hours access to the old downtown gym that still kept its small, battle-worn ring tucked in the back room. Thursday night, lights low, the place smellin faintly of sweat, rubber mats, and metal chains.

I arrived early, adrenaline already pumpin and changed fast into black square-cut trunks huggin my hips, black boots laced tight to mid-calf, the familiar creak of the ropes welcomin me as I ducked through. At 5'9" and 186 pounds, my hairy, heavily inked chest and arms gleamed under the single overhead bulb. I rolled my shoulders and stretched my quads against the turnbuckle, tryin to burn off the nervous energy. My cock was already strainin hard against the fabric at the thought of him walkin through that door, but I forced myself to breathe deep.

The door at the far end swung open, and there was the hot muscle stud I'd been fantasizin about destroyin (and gettin destroyed by) for way too long. His gear was simple but intimidatin. Navy trunks that clung to thick quads and a powerful ass, matchin boots, and wrist wraps. Sweat already startin to sheen on his lightly furred skin. He dropped his bag with a thud, eyes lockin on me across the ring like a predator sizin up prey. A slow, cocky grin spread across his face as he took in the sight of me waitin, flexed and ready, bulge obvious. "Finally," he rumbled, voice low and thick, carryin easily in the quiet gym. "Thought you'd chicken out."

I smirked back, "Been waitin years to shut that mouth of yours. Get yer ass in here."

He peeled off his tank top revealin a chest and arms that made my own look compact by comparison, then climbed the steps. The ring groaned under his weight as he stepped between the ropes, straightenin to full height. Up close now, the size difference felt real. His pecs rose and fell with controlled breaths, veins tracin down his forearms, every inch radiatin confidence.

We circled each other slowly in the center of the ring. Just two hard, horned-up fighters finally face to face. The air crackled as my heart hammered against my ribs, cock throbbing, but the competitive fire burned hotter. He raised his hands, fingers flexing, invitin the lock-up.

"Let's see if you fight as good as you talk, stud," he said, eyes gleamin.

I stepped in, palms slappin against his in a classic collar-and-elbow tie-up, bodies crashin together with a meaty smack. Muscle met muscle, heat against heat, and the private Thursday night war was on.

Micah McIntyre

The door to the back room creaks as I push it open, the low lights over the private ring throwing long shadows across the canvas. I step inside, gym bag slung over my shoulder, and there you are already waiting in the ring. I duck through the ropes and take a second to look you over, arms resting on the top strand as my eyes run across the thick ink and the wall of fur covering a body that looks like it’s been grinding through hard fights for a long damn time. “So you’re Dan Freyr-Sullivan,” I say with a crooked grin, stepping toward center ring and rolling my shoulders loose. “Funny… same circles all these years and we never actually locked up.” My gaze drops once over your stance, measuring the way you carry that 190 pounds like it’s used to throwing people around. I shrug lightly, bouncing once on the balls of my feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll start easy. Wouldn’t want to break the mystery the first minute we finally meet.” I lift a hand, fingers flexing in invitation. “Come on then. Let’s see if the legend travels as well as the ink.”

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I hear that low sexy voice and turn and flash a grin back. "And yer Micah McIntyre" I shoot back watchin ya as ya climb in the ring to join me...the lights overhead shinin down outlinin every muscle in that body of yers. Yeah Imma have my work cut out for me I can tell already. "Yeah, well guess we just needed to wait for the right time...and this is it, big guy." I grin, rollin my neck and shoulders. "Yeah I know I'm older than you but I think I can handle what ya got." I say with a hint of a challenge in my voice. I grin at yer "start easy" comment and answer, "Bring it...muscle boy." Our eyes locked as I come toward ya...I see that hand come up and I raise my opposite hand up...I CLASP my fingers into yer feelin em fold into each other and feel the power in that arm and know there's power in that whole body...I bring my other hand up...fingers flexin and open waitin for yer other hand to join it...my boots planted on the canvas.

Micah McIntyre

Your fingers slam into mine and lock tight, and I feel the dense strength packed into that forearm. The kind of power comes from years of grinding through holds and bodies in rings like this. A slow grin breaks across my face as my own hand clamps down harder, my bicep swelling as I curl into the grip and test the pressure. “Yeah… you might actually be fun,” I mutter under my breath, eyes narrowing slightly as the heat in the room starts to settle over my skin. Sweat begins to gather along my shoulders as I lift my other arm and thread my fingers into yours, palm slapping tight as the second grip locks in. I step closer without hesitation, chest nearly brushing yours, boots grinding into the canvas as my arms flex and tighten, shoulders bunching as I lean into you and accept the challenge. The rush hits instantly, muscle against muscle, grip against grip. My body answers on instinct, back tightening, pecs flexing, arms coiling as I start to drive power forward into the test of strength.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I see them biceps curlin...gotta appreciate muscle like that no matter who it is. I hear that backhanded compliment and smirk, "Yeah you too big boy," I mutter back...already startin to sweat which is just fine with me. Nothin hotter than two men grapplin and fightin and sweatin as they work each other hard. That second grip lockin into my hand and I feel the full power of those biceps now...definitely strong, hard, and powerful. Boots grindin into the canvas as we circle locked up like this. I flex my hairy arms hard, showing off some even though my muscles aren’t near as big as yers...they still serve me well. Our chests almost touchin. I see and feel yer body tightenin as I answer that and push in HARD, feelin ya power forward toward me, both breathin hard as our arms flex and push into each other. Takin a deep breath, I flex my arms as big and they'll go and SHOVE off with my boots into ya workin to see if I can move this mountain of muscle back and show ya the power I have.

Micah McIntyre

Your shove hits solid, boots digging into the canvas as that burst of power drives straight through our locked arms and into my chest. My grip tightens instinctively, fingers cinching deeper between yours as my forearms harden and my biceps swell under the strain. A quiet breath pushes through my teeth as I feel the strength behind that push. You may be older, but you're definitely not soft. For a split second my weight shifts, to absorb the power you're pressing in with. Sweat beads across my pecs now, sliding down the lines of muscle and dripping over my tight abs as the heat between us builds. But my boots stay planted. My shoulders roll forward, chest lifting as I push right back into you, muscles tightening from my back through my arms as I hold the line and refuse to give an inch. My crystal blue eyes lock onto yours, steady and challenging, the look alone daring you to bring every ounce of that strength you’ve got.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Gruntin as I use my boots to push INTO ya...muscles flexin tight on both of us...I see that sweat drippin down yer impressive body...but I’m not gonna be distracted by that...yer grip tightens in mine...I push in HARDER pullin air as I my arms flex tighter and harder...I feel yer weight shift and think "yeah...I’m gonna move this big man back and show him what I got" but then yer boots stay planted and it takes me a minute to realize that yer not movin...that fact proven as ya power back into me...pushin in hard...muscles flarin and flexin...yer heavier weight pushin into me and...uh oh...my boots start slidin as ya lock eyes with me...I gotta amp this up...I pull in some deep breaths then one boot in front and one behind me I PUSHHHHHHHHHHHH into ya as hard as I possibly can tryin to answer that call to force ya back.

Micah McIntyre

Your drive into me is everything you’ve got. Your boots scraping, shoulders bunching, arms trembling with the effort of trying to force me back. As the strength you bring builds, I answer with a low grunt, muscles along my arms and back tightening as the pressure stacks between us. Then your footing shifts. Just a fraction, but it’s there. My hands cinch tighter around yours and I lean into that moment, letting my weight settle through my hips and legs so the push runs straight through me instead of moving me. The air between us grows hot and heavy as our chests brush, both of us pulling hard breaths, and when you surge again I change the rhythm without warning, dragging you forward a half step as I step inside your space. Your balance breaks just enough. My arms dip, trapping yours low for an instant, and my knee snaps upward in a tight, brutal line toward your midsection, driving straight for your abs while my eyes stay locked on yours, steady and unblinking, daring you to answer it.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Usin every bit of power I can muster I POWER into ya...my boots scrapin...my whole body pushin in HARD...my smaller arms shakin as I work to try and PUSH into ya and push ya back. I hear that low grunt as I shift my feet and push IN and UP into ya...I’ve got to prove to this man that I can move him...our chests brush as we both pull in hard breaths...I move into ya as ya pull me in...yes...I’m about to move him I think...suddenly my balance breaks...yer arms dip and before I can ever realize the trouble I’m in...that knee snaps up fast...drivin straight into my hairy abs...UUUUUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF...drivin straight into my core...fuckkk...fuckkk...fuckkkk...still claspin yer hands as that knee drives in...breathin out fast as our chests come together...I have to do somethin before I fold up over that knee...I yank my right hand free and swing it in around and low aimin a hard knuckle punch to yer ribs as that knee sinks in deep.

Micah McIntyre

Your punch lands solid, those hard knuckles thudding into the side of my ribs. The impact forces a sharp grunt out of me as my torso twists with it. The shot stings, but I already feel the payoff of that knee buried in your core. Your body folds around it for a moment, the air blasting out of you, your grip still clinging to mine as your weight pitches forward. I roll with the punch instead of fighting it, turning my shoulder through the strike so it glances past the worst of my ribs, and that motion loads my other side like a spring. My arm snaps up immediately, elbow cocking tight as sweat flicks off my skin, and I drive it down in a brutal arc toward the back of your head and neck while you’re doubled over. The ring creaks under our shifting weight, breath loud between us now, the sparring match already turning into something far more intense than either of us pretended it would be.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

That fist makin impact and I got a grunt outta ya which I'll take for sure but right now I’m gaspin for air with that knee buried in my furry abs...my body folded around it...my body pitches forward into yers...but then my eyes go wide as that other arm comes up...hands comin loose as I grab for yer shoulder...that elbow SLAMMIN down to the back of my head and neck....UUUUUUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHH...seein stars from that as I fold into yer big muscled body more...my hand on yer shoulder but just barely...my fist that hit yer ribs openin as I grab at yer waist...in some pain now from that elbow and that knee as I try and push back from ya and get some air but that big muscled arm across my neck and that knee in me holds me in...gaspin and heavin...my head against yer chest...my hot breath blowin across yer pecs...like bein enveloped in a hot thick mountain of muscle...the musk from yer body all around me...I tighten my hand on yer shoulder and the one on yer waist...my boots under me as I push back tryin to get loose.

Micah McIntyre

Your body collapses forward into mine, breath blasting hot against my chest as you gasp for air, your hands grabbing for my shoulders and waist just to stay upright. For a second I feel the full weight of you there, sweat-slick skin, your chest heaving as you try to pull air back into your lungs after that knee and elbow. When you try to push away, I move with you instead. My arms wrap in tight around your torso, locking you in against me as my grip cinches hard across your back. “Not that easy,” I mutter under my breath as my hips drop and my legs load beneath us. Then I haul you up in one powerful motion, lifting your feet clear of the canvas. Your body comes up against mine as I pivot sharply on my heel and launch backward, arching clean and hard into a tight belly-to-belly suplex. The ring BOOMS as we crash down, the ropes shuddering from the impact while my body lands across yours, chest heaving as the intensity between us spikes another notch.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I should know it wouldn’t be that easy to get loose from ya but I hadda try. Those big arms wrappin around me tight...UUUUUUUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF...lockin me into ya...and I got a sick feelin I know what’s comin next...and I aint wrong...ya easily lift my little body up...still gaspin and heavin suckin in air...my hairy tatted body against yer immense torso as ya hold me tight then twist and turn then BOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...that belly to belly suplex makin the ring shake as our combined 416 pounds of muscle CRASH down with you on top of me...what little air I was able to get goes whooshin outta me in one huge GASP...my arms flyin up then down to the canvas...my muscled legs under yers spread open...my furry face buried in yer deep pecs as I lay there stunned and dazed.

Micah McIntyre

The impact still echoes through the ring as you lie stunned beneath me, your chest heaving while you try to drag air back into your lungs. I stay right where I landed, my weight pressed heavy across you, letting you feel every pound of muscle pinning you down. Your face ends up buried against my chest and I roll my shoulders slightly, pecs tightening and flexing against your cheek as I draw in a slow breath. Sweat runs between us now, our bodies slick from the grind of the fight, and I shift my hips just enough to settle my balance across you while you’re still dazed from the suplex. Letting you feel the full weight of my swollen manhood as it presses down against you.

My arm lifts slowly beside your head, bicep tightening as I flex it once, letting the muscle bunch and swell from the strain of the throw. Then my other hand slides up and closes around the back of your scalp, fingers gripping firm as I guide your head where I want it. I lean down again, pressing closer, my arm dropping so the thick underside of it settles drags across your face until I position my sweaty pit right where it belongs, your mouth and nose buried deep into it. My body grinds down harder to keep you trapped beneath me. A low breath escapes my chest as the control settles in, steady and deliberate, holding you there while the ring creaks under the shifting weight of both of us.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Laid out under ya...yer weight holdin me down easily...yer arm liftin slowly...then yer other arm goes under...oh fuck...yer arms in control of my head now turnin it where ya need it to be...this big muscle stud could easily just snap my neck if he wanted but I know he won’t...my eyes wide as I see that deep hairy muscle pit come down and cover my face...my nose and mouth sinkin deep into it...yer scent invadin my nose and mouth as I try to breathe but all I can smell and breathe is yer hot sweat and musky manscent invading my senses...yer big body holdin me down...grindin down hard into me...my hands slappin against yer big body but the sweat and scent are overwhelmin me as ya hear muffled moans comin outta yer pit...keepin me trapped...my own body betrayin me as my big uncut cock and balls swell to full size in my trunks...it’s like bein drowned in sweaty hot muscle and my body refuses to even think about escapin...my hands smackin against yer body stop as they grab at yer back and pull that pit in closer.

Micah McIntyre

I keep my weight draped across you after the slam, feeling your chest heave under mine as you try to steady your breathing. My arm stays hooked around your head and shoulder, holding you close against me while I settle my balance over you, the canvas creaking softly beneath the shifting pressure of our bodies. For a moment I simply hold you there, letting you feel the strength in my grip and the weight pinning you in place. My chest rises and falls slowly as I flex my arms around you, tightening the hold just enough to remind you who has the advantage right now.

I let the moment stretch longer than it should. Instead of moving right away, I stay pressed down over you, my muscled body grinding down into you, across your body as I adjust my position. Breathing heavier now as the heat of the fight lingers between us. My arm tightens again around your head while my pit presses down tighter against your face, shoulders rolling as I flex over you and keep you trapped beneath me. I lean down close, muscles bunching with the effort of holding you in place, my focus narrowing on the control of the moment. The pressure, the closeness, the raw intensity of the struggle. For a few seconds I let myself linger there, savoring the advantage… just long enough that my position opens a little as I settle in.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

That huge body holdin me down...my head nearly buried in that deep pit...yer sweat and musk invadin all my senses...and I know ya can tell the effect yer havin on me by my bulge and my moans comin outta yer pit...yer arms tight around my head holdin it there right where ya want it...yer muscles just rollin and flexin into me and all around me...if I aint careful I could easily just succumb to this and let this big man do whatever he wanted to with me and to me. My body tellin me to give up but my mind is tellin me to fuckin fight back...my hairy tatted muscle body sweatin hard...as hard as yers is...body...or mind? I gotta decide...and I aint about to just give up...cause I don’t do that...I aint no fuckin jobber...at least I hope not...I keep at yer pit suckin and lickin at the hot sweat...the salty hot taste so damn good...but its time...my hands fall from yer back and drop to the canvas...then just as quick I bring my left hand up...fingers open and wide...my right hand comes up into a tight fist...I take deep breath of musky air...then...my left hand reaches out and LOCKS down on yer face...my fingers GRIPPIN yer features tight...as my right fist starts SLUGGIN and PUNCHIN at yer head over and over and over...drivin my fist in as hard as I can as my left hand suddenly RAKES down yer face across yer eyes nose and mouth...a desperate dirty trick I know but if I’m gonna escape and get outta this I caint stop to worry about how dirty it is! 

Micah McIntyre

For a moment I let myself sink into the control of it. Your body trapped beneath mine, the canvas humming faintly under our combined weight while the heat of the struggle rolls between us. My arm stays looped around your head and shoulder, holding you close while my torso presses down across you, muscles tightening and relaxing with each slow breath. I lean into it, letting the pressure of my body and the strength in my grip keep you pinned while I linger just a second longer than I should, caught up in the raw intensity of the hold.

Then it explodes in my face.

Your hand clamps down across my features and the first punch slams into my skull before I even register what’s happening. My head snaps sideways from the impact, a sharp grunt ripping out of my chest as another fist crashes into me, then another. The world blurs in flashes of movement and canvas lights as you hammer away. I try to tighten my hold but that brutal rake tears down across my eyes and nose and mouth, fire ripping through my face as my vision bursts white. “Fuck—!” The word tears out of me as my grip breaks and I roll off you, body twisting hard across the canvas. I hit the mat on my side and buck instinctively, one arm coming up to cover my face as my head spins and my sight swims, trying to shake the sting from my eyes while the ring tilts beneath me.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

So shocked that that attack worked the first thing I see is the lights overhead...my bearded face drippin with yer hot sweat and the smell of yer pit still in my nose...it takes me a minute to realize that I’m free! I PULL in air as fast as I fuckin can as I roll over on my side and see ya layin there tryin to clear yer eyes...did I really just slug this big muscle man off me and get loose? I’m goin with a big YES on that as I roll over on my hands and knees...gettin my breath back as I ignore my damn dick and balls and LUNGE into ya...my head SLAMMIN into yer big pecs makin ya roll over on yer back...like hittin hard bricks but I’m determined to show this big man what a littler fucker like me can do! I don’t wait and get to my feet and move toward you...my right boot comin up then down as I drive that boot down into yer ripped abs...STOMPIN down on em 1...2...3...4...5 times watchin yer body react from that then I turn and grab yer head pullin ya up...gettin ya up on yer knees...then without thinkin I raise my right elbow up and SLAM it down to the top of yer head...once...then again...then holdin yer head I start tryin to drag yer big body to the corner...aimin to bounce that head off a turnbuckle as I feel the adrenaline rush shootin thru me!

Micah McIntyre

Your charge hits me before my vision fully clears. Your head drives into my chest like a battering ram and the impact knocks the air out of me as I roll onto my back with a heavy thud against the canvas. I barely get a breath before your boot crashes down into my abs. The first stomp jolts my whole body. The second forces a harsh grunt out of my throat. By the fourth and fifth my torso curls instinctively, muscles tightening under the punishment as my arms come down too late to block it. My stomach burning where your boot drives in, lungs dragging for air while the room still swims from the shots you landed earlier.

Then your hand grabs a fistful of my ginger curls and hauls my head up. My neck tightens as you drag me upright and the world tilts again when that elbow slams down on the crown of my skull. A flash of white sparks across my vision. The second one rattles me harder and I sag to my knees under your grip, trying to steady myself while my head rings. Your pull on my hair drags me across the canvas toward the corner and I plant one boot hard against the mat, throwing a blind swing up toward your ribs, trying to break your hold before you get me there.

But you keep hauling. The turnbuckles loom closer and your grip tightens as you try to drive my face forward. My arms snap up at the last second, forearms bracing between my skull and the pads as my body twists with the momentum. The ropes shudder when we crash into the corner, my guard barely catching the impact while I struggle to shake the haze from my head and push back against you.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

The sweat drippin off me as I pull and drag yer big body across the canvas...surprised that I’m able to move ya let alone drag ya but I aint gonna argue as we get to the corner...that fist comes up into my ribs and I feel it...a GRUNT comin outta me but I’m so stoked that I take the pain and keep at it...plus I’m gettin the feelin that yer actually enjoyin havin me work ya over....just as get to the corner...yer arms come up and grab the ropes...but we get there...yer on yer knees as I drive a knee into one of yer arms holdin the rope knockin that arm loose...my grip on yer ginger curls tight as I SLAM yer face down into the middle buckle...then lift it up and SLAM it down again....then I grin and get an idea...still holdin yer head I drag ya to the ropes next to the corner and drop yer neck over the middle rope...then I climb onto yer back straddlin it...then reach down grabbin the rope on either side of yer head and start BOUNCIN my butt up and down on yer back...sendin yer throat down onto the rope over and over...I growl down at ya feelin a little cocky..."so...how do ya like me now big man? ya likin this as much as ya thought ya would?" I keep bouncin up and down on yer back...that rope hittin yer throat with every bounce!

Micah McIntyre

Your knee slams into my arm and the shock of it blasts my grip off the rope before I can stop it. Your fist grabs my curls and yanks my head forward, the buckle cracking into my face with a dull thud that rattles straight through my skull. A grunt tears out of me as stars burst across my vision and my knees sag under the jolt. My head gets dragged back and driven down again. The second impact leaving my ears ringing, sweat and spit flying from my mouth as my body slumps for a second under the punishment, the world pitching sideways while I try to shake the haze out of my head.

You haul me sideways and dump my neck across the middle rope. The cable bites into my throat and a harsh gasp rips out of me as the pressure clamps down on my windpipe. Before I can pull away your sweaty hairy ass lands across my back. The rope grinds deeper with every bounce of your body and my hands grab at the strands as my body jerks under you, trying to ease the choke. My chest heaves for air that won’t quite come while the rope keeps snapping into my throat, my muscles tightening and straining as I buck under you and reach back for your leg, fighting the hold even while the brutal energy of the moment sends a raw surge of adrenaline through me.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I can see why big guys like you love bein in control....it’s such a BIG adrenaline rush and it’s a HUGE ego boost for me doin this...I hear them gasps comin outta ya each time the rope bites into yer neck...like ridin a big proud stallion as I bounce up and down...I can imagine what ridin this stallion's ass would be like but we aint got time for that right...that might happen later...I grin at that though as I stop bouncin for a minute and grab yer hair then lean down lookin ya in eyes..."doin alright down there big man?" I grin at ya as drag my long tongue across yer sweaty forehead...LAPPIN at yer sweat...tastin the HOT saltiness of it...I growl..."mmm...mmm...GOOD" then I raise up again and DROP my ass down on yer back one more time...the rope snappin into yer throat again...I climb off yer back grab latch onto yer ginger hair again...I see the red marks on yer throat as I’m so pumped I roll ya over...yer back against the ropes...yer big muscled sweaty body laid out...fuck this man is a wet dream! movin to yer legs I grab yer ankles in my hands and lift em up...then spread em open as I bring my right boot up and down right on yer bulge...not to stomp it but to shove into it as I RUB my boot into yer big package back and forth...toyin with ya know...I lean down..."how’s that feelin big man? ready to tap out or submit yet?"

Micah McIntyre

The rope bites hard across my throat again dragging a strained, ragged gasp out of me as my body jerks against it, arms hooked over the strands just to keep from collapsing. My chest heaves, lungs scraping for air, neck burning where the cable presses deep. I’m still trying to pull myself together when you grab my hair and force my head up, and the feel of your tongue dragging across my forehead hits me out of nowhere. Hot, slick, and invasive. It pulls a sharp, guttural breath out of me as my body tenses under you. My eyes snap open, locking onto yours for a split second, something raw flashing through them.

Then I’m hauled and twisted, back against the ropes, arms still draped over them as they hold me up while my body sags for just a second. You lift my legs and spread my base and I feel it immediately. The shift, my footing gone as my hips jerk under the sudden loss of control. My stomach tightens hard on instinct, trying to stabilize as I fight to find something solid under me again. The pressure from your boot drives into my bulge and a sharp exhale punches out of my chest, my abs clenching hard as my hips jerk under it. My head drops forward for a second, teeth gritting as I ride out the pressure, shoulders flexing as my arms tighten over the ropes. But I don’t stay there. One hand peels off the strand and drops to your ankle, fingers locking in tight as I start to twist my hips and shift my weight, planting one boot back to the canvas. My body tightens, muscles coiling again despite the punishment, dragging in a deeper breath as my eyes lift back up to you, clearer now, focused. Working the angle to break your stance and turn this back around.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Keepin this big HOT muscle man trapped like this definitely feels incredible and I gotta say I’m enjoyin yer predicament. Maybe a little too much…I see yer head drop forward and that arm drop off the rope…grabbin my ankle…I try and pull it away but ya already have a TIGHT grip on it. I drop my boot off yer bulge immediately as I feel ya pull that ankle out. I better move back before…suddenly my balance is thrown off a I drop to my ass on the canvas…my ankle still locked in yer grip and I look up to see that huge muscle body standin over me. I know that look in yer eye…I seen it enough times to know I better get away before ya attack. I swing my feet leg up and launch my boot out at yer muscled abs, hopin a strike will get my leg free and I can roll away and get back up but I have a feelin it’s not gonna be enough.

Micah McIntyre

Your boot slams into my abs and I take it, a sharp grunt pushing out of me as my stomach tightens under the strike, but my hand never lets go of your ankle. The impact rocks me back half a step, then I plant and pull, dragging your leg with me as my grip cinches tighter. “Not bad,” I mutter, breath still rough, the ache in my balls easing as my eyes lock on you. As you hit the canvas, I twist your ankle just enough to turn your hips, forcing your body to follow the torque while I step in closer, looming over you again. You try to kick free, but I ride the movement, keeping control of the leg as my other foot lifts. For a split second it hovers high over your bulge, close enough to make the point, before I drive it down hard into the inside of your thigh instead. The strike lands with a solid thud, meant to sting and remind, not cheapen the fight. I keep hold of your ankle as I straighten up, grip firm, expression sharp and just a little amused. “C’mon, Danny boy… you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Somehow I already knew even as I shot that boot out that that wasn’t gonna make a huge difference. That big hand still clamped on my ankle holdin it tight. Ya twist that ankle forcin my body to roll over toward ya. I try and yank and pull loose but that grip is just too tight. My eyes widen as I see that huge boot come up, hangin there directly over my bulge. But that boot comes down strikin my thigh bringin a yell of pain outta me. But it woke me up fast. Of course I shoulda known better than to try this, but when yer trapped like this ya don’t think of the consequences til later. I bring my free leg up and start sendin short hard stomp to yer knee…yer thigh…any part of yer leg I can hit as I twist and pull and yank tryin to get my trapped leg free. The huge mountain of muscle standin tall over me as I kick and stomp at that leg, knowin that if ya come down I better move my ass outta the way quick!

Micah McIntyre

Your kicks start landing, sharp, fast, desperate. One clips my knee enough to make it jolt, forcing a grunt out of me as I adjust my stance. But I don’t back off. My grip tightens instead, fingers digging deeper around your ankle as I take a half step back, just out of range of that free leg. “Yeah… there it is,” I mutter, almost approving, as you fight harder under me. Then I twist hard. Your hips follow whether you want them to or not, your body rolling over as I keep control of the leg and step around with you, dragging you onto your stomach.

Your leg stays trapped as I step over and drop my weight down, sitting back into it while I pull your ankle up and back, folding your body in on itself. The hold locks in deep, pressure building through your lower back and thigh as I settle my balance and lean just enough to make sure you feel it, stretching your hip flexors further than they have ever been. My free hand plants briefly on your back to steady, then slides off as I sit upright, keeping the tension where I want it. “This is what happens,” I say under my breath, calm now, breathing steady again, “when you swing wild.” Slowly, I slide my hand around, planting my palm on your ample bulge, fingers curling in tight, digging into your sweat-soaked shorts. As I clamp down hard on your manhood, I lean back and give the ankle a slight pull. I am not ready to end it, I just want to remind you who you are up against, holding you there, stretched out on the canvas, completely under my control.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Well, I did get one good kick into that knee. I see it jolt and bend a little, but that’s all I get as ya move outta range of my free leg kickin…keepin my ankle locked down tight as ya twist me over on my stomach and I grunt out…”OOOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFF…” Ya bend that leg ya have trapped back toward me almost a half Boston crab I think…stretchin my lower back and thigh…feelin the burn for sure but then that big paw of yers latches onto my bulge and I feel my cock shoot out a stream of precum…damnit…my body wanted to betray me…this big muscle stud gainin control back again…my fists poundin the mat as ya keep me in the air like that…and with me facin away from ya there’s no way I can try and strike back without seein where I’m attackin…I feel ya give that ankle a slight pull makin my foot shake and my calf flex in protest. I think about tryin to reach the ropes but they’re at least three feet away and with yer weight over me and that leg trapped, I know I’d never make it to grab the ropes, that is, if a rope break would get me released. The power ya have in them hands could definitely damage a man’s limbs and I gotta be careful not to move the wrong way and add to the pain that leg is already feelin.

Micah McIntyre

Your body shifts under me, searching, measuring. I feel it the second your weight angles toward the ropes. I let it happen for a split second. leaning forward just enough, easing the pressure a fraction, giving you that hint… that possibility. My grip stays locked, but my posture opens, like I’m letting you work your way there. Then I take it away.

My hand tightens around your ankle and I drag you back across the canvas, slow and deliberate, pulling you inch by inch away from the ropes you were reaching for. My weight drops heavier as I sit deeper into the hold, hips settling in, back straightening as I pull your leg higher and arch you back, tighter into it. The pressure spikes through your lower back and thigh, controlled and precise, doing exactly what I want to you.. “Not yet,” I murmur, voice low, steady.

I shift again, bringing the back of my upper arm down against your throbbing cock. Applying slow steady pressure as the moistness of your sweat and pre dampens my skin. My breathing leveled out now, calm and measured, while you’re forced to react under me. I keep you right there in it, holding you in that space where it builds and builds with nowhere to go.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan
My teeth clench as I let out a sharp hiss of air…fuck…almost had the ropes and ya yank me back from em…my one escape gone…this big muscle stud tauntin me now…I feel the canvas rubbin my chest…my fingers grabbin at empty air. That leg trapped tight in yer grip and trembles, the muscles jumpin under your fingers like live wires and I can’t stop the low sound that comes outta me when ya sink deeper into the hold. Ya have my spine archin sharper than it oughta…feelin that stretch in every nerve like a white-hot bolt shootin up and down me.

“F—fuck…” I din’t mean for that to slip out and it’s barely more than a murmur but it escapes my lips all the same. My hips twitch as I try and find some way to ease the pain shootin thru me as well as the pleasure…this big man knows how to give both at the same time. I oughta know cause it’s one of my specialties too. That arm against my cock, the fire in my hamstring and leg…I try and twist some way that lessens the pain but all that goes is grind me is grind me harder into your arm. My big cock shootin precum in my shorts smearin inside em and then drippin out onto yer arm and I know that you know yer the cause of that.

The sweat runnin down my face as I try and hold on, though I aint sure what I can do to escape.

Breathin hard, my body inhalin against ya and when I exhale it brings another tremor outta me that makes me groan in pain. My fuckin cock pulses harder as yer big arm presses into it. I never been made to cum by a guy’s forearm before but there’s a first time for everythin, I guess. Every move ya make to increase the pressure sends a jolt thru my balls and another ragged whimper escapes my mouth that I hate myself for lettin escape out. I hafta find some way to escape and get free before that leg goes numb or ya force me to blow my load and I got a feelin both might happen in a matter of minutes.

I manage to turn my bald head toward ya, unable to see ya head on as I growl, “Yer…enjoyin this, ain’t ya big man? My voice ragged and hoarse. “Makin me leak all of ya…somebody’s been watchin me in my matches, I see.” Still tryin to prove I can take it and not appear weak in yer eyes. My eyes glassy as I suck in air again, but another groan escapes as I exhale.

My hips back again but nothin but instinct behind that and all that does it get me wedged in tighter. I feel the pressure amp up again…my thigh shakin…my abs flexin in and out, shakin even. I bite the inside of my mouth to keep myself from givin up. I can already feel the words tryin to force their way outta my throat.

My fist bangin on the canvas in frustration as I know my energy is runnin out and that leg is gonna go numb if I don’t find some way to get loose, but right now, I ain’t got a clue what to do or how to do it. That’s one of the drawbacks of bein a down in the dirt bare fisted brawler. We don’t know much about holds and such, but we know how to use our fists and bodies. I take another ragged breath in and hold it then…”fuckkkkk…fuckkkkkk…ok…ok…I…I…I…”

I ain’t gotta look at ya to know the look on yer face…the look of a big hot sexy muscle man about to get a submission outta his opponent. I don’t wanna say it at all. That feelin ya get when ya know yer gonna look weak in yer opponent’s eyes and the feelin ya get when ya see that look…it ain’t a good feelin but I ain’t gotta clue how to get outta this.

Micah McIntyre

I can feel it in you now. The tremor in your leg, the way your body tightens and shifts under the pressure, the breath catching and breaking as you try to hold it together. My grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it sharpens. I lean forward just slightly, letting the tension ease for half a heartbeat, like I’m considering it… like I might let you off. My hand slides along your trapped leg, fingers pressing into the muscle as it jumps under my touch, finding exactly where you’re weakest.

Then I sit back again, harder.

Your body jerks as I pull your leg higher, folding you tighter into the hold, my weight settling deeper as I control the stretch through your back and hip. “You’re right,” I murmur, low and steady. “I am enjoying this.” Grinding my arm more firmly against your throbbing cock, “Seems you are as well.” I chuckle, keeping my breathing even while yours frays, my posture loose in a way that makes the pressure worse. I shift my grip lower, isolating your leg, then rise just enough to change the angle before driving your knee down toward the canvas with a sharp, controlled force. The impact sends a jolt through you and I hold it there for a beat, leaning over you, letting it sink in.

I release the leg and step back, straightening up as I roll my shoulders loose, shaking out my arms like I’ve got all the time in the world. Circling you slowly, boots thudding against the canvas, eyes locked on you as you lie there trying to recover. “Still with me?” I ask, voice low, a hint of a smirk pulling at my mouth as I stalk around you, giving you just enough space to think you might have a chance. 

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Ya keep up the pressure of this hold on me…I can already feel the numbness in my leg startin, no matter which way I try and shift, it just won’t go away. Then, yer words to me fall down on me like rain. I feel my furry face flush and turn red and fuck, I hope ya don’t notice that but I got a sinkin feelin ya already have. My cock leakin like a fuckin sieve now, the precum just rollin down outta my trunks onto yer muscled arm and down my hairy leg over my big tat on my left thigh.

That grip shifts lower but then ya rise ya and I start thinkin maybe he is gonna lemme go and I can roll and get some time to recover and try and make a comeback or have a chance to take ya down again. But, then ya SLAM my knee down full into the canvas, bringin a ROAR of pain outta me like the fuckin MGM lion that echoes thru the air of the musky gym. Ya hold that knee down then, ya let go and I hear ya move back. That leg falls to the canvas, numb other than the shootin pain from that knee smash that’s still sendin waves of pain up and down my body.

I do my best not to look at ya as I lay there for a minute, pullin in air…my dick stoppin its precum factory that was workin overtime in my trunks. Finally, I try and move…my hands clawin at the canvas as I hear yer boots thuddin against the canvas nearby. Yer voice askin am I still with ya as I slowly and painfully start crawlin toward the ropes. I nod a few times, not able to speak yet. I get to the ropes and grab onto em like I’m a drownin man at sea and use to pull myself up onto my good leg. I shake out my other leg, the numbness goin away…my knee throbbin bad but I can bend it so it’s not outta commission. Leanin against the ropes, I adjust my soaked trunks and shake the sweat outta my eyes.

I look over at ya with that smirk playin at yer lips and I think, “cocky mutha fuckin muscle man…I need to wipe that fuckin smirk off his face…in fact, that face could use some rearrangin I think.”

I push off the ropes lockin my eyes on yers…my dark eyes narrowin as I come toward ya, both of us circlin…like two feral male animals facin off like we’re in one of them old Tarzan films where the two warriors battle for supremacy. I gotta forget about the pain in my knee and I suddenly LUNGE into ya…a left right combo aimed at yer abs then my hands locked onto yer muscled thighs as much as they can as I try and yank yer legs out. My head rockin forward into yer pec valley drivin my skull into it as hard as I can. I wanna give this man everythin I got...and everythin I got left in me. This ain’t about payback and it ain’t about revenge…this is about provin to him and to myself that I got what it takes to go against the big men.

Micah McIntyre

As you crawl for the ropes, I don’t rush you. Taking one slow step for every inch you drag yourself forward, with my eyes locked on you. I stop just short of the ropes and plant my feet, looming there while you pull yourself up, letting you take your time like I own every second of it. A faint smirk tugs at my mouth as I tilt my head, sizing you up again now that you’re vertical. “That all you got back there?” I ask, voice quiet but cutting. “Sounded like you were about to quit on me.” I give a small, deliberate flex through my arms and torso, just enough to remind you what you’re dealing with.

You push off and come at me, and I meet you head-on. Your fists slam into my abs, solid shots, but my core tightens on instinct, muscles bracing and absorbing the impact with a dull thud. A grunt slips out as I hold my ground. Then your hands grab at my thighs and your head drives forward into my chest, forcing me back half a step this time. “There you go,” I mutter through my teeth, the smirk still there, even as you try to bulldoze me.

My hands drop fast, one hooking under your arm, the other bracing against your shoulder as I shift my weight and twist my hips, redirecting your forward drive instead of stopping it. I step to the side and shove, trying to throw you off your line and break your grip before you can get my legs out. As you recover, I snap a short shot down toward your side, then another, quick and tight, keeping it in close as we square up again. No more holds now. Just impact.

“Thought you were done,” I say, my breath a little heavier now, eyes locked on yours. “Guess I was wrong.” I circle with you, lighter on my feet this time, hands up, ready. “C’mon then, Danny Boy,” I add, a sharp grin cutting across my face. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.” 

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

My fists connect hard and I knew yer abs would tighten on even before impact, but I was countin on my modified bulldozer move to work, guessin that maybe ya wouldn’t be able to stop if I could throw yer balance off enough grabbin yer big thighs and hittin yer chest with my head as hard as I could. But, just like that final Jeopardy answer that the guy with most money gets wrong by havin the wrong question, my plan failed badly. Yer big arms comin under mine, hookin em fast and quick, yer weight shiftin and shovin, my head turnin sideways as it flattens against yer big pecs…all that headbutt done was make my head throb with pain…just what I needed…more pain. Yer twistin body throwin me off balance as I lose my grip on yer thighs and grab at yer waist just to hold onto and not fall over. Those quick short shots to my side diggin in and I feel yer knuckles as they drive into me, bringin short moans outta my mouth as yer batter my sides knockin me side to side, the sweat just sprayin off me as I’m feelin kinda like a rag doll at this point, knowin ya could end this at any time.

Then, ya move back away from me, leavin me standin there, pantin…gaspin…sweat runnin down my face…into my eyes…down my beard…my hairy tatted body…it’s like the overhead sprinklers went off in here there’s so much sweat from both of us. I see that grin on yer face as I stand there…mouth open...swayin back and forth. Ya start circlin and I move as well, but yer boot steps are steady. Mine are stumblin staggerin ones like I been on a four day drunk, but at least my hands are up. I’m startin to wonder if I got anythin left now. That last attack took a lot outta me and if I don’t come up with somethin soon, I know yer gonna finish me off and take me down hard and mean. Did I really think I could take on this big mountain of muscle and win? Was I that delusional and that egotistical to think that? I sure as fuck hope I was wrong.

I only had one thing left in my arsenal and that was bare fisted brawlin and I had big doubts if it’d work. I already got one miracle when ya let my leg go and gave me a chance to come back. Two miracles in one fight? That never happens. But I wasn’t about to give up and not at least try. I lock my eyes on you as we circle, me still staggerin a little but getting better. Our hands up, I suddenly fold mine into fists and dive in as fast as I could. A left jab to yer ribs then a right to yer navel. Movin in closer before ya can swing I hope, I fired off two fast right hooks to yer ribs, then brought my left fist around and up comin straight up to try and land a European uppercut to yer jaw and follow that up with a right left combo to yer face if that uppercut worked as the sweat flies off both of our movin bodies.

Micah McIntyre

You come in again, staggering, but still with fight left in you.. Your jab cracks into my ribs before I can prepare for it, the next shot digs in deeper and forces the air out of me in a sharp grunt. I try to tighten up, but you’re already inside, hooks slamming into my side with real weight, shifting me just enough to knock me off balance. Another fist drives up under my jaw and snaps my head back, a flash of white cutting through my vision as I stagger, blinking hard while the follow-ups clip me high and force my guard up tighter than it’s been all match. My grin fades, replaced by something sharper, more focused as it sinks in that you’re not going anywhere. 

I fire back on instinct, a tight shot into your ribs to slow you down, then another quick one up toward your chest to check your forward drive. It lands, but it doesn’t stop you. That’s the difference. I can feel it in the way you stay in front of me, the way you keep pressing even after everything I’ve put on you. My breathing’s heavier now, timing just a fraction off as I circle with you, guard high, eyes locked in. There’s a shift in my head as much as in the fight. This isn’t me working a guy down anymore. This is a fight. My jaw tightens as I step back into range instead of giving ground, shoulders squaring up again. “Alright…” I mutter, low, almost to myself, a hint of respect cutting through the edge. “You’ve got more in you than I thought.” 

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

So caught up in the fight, I’m not even thinkin about what I’m doin…I’m just doin it on instinct and maybe that’s what makes a half assed old fighter like me a better fighter. Don’t think about what yer doin…just get in there and do it! And that’s what I’m doin as the two of us start exchanging blows rather than holds. The sweat flyin off both of us as the fists fly, the sounds of punches hittin bodies and faces, the grunts comin from both of us. The ring just a frame around us now. We don’t need to use the ropes or the corners. All we need is just the two of us goin at it like men…MEN who have a hunger for testin other men and showin what they can do and prove to not only their opponent but to themselves that they got what it takes.

I keep sluggin and punchin at yer ribs over and over and alternate those shots with shots to yer face and yer chest, my fists feelin like they have a mind of their own as we both land good hard shots. Not carin a fuck about what he look like right now…there’s time enough for that later when we’re done. I drive in again and come in low with a left right combo to yer lower sides, then grab yer waist and RAM my head square into yer solar plexus. I step back and fire off a hard mean right left right t yer face and head, aimin the shots at yer nose, jaw, mouth, face, anywhere I can get a punch in and land it. And yer givin just as good as yer takin. I feel yer shots as they land, but I ain’t botherin to worry about the damage they’re doin. In the back of my mind, I can see us like two kids at fuckin Christmas, excited to tear open their presents and see what they got. That’s us…only we’re two MEN tearin each other open with our fists and if yer big bulge and mine are any indication, we’re both havin the time of our lives as we keep this sweaty horny brawl goin!

Micah McIntyre

Every bit of your power drives into me. The shots to my ribs land harder, thudding in deep and forcing the air out of me in short bursts as I try to keep my core engaged. A punch clips my jaw and turns my head as another snaps against my cheek. I answer back on instinct, driving a hook into your side and a straight shot up into your chest to slow you down. But you don’t. You crash in low again, your head slamming into my midsection and knocking me back a step, as my breath hitches. The impact rattles through me in a way I can’t shrug off.

You press the advantage, fists flying. Forcing me to react more than dictate. Your punches keep finding openings, glancing off my guard or slipping through just enough to sting and stack up. I fire back where I can, short hooks, tight shots, catching you in the ribs and once across the jaw, but it’s not stopping the forward pressure. My footing gives ground inch by inch until the ropes press against my back, the tension in them catching me. My arms come up higher, fists tight near my face now as I absorb the next few shots against my guard, shoulders tightening, elbows pulling in to protect my body.

My breathing’s heavier, chest rising and falling as I lean into the ropes, doing my best to reset. My eyes stay locked on you through my guard, focused, calculating now instead of cocky. I roll my shoulders slightly, testing my base again, waiting for the rhythm of your strikes to break, for that moment when you deplete your energy, and the surge starts to fade. 

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

The tide of this battle goin back and forth and it don’t show no signs of stoppin anytime yet, but I’m startin to feel more like me and I can tell from yer reactions and yer shots that yer seein me in a new light and that thrills me and just makes me wanna go harder and meaner. I manage to drive ya back against the ropes as ya bring yer fists up to yer face and yer elbows in tight. That’s gonna protect yer face and yer ribs but leaves me lotsa other places to hit and punch.

And I don’t wait as our eyes stay locked…narrowed now and fuck if I didn’t nail one of yer eyes a coupla good times cause I see the swellin there. Bouncin on my toes now, I strike and pound at yer body, workin yer upper and lower abs and the bottom of yer pec valley then move my shots down to just above yer navel but far enough away that I don’t accidentally hit yer bulge. I wanna save that for somethin less violent later on. Not that I don’t think ya cain’t take ball shots cause I know ya can but why hurt an impressive bulge like that when there’s so many other more fun things a man can do with it.?

My shots comin in fast and hard and my knuckles are already red and sore from strikin yer body and head, but again, I ain’t gonna worry about that. Steppin back for a moment, I swing my left fist up aimin it at yer lower right just under yer elbow hopin ya block it as I bring my right up and shoot it out straight at the swollen eye of yers to see if I can keep rockin yer world like yer fuckin rockin mine!

Micah McIntyre

You’re breaking me down piece by piece.. Every shot you dig into my body lands heavier than the last, my prize abs starting to fail, no longer stopping the impact as the air keeps getting knocked out of me in rough bursts. I keep my hands high, trying to protect my face, but it leaves my torso open and you keep finding it, working me over with a rhythm that’s starting to take its toll. My body reacts before I can think, tightening, flinching, absorbing. Each blow harder than the last, the pain fills my head, keeping me off balance, failing to mount my own counter strikes. 

My vision blurs as you catch that swollen eye again, throwing everything just slightly off. I bite on the low shot and the next one snaps into me up top, my head twisting as it connects. The ropes dig into my back as I take another hit as the momentum tips, your pressure building while mine slips.

Enough.

I drop my arm from my guard and hook it tight around your waist, dragging you in before you can reset. Stepping off the ropes and driving forward, I force you back across the canvas, boots pounding as my weight presses into you. Your back slams into the corner and I don’t hesitate. My shoulder slams hard into your core, as I put everything I have left in me behind it, trying to crush the air out of you and shut this surge down before it takes any more out of me.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

There’s that moment in every fight when one man realizes he has his opponent on the defensive and is in control and for me, that moment has come. I keep sluggin and punchin away as this big hot muscle stud does his best to keep covered and deflect as many of my shots as he can and a lot of em don’t connect, but a lot of em do and I can tell yer bein pushed to that point where yer either gonna go down or yer gonna decide you’ve had enough and come at me full bore. And I gotta admit, I’d choose the full bore over the goin down part, cause I get the feelin neither one of us is ready to end this.

And just like that, ya grab me round the waist and PULL my body into yers forcin a GRUNT outta me, this big mountain of a man pickin me up so just my toes are touchin the canvas and SHOVIN us across the ring as fast as he can. Before I know it, we’re in the corner and my back SMACKS into the turnbuckle as I GRUNT again louder feelin the padded buckle dig into my back. I no sooner get dropped back on my feet than ya RAM that huge shoulders DEEP in my core…like bein hit with two freight trains at the same time as air and a HUGE spray of spit exits my mouth into the air and bringin a GASP of pain outta me. That shoulder sinkin in deeper…the initial impact strikin my solar plexus…my biggest weakness in my body and that’s what he hits…I hafta go with it but I know it’s gonna hurt like a bitch to try and force air back into me.

I bring my fists up and around to yer back and start SLAMMIN hard punches, sluggin and poundin at yer broad back, strikin any part of it I can. It’s like poundin on a huge fresh hunk of beef that sweats like crazy and I cain’t ignore the hot musky smell comin off yer back and yer…well…hell…every inch of yer huge body and my dick is havin its own party in my shorts, shootin out precum like graffiti in appreciation of yer scent. Every THRUST of that shoulder I try and SLUG and PUNCH yer back with my fists…single punches, two fisted punches, rapid fire combo punches. Both of us gruntin and breathin hard…them turnbuckles DIGGIN into my back as we stay locked in this position.

With that shoulder buried in my core, I caint get a good shot at yer head but I can feel the blood from somewhere…yer nose or eye drippin down my bruised ribs and onto the mat. My own sweaty face streaked with blood from my nose as well. I keep up my attack on yer back as ya keep SHOVIN and RAMMIN that shoulder in…the only thing I ain’t tried is a knee. But I better do it now cause if that shoulder drives in any deeper, Imma be done for. I bring my right knee up and DRIVE it up into body as hard as I can even though I cain’t see where it’s hittin, I feel it hittin muscle as I pump my knee up into it repeatedly as the sweat just pours off us like a Brazilian rainforest durin the rainy season.

Micah McIntyre

My shoulder drives in and buries deep in your core as my hands shoot out to grip the ropes on either side of you,  anchoring myself as I keep the pressure on. The thud of your back against the turnbuckles fills my ears with every shove. There’s still resistance in you, the fight still there as your body tries to hold up under it. UNNGHHH…UNNGGHH…UNGGGGHHH…your fists start hammering into my back. Heavy, relentless shots pounding into my lats and shoulders, each one jolting through me and pulling rough grunts out of my chest as I keep slamming forward anyway. The impact stacks, your knuckles digging in. My cock swells and leaks in my trunks as the trail of sweat and blood trickles down your abs, across my quads, down onto the canvas. Both of us pushed to the edge now.

You shift. Before I can react a mix of blood and spit flies from my mouth as your knee drives up into me. The first shot hits solid and knocking the breath out of me, jolting my core. The next one lands deeper, my core tightening too late to stop it. The knee keeps pumping in. Each strike forces another grunt out of me, my grip tightens on the ropes as I fight to stay in control. Pain building fast, but it only feeds the surge running through me now. Gritting my teeth, I shake it off as best I can, and drive in one more time, harder than before, forcing you back into the corner with everything I’ve got.

The ring shudders and I wrap my arms around you, pulling you in tight against me, closing the space before you can fire another knee. With a sharp shift of my hips I let out a howl and haul you up off your feet. The stink of your fur and sweat fills me as your body lifts against mine. I turn, carrying you out of the corner before throwing you down hard into the center of the ring. The impact echoes up through me as I follow you down, landing over you and pinning you there. I don’t give you time to recover. My arm comes up and drives a forearm across the side of your face, then again, tight and controlled, keeping the pressure on as I lean over you, breathing heavy, eyes locked in, refusing to let you build that momentum again.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

My blows to yer back and my knees wherever they’re hittin ya seem to be havin an effect from the grunt and air I hear comin outta ya but that big shoulder is just wreckin my core and I ain’t sure how much more I got left in me, but I ain’t willin to stop now and I sense yer not either.

The ring shakin and shudderin  as we stay in that corner, both givin this everythin we got when ya shift yer hips and haul me up off my feet. I GASP out as ya lift me up in them arms of yers. Oh fuck, I think, he’s gonna crush me in them arms I just know it. But then ya throw me down HARD to the canvas…my body hittin the canvas and I GRUNT out from that…I start to roll but yer not gonna let that happen as ya SLAM down on top of me…that big hot sweaty body sittin on top of me…holdin me down…eyes locked I bring my fists up to work yer face over some more but that forearm of yers SLAMS across my face back and forth…AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH…rakin across it…blood flyin out my nose…one eye nearly closed as ya rock my skull hard…my hips comin up HUMPIN against yer butt…I can feel yer ass sittin on my hard cock in my sweaty trunks.

This is two men locked in an erotic feral battle…both with somethin to prove which I think we’ve done. I keep punchin and sluggin away at yer face, both of us wantin to give each other as much pain and pleasure as we can! Tryin to build momentum again, but them big forearms are knockin the fuck outta my head but that don’t stop us from grindin into each other even more. I just might lose this fight yet, but Imma make sure ya know I ain’t an easy win, no matter what it takes as I feel my big cock leakin again as my hips come up over and over grindin my bulge into yer sweaty trunks!

Micah McIntyre

My sweat-soaked, muscled body presses down, keeping you pinned to the canvas. Thick pecs drive into yours, sweat and blood slick between us as I shift my weight while you buck underneath me, trying to work free. Your fists come in hard, glancing off my arms and shoulders, but I stay tight, crowding you, making sure you feel every inch of me holding you down. My forearm drives into your face again, snapping your head to the side. I grab you and turn your face back, locking my eyes with yours as I pull you into my chest, flexing my pecs against you, making sure you know you’re not going anywhere.

As I press down, your hips buck up and your thick bulge presses into me. My glutes flex into it in response as you moan into my chest. My legs slide around yours as I keep the pressure on, my swollen cock throbbing and leaking in my trunks as we grind together. I stay in control, pressing my legs tight against yours while my torso shifts up along your body, each breath deep, each movement building more heat between us. “You’re not done yet, Danny Boy,” I mutter low, breath heavy, as I bring my arm up and slam another tight forearm down across your face, then another, keeping the pressure on and refusing to give you an inch to breathe or break free.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Every drop of that HOT sweat touchin my skin sends shocks thru my hairy body like crazy makin me even MORE horny and MORE turned on. Those big thick pec slabs of yers grindin down into my smaller hairy and tatted pecs just addin to this fight…though I ain’t sure if it’s a fight or a match or if this the hottest fuckin erotic foreplay I ever got involved in! I keep tryin to push UP and twist with ya on top me under some crazy impression that I’m gonna actually budge this hot sexy muscle stud off me and why the fuck would I wanna do that anyway! But, that ain’t gonna stop me from using my fists that not doin much other than bouncin off ya. Yer way too smart to let them connect as ya stay tight against me. If anyone was to walk in now, I bet they wouldn’t be able to tell if we was fightin or fuckin! That forearm SMACKIN my face again…more blood shootin out my nose as my head gets rocked to the side again. Ya grab my face and turn it lock eyes with me again.

Realizin that I ain’t gonna have no luck gettin out from under ya, even though our bulges are havin their own party down below. But this ain’t no time to worry about who’s havin more fun down there. This huge muscle fucker ain’t about to lemme have a moment as I feel yer legs wrap around mine. I do my best to try and pull one free, but yer too quick and fuckkkkk…now my legs are trapped. All I got left to fight with now are my fists and arms. I try and buck up again not to get free but stretch my torso up enough that I can start punchin at that face of yers again. I hear the low gravelly voice tellin me I ain’t done yet, but I ain’t sure I’m buyin that. I get as far as Imma get in movin and just go for it, swingin my fists wildly at yer head and face, aimin to hit anywhere I can but fuck me with an unlubed tree stump…that big forearm comes up again and WHAMMMMMMMMMM…rocks my head again…this time yer knuckles graze my temple as my head snaps to one side…my fists flyin wild but not hittin nothin but air now. That last forearm makin me groggy as my eyes go kinda glassy…the only sounds I can hear is our heavy breathin and the creakin of the ring I struggle to stay with ya here.

Micah McIntyre

You start to slip under me, your punches losing their snap, your body still fighting even as it gives. My chest rises heavy over you, heat rolling between us, sweat slick where we’re still pressed together from the struggle. For a moment I don’t move, just looking down at you, taking in the effort written across your face, the way your body still tries to answer even when it’s spent. I ease off gradually, making sure my body drags across yours as I push up, the contact lingering as I rise. My hand slides across your chest for balance before I step back, giving you space but keeping my eyes locked on you the whole time. I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand, clearing sweat and blood, then shake my arms out once, loosening them. You’re still down there, pulling yourself together, and I don’t rush it. I let you watch, measuring, the air between us still thick with everything we just put into each other.

“C’mon,” I say, voice low, steady, and I mean it.

I reach down and offer my hand, firm and open. When you take it, I pull you up strong, bringing you close enough that our bodies brush again, chest to chest for a brief second before I let you find your footing. My grip lingers just long enough to steady you, then releases, but I don’t step far. My eyes move over you, slower this time, taking you in, not just as an opponent but as a man who stayed in it with me. “You’ve got fight,” I murmur, voice quieter now, closer, carrying a different weight than before.

I step back into position, hands coming up, shoulders loose, posture relaxed but ready. I give you just enough space to move, but not enough to escape, my stance opening slightly as I settle in. The smirk comes back, but it’s changed now, less cocky, more knowing. “So show me,” I add, eyes locked on yours, the heat still there, sharpened into something that’s not just about winning anymore. 

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I feel the pull of yer hand bringin me up again, the brief chest-to-chest hittin like a second heartbeat right after the first one finally starts to slow. I can feel the heat still pourin off ya, the way yer breath fans across my collarbone before ya give me room to stand on my own.

My legs are jelly, lungs burning, but the ache feels honest instead of punishin now. I roll my shoulders once, feelin the places where tomorrow’s bruises are already promisin to bloom. Yer grip is gone, the echo of it lingerin on my palm, warm and sure.

I meet yer eyes and that smirk yer wearing ain’t the same one ya started with. It’s quieter, less about dominance and more about recognition. I’m thinkin yer seein me for the first time without the adrenaline narrowin everythin down to strike and counter. That shift does somethin low in my gut.

I don’t answer with words. I take one deliberate step forward, closin the gap ya left without crowdin me. My hands come up slower than before and not guardin so much as invitin, palms open, fingers loose. I let ya see the tremble in them, not from fear but from the simple truth that my body is runnin on fumes and stubbornness and I’m still choosin to spend both.

I tilt my head just slightly, mirrorin the angle of yers and let one corner of my mouth lift.

Then I move. Not so much a haymaker and not a desperate lunge as I step inside yer reach, one hand snakin out in a slow lazy jab aimed at yer solar plexus but not to hurt but just to make contact, to say I’m still here. I telegraph the punch enough that ya could slip it if ya want or let it land soft and feel the weight of my intent behind it.

I follow up with a short, tight hook off my jab, aimed at yer ribs where I clipped ya earlier with just enough snap to remind ya I remember where I hurt ya before. Enough to ask, without asking: “You still want this dance?”

My eyes stay locked on yers as I hold my frame enough to eat a counter, but steady enough to say I’ll take it if it comes. I don’t need to prove I ain’t broken. I’m just tryin to show ya the only thing that matters. I ain’t done choosin to meet ya. My voice comes out rough and ragged, but calm.

“Yer turn, big man.”

Micah McIntyre

You step in, the jab landing clean against my core, my body tightening under it as I draw a slower breath, absorbing it. The hook that follows finds the same spot you worked earlier and it pulls a deeper grunt out of me this time, my stance shifting just a fraction as I take it. My eyes stay locked on yours, something changing there as I take you in again, not just as a body in front of me, but as a man still pressing forward, still answering everything I’ve put on him.

My feet plant, then I take a step in and  come back at you, but it’s not as sharp as before. My shot into your ribs lands, then another follows, controlled, measured, but there’s a slight lag between them now that wasn’t there earlier. My breathing’s heavier, shoulders rising and falling as I stay planted in front of you, choosing not to give ground even as my timing dulls just enough to notice. It’s there in the way my punches land a beat late, in the way I have to reset my stance instead of flowing through it.

We stay close, trading in tight, neither of us breaking the distance. I bring my guard up, but it isn’t sealed the way it was before. My elbows don’t quite close the lane, my hands just a touch slower to return. My jaw tightens as I keep my eyes on you, steady, stubborn, refusing to step away from the exchange.

“Still here,” I say quietly, breath rough, slowly bringing my arms up, fists clenched as the blood drips from my chin, slowly motioning my fists towards you, inviting you closer for more of this dance.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

As our punches land, slow and methodical but not to damage or hurt cause we’ve done plenty of that already to each other. It’s more of a tradin back and forth both determined to show we can take what the other is givin out. Our heavy breathin echoin off the walls now as our fists lands. Where they wouldn’t have connected earlier, they get thru and land easily.

Our bodies radiatin the heat and passion that even a blind man could see as we move in even closer, tradin shots back and forth, both gruntin and gaspin but not in pain. It’s more of an acknowledgement that this is a dance that only two men like us can perform and enjoy together. Our eyes locked tight, I see the blood drippin off yer chin and that jaw tighten. I follow suit settin my jaw, the blood and sweat drippin off me as well and neither need to look down to know that our cocks are hard as fuck and ready to be put to use when we need em.

I hear that “Still here” comment and I answer, “So am I.” I’m not for sure if it’s the right time, but I know if I don’t do this yer gonna do it. I take one step back from ya, still feelin yer hot breath on me as I swing my left fist up and, this time, POWER it up to full as it DIGS into that injured spot again, my knuckles drivin into yer side. My right fist clenched tight as I ROCKET it up hard, DRILLIN it straight up into yer jaw at full and uninhibited power, feelin my knuckles STRIKE it hard SHOVIN yer head up and back. My finishin blows as it were. I growl low and dangerous at ya as they strike, “Still here too, ya big fucker. Ya ready to submit now or do I need to break my new toy?”

I get my fists ready to attack again…just in case…

Micah McIntyre

Your step back barely registers before the punch drives in. Pain erupts as your fist buries into my side, landing deep right where you’ve been working, and this time my body doesn’t get there fast enough to brace for it. A rough sound tears out of me as my core tightens too late, the impact folding me just enough to open me up. Your other hand comes up right behind it and connects clean with my jaw, snapping my head back as a sharp jolt explodes through my skull. My vision flashes and my footing shifts under me, boots dragging across the canvas as I fight to stay upright instead of dropping.

I steady myself, but it takes more out of me now. My breath draws in heavier, slower, my chest rising as I bring my hands back up, not as tight as they were before. There’s a delay in my reactions, a slight hesitation before my body answers, and you’re close enough to take advantage of it. I swing back at you, trying to answer, but the shot lands shallow against your ribs and the next one rides up into your shoulder without doing much damage. The strength behind it is still there, but I have to force it through fatigue, through the ache building under my skin, and I can feel the loss of sharpness the second it leaves my hand.

I stay in front of you and push through it. Every breath drags now, every movement pulling against the strain settling into my muscles, but I fight not to give you the space to see me fold. My body feels heavier, slower to respond, the hits you land still echoing through my ribs and jaw as I tighten up and keep my stance under me. I step in again, forcing myself back into range, refusing to give ground even as my body protests it. My jaw sets hard, eyes locked on yours, and I keep swinging, not clean, not perfect, but with enough behind it to let you know I’m not done and I’m not giving this away without making you take it from me.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I almost grin as this man ain’t ready to fold yet and deep down inside I ain’t ready for that to happen either, but neither am I gonna fold in front of you. Our punches sloppy and weak, yes, but with still enough power to make each other feel em and enjoy and embrace the feelin of our fists hittin man flesh. The sweat drippin and sprayin from us both still, the blood from earlier dried now and there ain’t to reason to shed any more.

We stay face to face locked in together tight, neither one of us backin down one fuckin inch. Our hot breath ragged now, both pullin in deep gasps of air, every muscle in our bodies screamin for us to stop but they might as well be orderin from Door Dash for all we care right now. The punches echoin off the walls along with our heavy breathin as we keep swingin our fists. Our sweaty trunks bulgin out between us and our hard dicks grindin into one another thru the thin fabric and both leakin precum out so hard its drippin down our legs.

Yeah, I still in awe of this big hot muscle stud. That ain’t never gonna change, but he proved to me today that I am good and that I deserve to be right where I am…right here…with you…right now and that fills me with a pride I ain’t felt in a long damn time. I can see in yer eyes as they lock with mine that ya want me to make ya take it and I ain’t about to disappoint ya. Without movin a step this time, I suck in as much air as I can…I’m gonna need it for what I’m gonna do. That air fillin me and I dig down deep for that extra whatever it is that fighters keep for reserve as I start DRIVIN my fist into yer ribs…this time HARDER and DEEPER, workin that damaged area more and more. My other fist comin up and I start poppin hard short jabs at yer face, yer eye…nose…mouth…jaw. The more I punch and slug the harder yer shots become in return as we both pour on the intense pressure both determined to go down swingin and brawlin, no matter who goes down first.

Micah McIntyre

The rhythm shifts as you step up the attack. Your hands are getting there faster now, slipping inside my guard, digging into my body and snapping my head around before I can react. Each shot lands with a dull, heavy impact, the damage stacking in a way I can’t shake off between breaths. My vision narrows, one eye struggling to stay open as I try to track you, and I know I’m reacting a step behind. I throw back anyway, fists driving forward with intent, but they don’t land the way I need them to, glancing where they should dig, chasing instead of meeting.

We stay pressed in close, heat rolling off both of us, sweat slick between our bodies as we grind and clash without giving an inch. My chest brushes yours with every exchange, breath dragging in hard as I try to keep pace, to answer every shot with something of my own. The hunger for blood driving me, making my cock swell and throb in my trunks as our bodies grind closer. You dig into my ribs again and a rough grunt breaks loose before I can stop it, my guard dipping just enough for another shot to clip my jaw and send my head snapping to the side. I fire back with a hook that lands, solid but not clean, my arms heavier now, my timing just a fraction behind where it needs to be. The fight hasn’t left me, but it’s costing me dearly to stay in it.

I plant my feet and keep swinging anyway. My lungs burn, my muscles strain, and every hit you land rattles through me, but I refuse to give in to you. My fists come back at you, harder than they should be at this point, driven more by will than anything left in the tank. Another shot cracks against my ribs, forcing my body to twist and hitch, balance shifting before I force it back under me, jaw tightening as I stare you down through blurred vision. I stay in it, still throwing, still meeting you in the middle, even as the edge slips and the fight starts to lean your way.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Both of us still fightin on even tho our minds are screamin at us to stop but when did fighters ever listen to their minds. We listen to and with our bodies and our bodies are not willin to stop yet no matter the cost. My shots are getting thru way easier than they did and I’m not backin down an inch landin shot after shot to yer jaw…that eye…yer ribs…alternatin my shots so ya won’t tell hopefully what’s comin next.

But yer givin just as good as yer takin. Yer rib jabs are weakened but still have power behind em, the shots to my core diggin in at half power but I still feel em. I weave at one point and realize too late I shoulda dodged as a stray right hook of yers comes in fast and SLAMS into my mouth, bustin my lip open again as blood sprays out onto yer sweaty chest. A loud gruntin gasp comin from me but I stay in close.

So close in fact that our hard leakin cocks still in our shorts graze and grind against each other and I don’t need to look down to know that yer hard fighter dick just shoved the head of my uncut pierced cock outta one leg of my shorts, drippin precum out. Yeah, so our dicks have minds of their own and we’ll get to them in a while, but not just yet. I dig a hard left right combo to yer abs, twistin the shots in and hearin the grunt slip up from yer throat. Then, I move in closer…yer hot breath in my face…my left flyin in and diggin twice into yer injured and now probably bruised side as I see ya arm half drop to try and protect it. I land a right on the opposite side and don’t wait for yer arm to drop as I swing my right up and ROCK it hard against yer temple as the sweat and blood flies all around and onto us.

Micah McIntyre

Your combination lands clean. The shots to my body dig in deep, pulling another strained sound out of me as my core tightens too slow to stop it. When your fist cracks against my temple, everything tilts. My vision lurches sideways, balance slipping as my footing gives, forcing me to  stagger back. The ropes catch me before I go down, arms dragging over the top strand, chest heaving as I hang there for a second, trying to pull myself back together while the ring sways under me.

My head dips, then lifts again, jaw clenched tight as I force my eyes back on you. One side of my face throbs, my ribs aching with every breath I drag in. Those last shots took a lot out of me. My body feels heavier now, slower to answer, but I don’t let myself sink into the ropes. I pull against them instead, shoulders tightening as I straighten just enough to stand, even with my arms still hooked over the top line. Sweat runs down my face, mixing with the smear of blood as I blink through it, forcing my focus to lock back in.

I push off the ropes, staggering. My legs don’t quite answer the way I expect, one step dragging as I come forward, balance wavering before I catch it. My hands come up out of instinct more than control, guard loose, drifting as I try to track you through the haze. The ring still shifts under me, my head slow to clear, and I sense how close I am to losing it if I take another clean shot like that. Still, I stay upright, swaying in front of you, breathing hard, not throwing anything back yet, just trying to hold on and keep myself in it.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I see ya stumble back into the ropes…yer arms drag over the top one holdin ya up. Yer still standin but I know yer in pain and that ya gotta be nearin yer expiration date in this fight. I see ya pull it together as yer head lifts…yer chest havin…ya ain’t the kinda man that just lets himself drop and I know it. But I can tell that even as big, strong, and muscular as ya are that yer muscles must feel like heavy weights that yer just at the point of not tryin to move an inch.

The sweat runnin down yer face as I push in again…two more hard jabs to yer injured side…then a hook to yer abs…then I wind up my right and send it shootin UP right into yer jaw puttin everythin I got left behind it. If this don’t take him down, nothin will and I know I’ll be the one slidin down yer body to the canvas cause my gas tank is runnin on less than fumes now.

Micah McIntyre

You step in swinging, but my body doesn’t answer in time. The jabs slam back into my side, each one digs into the same battered spot, pulling a strained breath out of me as my guard lags behind. The hook to my abs slams into me and my core tightens on instinct, but there’s no strength left to meet it. The wind leaves me in a rush, saliva and blood spraying across your tatted up torso as I double up. Already a step behind as you load up again.

Your fist drives up into my jaw and everything goes white.

The impact snaps my head back hard, my body going loose in the same instant as the force travels through me. My footing disappears, legs giving out as the strength just drains away, and I drop, my weight falling forward into you before sliding down. The roughness of your fur and the stench of your musk overwhelm me. The ropes are gone, the ring tilts out from under me as my arms fail to catch anything. There’s a dull, distant awareness of the canvas rushing up, of my body hitting heavy and unprotected, but it barely registers through the haze that swallows everything up.

The canvas presses cold and rough against my skin. A wet sticky sensation chills my skin as sweat and blood pool beneath me. Pain flares through my jaw, my ribs, my head, sharp and scattered, and somewhere in that haze I try to move, try to push up, to get a hand under me, anything. My arm twitches, muscles tightening without strength behind them, and nothing follows. My chest drags in a breath that doesn’t feel like enough, and I realize I can’t get my body to answer the way it always has.

I lay there, caught between instinct and reality, the fight still burning somewhere in me even as everything else shuts down around it. I try again to move, to gather myself, but the signal just doesn’t carry through. The strength is gone, spent in every exchange that led here, and what’s left won’t lift me off the mat. My eyes stay half open, unfocused, fixed on nothing as the noise of it all fades back. 

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

That last barrage had the effect I was lookin for and I see yer head rock back and then…oh fuck…this huge mountain of muscle is comin down…like a buildin that just got imploded…I could either move and let ya drop hard and mean or I could grab on and ease ya down…and I pick the second option. Course, it don’t help that I’m as exhausted as you are as ya come down fast…almost knockin me down but I manage to grab onto ya all the same as ya slide down…yer legs givin out…yer bloody face slidin down my sweaty, hairy, tatted chest. I manage to keep a halfway good grip on ya as I drop down on my knees followin ya down as ya drop on yer side.

I take a minute to look at ya head to toe. I see ya twitchin and yers eyes are open but I know that look all too well and I know the signals yer body is sendin out. I gently roll ya on yer back and pull off my gloves then yers and lift yer head up, shovin our gloves under yer neck and head to give it some support. Breathin hard as I suck in air, I gasp, “Lay…there…champ…I’ll…be right…back…” I slide outta the ring and stumble to the first aid kit on the wall and find what I’m lookin for and come back and slide back in…on my knees crawlin toward ya. I bring the ammonia ampule up and SNAP it lettin the fumes waft past yer nose to try and help clear yer mind and bring ya back. God knows I’ve been where ya are enough times and now all I wanna do is help ya recover.

I see yer eyes start to focus a little and I give ya a grin and…well fuck…who could resist this? I lean in and press my furry wet lips to yers, kissin ya gently as I lay one bare hand on yer sweaty muscled chest. I raise back up still on my knees. “Ya ok big man? Ya took a purty hard fall there but I tried to catch ya and bring ya down easy. Just lay there and lemme take care of ya.” I lean in and kiss yer lips again. Fuck, is there any part of this man that ain’t a fuckin turn on? If there is, I don’t see it. Movin down I bring my lips and tongue down to yer sweaty neck lickin at yer sweat and inhalin the musk comin off ya…my hand on yer chest movin to yer left nipple and rubbin my hand across it, feelin it harden and react to my touch.

My mouth travels to yer chest as I take yer left arm and raise it up, yer hand over my shoulder as my mouth comes down and dives into that sweaty musky pit of yers, the scent and the hot sweat there like a fuckin aphrodisiac that they oughta bottle and sell. My hands movin back and forth over yer nipples as I feel my big dick in my sweaty shorts leakin again and well, I don’t need em anymore as I RIP the sweaty fabric from my body and raise up outta yer pit, usin the wet material to wipe at the blood on yer face to clean it off some.

Micah McIntyre

The sharp sting of the ammonia cuts through the fog. My face tightens on instinct, a rough breath dragging in as my head shifts slightly against whatever’s propping it up. The haze doesn’t lift all at once, but it cracks enough for sensation to start bleeding back in. The canvas is still under me, firm and unyielding, my body heavy against it, every part of me aware in a dull, aching way. Your voice reaches me next, low and close, and I manage the smallest turn of my head, eyes struggling to focus before finally settling on you.

The kiss lands soft, unexpected. I don’t have it in me to react much at all, but there’s a slow awareness there as your hand presses to my chest, grounding me. My breath comes uneven, dragging in deeper as your touch moves, my nips engorging with blood as your fingers trace around them, pinching and pulling. A low sound slips out of me before I can stop it, more reflex than intent, my body responding even as it’s still trying to recover. My arm shifts where you move it, heavy but compliant, the scruff of your beard, scrapes against my skin as your face buries into me. Your tongue laps at the sweat in my pit. My arm closing down around your face as I start to register the weight of you, the contact solid, present, your body pressed against mine in a way that keeps me anchored.

My head rolls slightly to the side as you wipe at my face, the fabric dragging across skin still damp with sweat and streaked with blood. It’s a strange mix of sensations, the aftermath of the fight still echoing through me while your touch works over me in a different way entirely. My chest rises under your hand, slower now but steadier, and I blink up at you, vision clearing enough to hold you there. My body doesn’t answer the way it should yet, but I’m aware again, grounded in it, feeling the weight of everything that just happened and the presence of you still right here with me.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I see yer eyes still clearin and yer mind not quite there yet but yer awake and aware and that’s enough for right now. I finish wipin as gently as I can at yer face and meet yer eyes again. I know yer wantin to speak and try and move, but I ain’t lettin ya do much for the time bein. “Shhhh…just lay there and lemme handle this champ. I got ya.” I whisper as my tongue flicks at yer ear then I raise up and reach down, peelin yer sweaty trunks down yer body and off yer legs, grinnin as I see that big fighter cock and balls come out on display. I suppose I could go and get some towels to dry us off, but I’ll do that later. I take yer soaked trunks and wring em out lettin the sweat drip from em onto the canvas then use them to finish wipin at yer face getting the sweat and blood outta yer eyes and enjoyin lookin at that handsome face of yers.

I give ya another ampule of ammonia like before, lettin the fumes waft into ya rather than shovin it under yer nose. Yer head restin on our pile of gloves as I see yer eyes clearin more and ya start to speak but I put two fingers against yer lips and shake my head. “Nope…just rest. Yeah, I got the knockout and won but fuck I hadda work for it. Ya pushed me hard and rough and I ya made me earn that win, big man. And that, my friend, earns YOU a place in my heart. Ya showed me that I can do it and ya made me prove it to myself. That’s somethin even money cain’t buy. Now ya just lay there and lemme take care of you for a change.”

I lean in again and plant another kiss on yer lips this time a little more forceful as our lips meet and I feel yer tongue meet mine. Our hot breath meetin again as we connect like only two fighters that have connected the way we have can. I break the kiss finally and move down yer muscled body, my hands and fingers tracin yer biceps and forearm and hands…my mouth and tongue kissin and lickin yer pecs…yer nips…movin down to yer muscled abs…lickin the sweat from each muscle there. I look up at ya and see the start of a smirkin grin and I wink at ya as I move my head down farther and stop at yer groin. That massive, big cock and balls on display. The head and shaft swollen and hard. Yer balls swollen with yer pent up juice. I take my time as I lick and kiss yer groin on both sides of yer cock lickin at the sweat in the hair there, takin my time to give ya the attention that ya deserve.

My hands on yer muscled thighs squeezin em and feelin the hard muscle in em, finally I open my furry ginger mouth and close it down around the head of yer cock gently but firmly…my tongue lickin at yer slit, tastin the hot sweet salty precum leakin out of it. I let my teeth graze against yer glans and grin as yer body and cock twitch, reactin to that. I then start takin in yer cock into my mouth, inch by hard inch slowly and deliberately until I have every inch of it in my mouth and throat down to the base. I hear a moan escape yer lips as  ya realize that I din’t tell ya I have no gag reflex and yer just only now findin it out. My ginger beard rubbin against yer swollen sack as I work the head of yer cock into my throat and wrap my tongue around the thick shaft slowly takin in every twitch and throb that goes thru em.

I hold yer cock there buried in my mouth and throat for a few minutes, just enjoyin the feelin and taste of it and I can tell yer already fallin into that lust mode that us fighters love so much. I drop down on my chest with yer cock still in my mouth and grab yer muscled legs in my hands liftin em up and placin em over my shoulders so yer feet are against my back as I slowly suck and work that big fighter dick of yers.

Micah McIntyre

The next breath I pull in doesn’t steady me this time. The smell of the ammonia catches me, held up as your mouth moves over me with purpose. The heat of it drags across my chest and down my torso, and my body answers immediately, muscles tightening under your lips, before easing just as fast. I’m giving in without meaning to. A low sound pushes out of me, deeper now, less controlled, my head tipping back against the mat as I feel you take your time. My chest lifts into you on instinct, breath coming heavier, every pass of your mouth pulling a stronger reaction out of me than the last. My hand shifts at my side, then higher, fingers flexing like they’re looking for something to grab onto, something to anchor me as the tension starts to build.

You don’t rush, and that makes it worse in the best way. Every inch you cover leaves something behind, a heat that lingers and spreads, drawing a slow burn through  my core that has nothing to do with the fight anymore. Before I can think about it, my body moves. A slight lift, a subtle press into you, then settling back down as I exhale through parted lips. Another sound slips out of me, rougher, more open, and I don’t try to stop it this time. My hand finds your side and stays there, gripping just enough to feel you, to confirm you’re real and not just something my half-spent body is imagining.

By the time you move lower, there’s no resistance left in me. The second your attention shifts, my body reacts in a way that’s immediate and impossible to ignore, hips shifting, breath catching again as tension coils tighter. My cock rock hard and pulsing as your mouth engulfs it. Your tongue sliding around it, milking my pre from my throbbing head. I arch and turn slightly, eyes half-open but locked in, watching you as much as I can while everything else pulls me under. My grip on you tightens, not stopping you, not guiding, just holding on as the sensation builds and spreads through me. Every movement draws a stronger response. My glutes flex as I arch my hips into you, pressing against your scruff as you take me hungrily. My body giving it back without hesitation now, caught between the fading ache of the fight and the rising heat replacing it.

I stay there beneath you, no longer trying to recover, just riding what you’re pulling out of me. My chest rises and falls in a slower, heavier rhythm, my body fully present again, fully aware, and no longer holding anything back. There’s a tension in me that’s different now, deeper, sharper in its own way, and I let it take hold instead of resisting it. My hand presses firmer against you, my body shifting subtly in response to yours, meeting you. I don’t look away, even when it gets harder to hold focus, eyes fixed on you as everything narrows down to the heat between us and the way my body answers it without question.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

I feel yer muscled body reactin to what I’m doin and I can only hope I’m readin yer body language right. Yer body tensin then relaxin again and again as my mouth continues to work yer hard cock slowly and gently. Yer chest risin and fallin in a slower rhythm now as I slowly release yer hard cock from my mouth, the taste of yer precum on my tongue and lips. I raise up over  ya, grabbin yer knees as I raise up, yer lower legs over my shoulders.

In this position now, I hafta admit I would never have imagined myself bein where I am right now, especially with someone like you. I hafta take a moment to just enjoy the feeling of dominance and power. Now, I understand completely what big men like you feel when they an opponent down and in their control. However, yer not a man to relinquish control. I might be on top of ya, yer legs on my shoulders and in a position to just take what I want, but if I’ve learned anythin here, it’s that earnin respect from an opponent is worlds more important than getting to take their ass.

I lock my eyes on yers and I know by instinct that we don’t need words to say what we want or need. With us, a look is all we need. I stare hard into yer eyes and nod my head slowly at ya as if askin if yer ready and I know whatever yer decision is, I know that I’ll honor it and respect if cause along with lust and attraction, I respect the connection we made here today. Right here, right now is like one of them moments frozen in time. My uncut pierced cock ready and yer hard cock throbbin, our bodies tensed but relaxed and our eyes locked as I leave the decision for me to enter up to you.

Micah McIntyre

My cock throbs and leaks as the warmth of your mouth envelops it. The sensation lingers even after you pull away, a slow, charged absence that my body hasn’t caught up to yet. My breath catches as it fades, a low tension still coiled tight through me, muscles tightening on instinct before easing back down into the mat. There’s a brief, involuntary shift in my hips, my body expects more, then it steadies as I drag in a deeper breath and let it settle. The heat between us mixing with the ache already running through me. Your hands move to my legs. Lifting them up over your shoulders. The shift in position pulls a different response out of me as my body adjusts under your control.

You pause. I see it in your eyes, the shift from taking to asking, from dominance to something earned, and I meet it without looking away. My body is spent, recovering, but there’s nothing uncertain in me as I hold your gaze. You took me down. You pushed me further than I expected to be pushed, and I felt every second of it. You’ve earned my respect, and I let it show, not in words, but in the way I stay open, the way I don’t pull back or brace against you.

My head tilts just slightly as I lock in on you, breath steadying as much as it can, and I give you a slow nod. It’s deliberate and without hesitation. My hand lifts enough and waves you forward, reinforcing what the look already said. I’m with you in this  moment, fully present, letting the decision settle between us, keeping the connection we built.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

Them blue sexy eyes are the kinda eyes that could bore right into a man’s soul if he was to let ‘em and I let em. That slow nod then yer hand liftin…yer fingers wavin me in. I take in a deep breath as I grab onto my hard dick and push the head of it slowly against yer hole, knowin yer gonna feel the PA first and I want this to be just as good and hot for you as I know it’s gonna be for me. I gasp a little in surprise as yer hole flexes open and…fuckkkk…I feel it latch onto my cock head and PULL it in…not many men know how to do that and I shouldn’t be surprised that you do. I’m findin out just how talented ya really are and I keep my eyes locked on yers and my mouth shut (for once) as I push forward slowly feelin every inch of my thick cock enter yer tight muscle chute. And I ain’t surprised at how tight it is, cause this is a man who don’t let just anybody inside him. I’d be willin to be there ain’ t one man that’s fucked ya that didn’t earn that privilege and I’m proud to be one of ‘em.

I feel my balls meet yers as all of my dick goes inside ya and I hold it there for a minute or so. Our eyes never breakin away as I part my furry lips and whisper, “Damn…that’s…good.” As before, we don’t need a lotta words and as I keep my throbbin cock deep in yer ass, my hands move up to yer sweaty muscled pecs and nips startin to squeeze and massage and work ‘em as I feel yer own big huge cock slappin against yer abs and I can tell by the smell that yer already shootin precum out. I whisper a quiet moan as I pull back with my cock and start thrustin in and out inside yer ass, startin slow and building speed steadily. I bring one hand down off yer pecs and wrap it around yer cock and start strokin and pumpin it in time with my thrusts…workin the swollen head of yer cock with my thumb and feelin the slit open and close as it spits out precum on my thumb and down yer shaft and on yer abs.

I lean down more toward ya still locked in yer gaze as I let a long strand of saliva fall from my mouth onto yer left pec, then finally I break the eye lock as I bring my furry mouth down on that nipple, lickin and suckin at it with my tongue and lips…my teeth nippin at it…my hand on yer dick and my dick in yer ass startin to pick up momentum and speed now as the sweat drips off our bodies and puddles on the canvas under and around us.

Micah McIntyre
Our eyes lock, and I see the recognition in yours as you register my consent. My ring puckers as your warm, moist head presses against it. My hips tilt toward you, giving just enough, letting you in on my terms before my body tightens and pulls you the rest of the way. A grin cuts across my face when I catch your reaction. My muscles clamp down hard under you, then I drive back up into you, not giving ground, not letting you settle in like this belongs to you alone. Your waist is slick under my hands as they clamp down on your sides, fingers digging in with intent, pulling you closer, making sure you stay where I want you. A rough breath tears out of me as my chest lifts into yours, my body firing faster now, stronger, the hesitation burned out of me. As you pick up the pace and drive deep, our bodies collide with force, the impact as our balls smack together sharp and constant, the contact grounding and raw. I meet you every time, not giving way, not letting the moment slip, making sure you feel exactly how much of this is mine too.

My eyes stay locked on yours, even with exhaustion dragging at me from the fight. The rhythm builds between us and starts to quicken, but I keep hold of it, refusing to let it run past me. My grip shifts, one hand sliding up your back, as you press down harder against me. My hips drive up to meet you, more deliberate now, more insistent, my breath breaking loose, deeper as the pace climbs. Your warm saliva drips onto my heaving trimmed pecs, then your mouth dives in, working my rock hard nip as your hand finds my throbbing, leaking cock. My body shudders, as a low guttural sound escapes my throat that I don’t try to hide. It’s raw and grounded, pulled straight out of the fight and into this.

My arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer, not letting you set the rhythm alone anymore. My body moves with yours, then against it, pushing, answering, taking control in flashes. The contact is constant, heated, driving, and I lean into it fully, letting the urgency take over. My hand tightens against you, holding you there, guiding the pressure just enough to make it mine too. “Fuck yes, Dan!!  Fucking seed me!!!” I howl out, voice rough, steady, claiming the moment instead of surrendering it. My hands tighten on you, keeping you in the moment, guiding you, making it clear, I’m not just along for the ride.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

My eyes flashin with pure fire as that raw, demandin howl tears out of you and it ignites somethin savage in me. A vicious, predatory grin rips across my face. I ain’t slowin down and I ain’t about to hold back. I fuck you harder, faster, slammin my uncut cock into ya with brutal, punishin force. Both of us in control now, both ownin the moment together in the way only two men like us can. Neither one backin down one fuckin inch, but both of us sharin this moment in time together, dominance and submission merged together and becomin one. Our bodies collidin violently, skin slappin loud and wet, my heavy balls smackin against yer ass with every savage thrust. The sound is filthy and primal.

“Yeah? Ya want my fuckin load that bad?” I snarl thru gritted teeth, voice wrecked and animalistic as I stare straight into those sharp, defiant eyes. “Then fuckin take it. Take every mutha fuckin inch while I wreck ya and breed ya deep.”

I crush my chest down into yers, sweat pourin between us as I pin ya beneath my weight. One hand grips the back of yer neck like a vice, forcin yer face to stay locked on mine so you cain’t look away even for a second. My other hand wraps tight around yer throbbin, leakin cock, strokin ya with rough, merciless pumps that match the poundin of my hips.

Yer ass muscles clamp down on me like a hot, velvet fist, squeezin so hard it rips a guttural, broken roar outta my throat. My pace turns feral. Short, violent, jackhammerin thrusts that drive the swollen head of my cock over yer prostate again and again without mercy.

“Fuck yeah…squeeze me just like that,” I growl right against your ear, my breath ragged. “Milk it outta me. Pull my cum out with that greedy hole, fucker.”

I sink my teeth into the thick muscle of yer shoulder, bitin down hard enough to leave a deep mark as my hips lose all control. The pressure churns faster in my balls, my cock swellin even thicker inside yer clenchin hole, every vein pulsing.

I can feel the edge rushin up fast, violent, and unstoppable.

“Gonna flood you,” I rasp, voice crackin with raw need. “Gonna pump ya so fuckin full yer gonna be drippin my seed for days. Ya ready? Ready for me to breed ya like ya fuckin belong to me?”

No warning.

My hips slam forward one final, devastatin time as I bury every inch to the hilt and my whole body seizes.

A deep, savage, guttural roar explodes outta me as the first powerful jet of cum erupts violently inside ya, thick and scorchin hot, floodin yer guts in heavy, pulsin ropes. My cock throbs and jerks wildly with each brutal spurt, unloadin everythin I have in thick, endless bursts while I keep grindin deep, forcin every drop as far inside you as physically possible.

My hand flies on yer cock, strokin ya brutally fast thru my own shatterin orgasm, demanding ya cum with me right fuckin now.

“FUUUCK—take it all! Every fuckin drop!” I snarl against your mouth before crushin our lips together in a messy, desperate, teeth-clashin kiss.

My body keeps shudderin, hips stutterin with aftershocks as I empty myself completely into ya, pulse after heavy pulse, until I’m completely spent and shakin on top of ya.

Micah McIntyre

The shift in you is instant and violent. Your body bears down harder, driving into me with a force that drags more harsh breaths out of my chest, my muscles clamping down around your thick shaft on instinct. My hands lock onto you, not to stop you, but to hold you there, to feel every ounce of that power as it crashes into me. My back presses into the canvas, then lifts again to meet you, refusing to just take it, forcing the contact to stay mutual, controlled, mine as much as yours. The impact between us turns relentless, heat building fast, my cock throbbing and leaking as your rough hand grasps and strokes it, faster and harder. Every movement pulls a stronger reaction out of me.

You press in closer, sweat pouring off your fur and inked covered body. My grip shifts, one hand bracing at your back, the other tightening at your side, keeping you anchored where I want you as your intensity spikes. A rough sound breaks free from me, low and unfiltered, my head arching back for a second before snapping forward again, eyes locking onto yours. There’s nothing distant in me now. Every nerve feels lit, every movement amplified, my glutes flexing as they tighten and release in a rhythm that builds faster the longer you stay pressed into me. When you lean in, when your weight settles into me, I meet it, chest to chest, breath mixing with yours, holding you there. There’s no way you’re controlling this.

The surge hits you, rippling through your body. Your cock explodes, sending your seed deep into my core. Your tension, your control, fractures into something raw. My own body answers immediately, my canal tightening hard around you, a deep, involuntary reaction that pulls another strained breath out of me. My hands clamp down, holding you in place as the moment peaks, not letting you pull away, not letting the connection break. A low, rough sound tears out of me as everything tightens at once, my body driving up into yours, matching the intensity instead of being overwhelmed by it. The heat of your load against my prostate sends me over the edge. My body tenses as my thick shaft pulses in your grasp. My balls pull up as every muscle in my body tenses. Arching back, my lungs explode and my howl fills the room as rope after rope of my hot seed explodes and sprays across you. Even as my senses overwhelm me, I stay with you, locked in, present, holding the moment in place as it crests and spills over, refusing to let go until it runs its course.

When it finally starts to ease, I don’t let you pull away right away. My hands stay locked on you, holding you there, keeping your weight pressed into me as my chest rises hard against yours. My breathing is uneven, but there’s control in it again, something settling back into place as the moment comes down. My body doesn’t go slack. It stays engaged, grounded, still answering you even as the intensity fades.

My eyes stay on yours, steady now, clearer, and there’s something different in them than before. Not just heat. Not just satisfaction. Recognition… and control. I shift just enough under you to remind you I’m still here in this, still present, still dictating how close you stay and how long. My grip tightens, just enough to make the point land without a word.

I keep you there for a second longer than you expect before finally easing my hold, releasing you on my terms. My head tilts slightly as I study you, breath still heavy but measured now, a faint smirk starts at the corner of my mouth. You took me down. You got what you came for. But the way I hold your gaze makes it clear that it doesn't settle anything between us.

Dan Freyr-Sullivan

The sounds of male animal lust FILLIN the entire room as we orgasm together. My hard cock FILLIN yer tight muscled chute full of my HOT manjuice and yer thick hard fighter cock ERUPTIN and EJECTIN thick ropes over and over all over me my chest and abs and drippin back down onto yer body. I feel yer hands still tight on me like yer tellin me not to move and I for sure ain’t goin no damned where any time soon. I wanna freeze this moment in time. Hell, we could live in this moment and never wanna leave.

Our eyes locked as the orgasms start to slowly subside and it’s just then that we realize that more than just a fight happened here. A connection is there now that wasn’t before. Based on respect and admission that we really are two of a kind. When this all started, I wouldna been able to say that, but now, right here in this moment, we exist and we KNOW. Both of us are on that level of male animal existence that only fighters know and recognize. And even though yer hands hold me tight, I’m holdin onto you just as tight as I let yer cock free from my hand but leave my cock still half hard in yer ass as I lean down and lick my long tongue up yer shaft and sensitive head, cleanin the last few strands of cum from it.

I raise up with a half grin/half smirk and see the same thing on yer face. I lean in and press my lips to yers…yer cum smearin on yer lips as they part and our tongues find one another and meet again, but this time not in battle but in pleasure. The sweat and dried blood and now cum on us runnin down our bodies as we lay there together. Two warriors who came here to claim victory over the other. Yes one of us claimed that, but in the end we both won somethin far more important than just a fight win. We’ve both crossed thru that door together and feel the strong connection that we’ve made here today.

Micah McIntyre

I hold you close as the intensity of our mutual eruption starts to ebb. Your weight lingers over me, heat and musk enveloping me. There’s a slow awareness to it now, the warmth of your breath, the drag of your mouth across my shaft. My muscles tremble as you take your time, exploring, memorizing every inch of me. My body reacts in quieter ways, smaller shifts, abs tightening, breath catching, not from the fight but from the intensity of everything that followed it. Your face comes up to mine, our lips meet, and I don’t hesitate. I meet you fully, taking your tongue into my mouth, tasting the mix of sweat, blood, and cum. Fuck...my cock pulses again as my hand slides up your back, keeping you there. Framing this moment. A snapshot for the memory book.

Your body presses against me, the closeness unbroken. My chest rises into yours as I breathe, slower now, deeper. There’s a rawness to it, not just from what we did to each other, but from what we allowed, what we gave. My hand presses along your side as I hold your gaze again. The smear of the fight is still there between us, heat, sweat, along with the sticky, sweet fluid I sprayed between us. I lean into it, into you, letting it mark the space between us instead of cleaning it away too quickly.

“You had to work for that,” I say finally, voice low, roughened but steady, my thumb pressing once into your side as if to underline it. My eyes narrow slightly, not in challenge but in recognition, in the kind of respect that doesn’t need dressing up. “And you got it.” My heart pounds as I exhale deep, and that faint edge of a smirk returns. My hand lingers on you, not pulling away yet, keeping our connection intact.

I hold your gaze a second longer, not letting the moment cool, my hand still firm against you, feeling your heat, your weight. My chest rises into yours again, slower now but no less deliberate. There’s something different in the way I look at you now, a hunger that didn’t get fed enough to be satiated. You got me tonight, took it clean. I own that. Still, I keep you there, not letting you drift, the message clear: I’m not finished with you.

My fingers trace up your spine, hand sliding to the back of your neck and holding you there, firm and deliberate, not ready to let the moment go just yet. My faint smirk settles back in like it never left. My semi hard cock pulses again as my body presses up against yours. “You feel that?” I murmur low, voice still rough from everything we just put each other through. “We’re not done.” My eyes stay locked on yours, steady and certain, the edge back where it belongs.

I let the silence stretch just enough. Let you register that before easing my grip, not pushing you away, just loosening enough to let you feel all of me. “You got this round,” I add, quieter now but no less certain. “Next time… we see who ends up inside whom when it’s over.”

END…OF ROUND ONE

Published: 2026-04-12, viewed 102 times.