The Factory Reading Room

was a multi-event champion sex fighter making lots of money on the New York City underground sex fighting circuit, living and training with the newly formed sex fighting squad called Team Factory. I loved training. I loved being on a team. I love being a black belt in Brazilian jiu jitsu and rolling every day. I lived the life of a high fitness athlete and it was my dream. One day I was thinking about how the favelas outside of Rio where I grew up consumed my brother. What could I have done to save him from the gangs if I had a fraction of the money or power I have now? It sometimes pulled at my heart. I know I was just a boy too, but I was his older brother. I was supposed to protect him. The Factory has a free jiu jitsu class for kids on the first floor and I know how much I loved volunteering to work with them. I knew it was a way to be with my brother in spirit. Who knew after one chance meeting with one of the kids’ social worker my life would change forever.

The young social worker was named Miguel. He brought some of his foster care kids here to the Factory programs, founded by my dear friend and teammate Andre Jordan. Miguel told me about this hard to place set of toddlers that just needed a happy ending. Marco and Dominic, one from the Dominican Republic, the other from the Czech Republic, both 3 years old. They had both been abandoned by their birth mothers. The good news was someone had the smart sense to put these two together and they formed an attachment that may go a long way towards mitigating their abandonment experiences. The bad news was they were so bonded with each other they never ended up connecting with foster families. It is good they were placed in foster care as a pair, but due to their unique connection to each other, no one has wanted to adopt them.

My heart ached for them. I couldn’t get them out of my head. Then one day I was looking for triangles while training jiu jitsu, looking for that third corner, and it occurred to me. Maybe these boys just need a single parent, their third corner that can be patient and let them connect to him at their pace. A placement worker was willing to give it a shot and the next thing I know I am attending classes and having my tires kicked. Willing to do anything with the belief that love and jiu jitsu can be the answer.

DM: When I think back to my earliest memory there is only Marco.

MR: And for me there is only Dom.

DM: They say we attached to each other out of a primal need for connection, and I think I can remember sense impressions of Marco’s face and eyes.

MR: Like little blink memories, little flashes of Dom’s face, I see those too. Just a glimpse of an eternity of looking into each other’s eyes.

DM: Then the earliest memories are of rolling and jostling joyfully with you. Papa was teaching us jiu jitsu.

MR: I get some anxious feelings about those early memories, but yeah, rolling together, like we were made of rubber and there was no winning or losing, there was just keep going.

DM: Yeah, remember bro, we were watching the kids randoroi the other morning at the Factory, they looked like energizer bunnies, they just never stopped randori transitioning. That must have been us.

MR: Yeah. No winning or losing. Just randori.

DM: Just randori.

As I was taking this leap of faith parenting two 3 year old’s, I was watching my teammates Joel Green and Rahim Ali adopt two 5 year olds. 1, 2, 3. I thought to myself They will be 2 years ahead, I will watch all the mistakes they make and learn from them, but oh boy was their masculine family’s presence sometimes essential in our lives, providing a real sense of an extended family as well.

10:00 Marco_Ramirez: I bought a house in Kensington, Brooklyn, a residential and diverse neighborhood tucked in with Windsor Terrace and Prospect Park South, and very close to Prospect Park. As soon as we got Marco and Dominic settled into their bedroom and oriented to our home, I also got them enrolled in jiu jitsu for toddlers. The hope was that by externalizing their connection through simple, yet physical, body connecting ways as a dyad first, that then training jiu-jitsu with peers might help them become more socially connected in a gentle, age-appropriate way by building safe physical interaction, cooperation, and emotional regulation. Creating safety through working with the body somatically to bypass their sympathetic nervous systems that currently has them only seeking safety through their own connection.

I spent half the day training, with the boys in day care, and the other half just hanging out with them. I took them to their daily jiu jitsu class and worked with them, their instructors and the whole group of kids. I watched Marco and Dominic first create this new, playful way to outwardly express their deep bond, then use it to connect better with their peers. The close but respectful contact helped them get comfortable with other bodies and boundaries, which helped build their trust and social confidence. The gentle rolling the kids do with each other emphasizes using their bodies without hurting others, reinforcing empathy and self-awareness. Slowly, I saw the boys build a sense of belonging and feel more confident, cooperative, and socially engaged with their peers and tears came to my eyes.

DM: … And the clearer the images of you and I constantly grappling, the clearer the images of Papa Rafa become too.

MR: Man, we really did just constantly wrestle like energizer bunnies.

DM: It was this thing we could do DM:. And there was no down side to it. We seemed to have all the energy we needed and matches never ended. It was pure joy so we were obsessed with it.

MR: That’s right, and then we became obsessed with wrestling Papa. Do you remember? We would sneak attack him, gang up on him. Somehow he always knew we were there.

 DM: And then his big strong arms would gently lay us low. Yes. Yes. I remember we became obsessed with wrestling and did it so often it was like we were in a fugue state. I remember we would be wrestling Papa Rafa and all three of us were still watching TV.

MR: Yeah, well, we didn’t realize at the time our father was an elite martial artist. Even now we are up and coming athletes ourselves and he can handle us literally with his eyes closed.

I actually took a break from training so I could just hang out and get to know my new boys. I would always put them down for their naps together. It wasn’t long before we were shoving two single beds together since they were only using one anyway. Even when put to bed separately, one would crawl in bed with the other and through the night they slept curled up together. So, we just went full sized mattress thinking they will grow into it and wanting to support their bond at all times. I fed and clothed, changed and washed those boys, and read to them every night, but when they hooked into each other I was no longer there. I could just feel it. It’s weird to say how much it hurt, but I was warned to expect it. I just left my arms open to them and patiently waited for them to reach out to me. Finally, one night instead of getting fussy about it being bed time, they fell asleep on either side of me in my arms and I cried as quietly as I could. My heart was breaking open that they finally let me into their circle of trust. Shortly after that they started crawling into bed with me at night for quite a while. It felt like somewhere in our pile of night time bodies my brother was at rest as well.

It was after they started feeling really safe in their connection to me that I started to see them more clearly as well. They had really imprinted on each other and were very similar in temperament. They were both very quiet and smart, methodical and determined. They were both highly competitive with each other and unrelentingly kind to each other. In later years they would even develop similar physiques and very similar grappling and fighting styles. At first glance, they couldn’t look more different. Marco with his dark brown skin from the Dominican Republic, and Dominic with his eastern European light skin and dark hair, but watch them do anything and they are similar. People started calling them “Rafa’s twins,” when they were young and folks refer to them that way today.

DM: I remember discovering that Marco and I were suddenly a lot better than the other kids at jiu jitsu. We had been grappling day and night. We grappled in the park, at home in the backyard, and at night we wrestled in bed.

MR: I remember. Even when we wrestled slowly in bed, we would be so tactical, move so methodically, we were constantly learning by moving together as one. Yeah, that’s when we really started to get competitive too, right?

DM: Ha. That’s right. Over night we went from fun and games to a slow ramp up of competitiveness until we were always just sharpening ourselves against each other.

MR: And Papa Rafa was always there, feeding us what we needed to get to the next level. He bumped us up with much older kids in our jiu jitsu classes. We wanted muscles like the older kids, whose asses we were still kicking at jiu jitsu, but Pops only let us do body weight exercises until our bones were fully developed, then he coached us into a more serious calisthenics routine as soon as our bodies could do it.

DM: Once we started working out we competed at everything. We competed for every single rep of pushups, lunges, squats, pull ups, crunches, and burpees. We never got angry with each other really, our connection went so deep we just became machines at training, one of the reasons they refer to us as “Twins,” we chased each other so thoroughly we just maintained an equal level of skill and strength.

MR: We could feel Papa’s love and pride in us as he supported us in every way, including our unusually attuned training bond. We had let him in far enough to parent us and coach us at jiu jitsu and working out and we loved him. We were socially weird kids, but we were always bigger and more athletic.

DM: In our defense we hit puberty early and were just discovering the magic of grinding our dicks together too. We really were not focused on making friends when we could be in our bedroom or on the grappling mat Papa put out in the garage for us laying all over each other dick to dick and just humping for hours.

MR: Something else we instantly used to devise ways to compete in the bedroom. Soon we were wrestling for top grinding position, seeing who could make the other one shoot first. We just kept finding new, more adventurous and exciting ways to be with each other. Papa later told us he worried our bond made us too insular, but we felt safe and loved and happy as we were. Our social worlds didn’t really open up until we met Mike and Sam.

As the boys got older and felt safe with me, and were squared away in first grade, I “went back to work.” My contemporaries at the Factory, my buddies Joel and Rahim, were back training too now that their boys were in school all day as well. We made a great training trio. Joel is a national champion freestyle wrestler. Rahim is a Golden Gloves champion boxer. And I am a Brazilian blackbelt in Gracie jiu jitsu. We can all beat each other in our primary fighting styles and we were all beginners at kick boxing when we started.

10:06 Marco_Ramirez: One of the coolest things about training on an elite team is the broad access it gives you to train across multiple combat disciplines. Joel and I first met in the freestyle seminar and we trained together for a while. I remember in pure freestyle match he could pin me and grind my load out of me way to easily and I could tie him up with my jiu jitsu and force a fuck on him way to easily, so we set about teaching each other our tricks. Rahim could beat the hell out of us at boxing at the start, but as I kept at it I got better fairly quickly, but Joel chose to follow another path. Dimitri Petrov, our Dagastani wrestling coach, needed help running the freestyle wrestling seminar after his nephew, Ruslan Maratov, decided to pursue more MMA training. I think Joel and Dimi were also having a little team romance, leaving Rahim and I alone with our training for a while. Rahim and I share a knowing smile. We both know he is not jealous about Joel, and we both know we are developing a very powerful emotional and physical attraction.

I first met Rahim at the jiu jitsu seminar I was teaching for Factory members with my fellow Brazilian, Christiano Braga, and our colleague Andre Jordan. I was wandering around the class that day, watching the dyads drill the jiu jitsu games we set up for them to play, and I saw Rahim sitting on his ass just watching. I rousted him and made him play the games with me, thinking he was just sluffing it. Turns out in addition to being a Golden Gloves champion boxer, he also wrestled in school and has trained jiu jitsu for years. Our jiu jitsu “game” quite quickly became a spar. We pulled off our t-shirts, remaining barefoot in our Factory square cut fight shorts, and went at it until we were both drenched in sweat and Ra had proven his point. I solidly beat him, but he made me work hard to do it.

10:06 Marco_Ramirez: Now that we are both much older, fathers now as well, we come back together as professional sex fighters on a mission to find our own unique integration of wrestling, boxing and martial arts to create an aggressive style of sex brawling to up our team's game in that event. As we worked on it together we became intensely attracted to each other, getting lost in our own world of masculine sexual struggle. For periods of time you would find us at any point in the day naked, in a grappling suite, fighting and fucking in a fugue state.

Time passes. All of our boys are doing well in school, getting good grades and making some friends. They are all getting very big, very fast as they grow up. They are also doing very well in their jiu jitsu classes and on their school wrestling teams. Joel and Ra’s boys have been wrestling in middle school for 2 years already, and now mine are starting their 7th grade year in school and their first year on the wrestling team. We decide to hold a BBQ at Joel and Ra’s backyard, before it gets too cold and to finally introduce our kids to each other. Everyone told us how over protective we are of what looks to everyone else as the brightest, most in shape kids they have ever seen, but we know their tender beginnings and their beautiful hearts. So at fifteen years old, Mike Anderson and Sam Rojas meet my boys who are now thirteen years old, Marco and Dom.

It was a warm fall afternoon and we had a big spread of food on the patio and a big grassy back yard to play in. We had been worried about the boys getting along, but once they hit the back yard and were grappling they immediately became thick as thieves. We wrestled with all the boys then sat on the patio watching them play together. I was impressed with how Sam and Mike were doing under their fathers’ care. They were adopted at 5 years old from a fairly rough group home, but here they are thriving and looking physically mature for their ages, just like my boys do. And, I was impressed with how Mike and Sam took Marco and Dominic under their wings. We felt comfortable going inside and talking about our futures as sex fighting parents, asking ourselves questions like “When do we tell kids we fight and fuck for a living?” We left the boys to play safely in the yard.

DM: When they go inside, Mike and Sam take us into their weight room in their garage. We can tell they look embarrassed of their fathers and are now actually curious to get to know us.

MR: Yeah, they could have been shits, but they were really nice to us. I remember how they were so impressed with how big we were. We all started lifting weights. Looking back on it I think they were a bit shy to meet us too. Even though they were 15 and we were 13, we were almost as big as they were. I think we were the sheltered kids club. Who else can they get to be like this with?

DM: That’s right, they kept having us flex with them, and didn’t we arm wrestle them too just to feel each other’s biceps?

 MR: Bro, the whole thing was foreplay. We were all flexing our muscles and getting horny and boned up until the sun started to go down, then we went back out to the back corner of the yard that was now in darkness and we wrestled.

DM: “Oh yeah, I remember wrestling! How we all smelled in our sweaty shorts and t-shirts. How shocked they were that they couldn’t just manhandle us just because they were 2 years older.

DM: They were going for the full body pin, trying to get top position to grind out our loads, but they got jiu jitsu back at them and we all rolled for that top spot too.

MR: We all got time on top to hump away at each other as we shoved our shorts down to our knees. I remember cumming with them was a revelation, but for the life of me I can't remember which one I was with lol.

DM: I can't remember either, but maybe that's because we were constantly spending weekends at each other’s houses. All we did was grind dicks for a little while. That’s also when Papa went crazy about our training.

No. That came a bit later. I remember because we knew those guys better when all our fathers geeked out and created home gym spaces to train their sons. Part of the basement became a mat room with padded walls, and the garage became quite a full gym. We had bench pressing levels of weights. Both Mike and Sam, and me and Dom were being instructed in separate, but very similar, training routines. We all clamored to train like our fathers and so here we were.

We thought our dads were competing with each other by being the best coaches or building the best home facilities, but our awareness of how we competed with Mike and Sam was just dawning. We wanted to catch up with them, be better than their equals. We took to working out as this scared vow to ourselves. I think it was the first time we took anything serious.

Yeah, this is one of our periods people began referring to us as twins, cuz we trained like identical muscle machines. We did all calisthenics once a day across from each other eye to eye, pushing each other. All repetitions in sync. We still loved “sharpening ourselves against each other,” but now we were in it as a team.

It wasn’t the only thing we took seriously during that period. Since we were doing calisthenics together and running every morning, then hitting wrestling practice after school. Head back to the garage and do some lifting. Evening jiu jitsu classes and sparring. At night, in each other’s arms, we were horny, but exhausted, so we just rubbed cock bellies between us and made out.

With our alpha energies drained off for the day, we were discovering new feelings about each other in addition to our core bond. Being in a sense teammates against Sam and Mike, and not adversaries, all the making out and grinding led to romantic feelings.

Which lead to the first time we made love instead of fucking. We played around plenty, but this was lost in our feels fucking. Intimate. Slow, but driven. And then if we had the energy, we would pound each other’s asses. And once we found this love connection we could always find our way back.

Love connection and a preternatural training work ethic made for binding sweat, big muscle growth, higher skills integration from sparring, and sweet love making at night. We would fall asleep after dinner from the exhaustion of the training day, but wake to fuck in our dreams. We become a well oiled machine with two heads.

Our confidence grows as we really kick ass in our jiu jitsu classes and with Rafa telling us how big we are getting, so we call up Mike and Sam and next thing we know we start training together. They are really happy to see us. I think we are all happy to get out from under our father's dictation of our routines and their watchful eyes.

They didn’t feel like they fit in other places because of being gay athletes with gay fathers, but it wasn't just the gay thing. Our peers didn’t understand our drive to train with excellence. Sam and Mike came to us with real desires of friendship and we soon found we were all roughly the same size and skill level and made an excellent squad of four. We all did calistheics in quadrants, aimed at each other. We lifted in different dyads every day but we all did the same routine. We were having the time of our lives being together, pushing each other, all committed to the same goal.

We also paired up in different dyads twice a day to spar jiu jitsu and train wrestling, then we get back together all four of us and do 3 vs 1 fire drills. We also played around sometimes with boxing and arm wrestling. Sometimes we sat around and all jerk off together. We were all horny for each other, but during training we kept the sex to only rubbing a mutual cum load out at the end of a spar.

Dom and I talked about it and decided to open our sexual relationship up to Sam and Mike and they agreed. They heard that Papa Rafa was going to be spending the evening at Joel and Ra's house, so they suggested they come over then. We agree, but when they arrive, they hurry us all back to their house, telling us something is going to happen that they saw the other night. Dom and I hurry with excitement.

With the boys more independent these days, training together, hanging out, it gives me a chance to enjoy some personal time with Rahim. The boys don’t know it, but Rahim and I pioneered a sex brawling style that has our younger guys tearing up the ranks and we ourselves, a few years apart, were champions in sex brawling. We have fucked each other so many times developing this style that we have become fully versatile when we play. Some nights when the boys are staying the night at Rahim and Joel’s house, Ra will come over and we will walk naked into the private, fenced in, grassy back yard in the moonlight. We’ll stroke ourselves hard and look each other up and down, then we will sex brawl. Our sculptured torsos, strong limbs and thick cocks collide and we make each other grunt and moan and sweat. We each win a round by submission and so slide our meaty cocks into each other's hard backsides and flex them. This night we are so turned on by flip fucking that we end up grinding out an explosive, mutual cum load as we howl at the moon and them make out passionately. We kiss and grind our loads and lay in the cool grass, lost in each other’s kiss.

The four of us super spies run toward the backyard, unlock the privacy gate and go up the slope to peer out from behind the hedges that look over the backyard. We watch Papas’ Rafa and Rahim square off naked, looking like athletic Gods in the dim light under the shading of the tree. Their cocks are so large and hard they can be seen clearly from this distance. They looked like playful lovers until they started fighting. We later learned it was a playful version of sex brawling they created together. These great men who raised us since childhood are locking cock horns very intensely. The fighting looks brutal, they are landing real fists and elbows, they are grappling for dollars, but their playful grunts, moans and shit talk make it feel more like they are playfully frolicking with each other.

We watch each snag a sweet submission and then watch the winner simply push his cock inside the loser and flex it, whispering things in ears we will never know. We watch a long, heated scramble and hear increasingly sexual animal noises until they lock up in half guard and seemingly grind out their mutual loads as if driven by forces they could not control. It's hard to know who won but I don’t think that matters. The four of us duck down and sneak from the hedges into the garage and sit down on the weight benches and stretching mat. Reaching for their laptop Mike and Sam say they know our fathers are champion sex fighters on something called the underground circuit. They found it online, so we all huddled around the computer sitting on the practice wrestling mat. We saw details about the underground circuit and events, fighter profiles and photos, action photos.

We were all sitting with powerfully hard boners in our shorts, all with similar ideas, I’m guessing, when Sam blurts out, “Our fathers were hot as fuck at our age!” We all laugh as Mike makes fun of Sam, “Damn, my dad just gave me a boner.” I’m reading the wiki page and it says sex fighters use wrestling, boxing and martial arts to dominate their opponents physically and sexually by forcing them to cum or by fucking them as the final act of domination. Champion sex fighters make millions. Everyone is back, hands on shorts with their manhoods, hovering around the computer and we look up current sex fighter rookies and immediately think we can do this too. We look up into the higher brackets and we still think we can do it, we just have to get bigger and start training for it now, so that when we’re that age we can be more dominant.

The four of us look at each other, thunderstruck. We all suddenly feel excited, very horny, and share a strong desire to start training immediately. We discuss amongst ourselves in committee like fashion, we have to train all the combat skills we know even harder, strength train and be as strong and athletic as possible, and we have to start sparring these sex fighting events. We have to grapple or fight until one of us can fuck the other or make him cum. We all look very seriously at each other, then as we think about it start grinning. I say, “Guys. I just watched our fathers fight and fuck in your back yard. I don’t even know what to think about how hard it made my dick watching them. And now I get to dominate and fuck the three of you?”

We all share a funny laugh because we just committed to very rough competition against each other for sexual stakes, and it feels horny and serious at the same time. We agreed to consult our fathers about how best to train now that we know and want to be sex fighters ourselves. And then we all looked at each other with these smoky eyes. We wanted to fuck so bad and just be jiu jitsu muscle brothers before this shit got serious, so we want back to our place and the new king sized bed Papa bought for us with his “millions,” and had dogpile sex all night long. Sometimes we paired off. I know we all fucked each other once as an unstated objective. Sometimes the rule was love the one you’re with, other times it was if you know who you are sucking or fucking, then you’re doing it wrong. We cemented a bond as a band of sex fighter brothers in training that is even deeper today.

Our training days with Sam and Mike are legendary for us, and we know we were all instrumental in helping each other be fully prepared for recruitment by the Factory, the elite sex fighting team with whom our fathers train. Dom and I knew we had to do one last thing ourselves to be sure we were prepared and that was an all out NHB Sex Brawl. We knew we had to test the boundaries of our primal attachment to each other out of a need to survive, making sure it doesn’t rupture as we go to war. We wait for all our fathers to be away at some convention and we plan a night to sex fight and fuck in the private, fenced in cak yard. Mike and Sam have already been recruited and assure us we are gonna be great new recruits. We invite them to watch us fight as members of our squad of four, but also because they are like brothers to us. They won't let us kill each other. We spend one more night in bed being gentle and sweet to each other, then wake up and put our game faces on. We don’t interact much, letting our aggressive alpha energies build, then meet each other at dusk naked in the backyard.

The boys don’t realize that Rahim and I have silently slipped back into the house and onto the patio to watch them, your squad of four, and this ultimate battle. Yeah, our dicks get hard as rock watching you, how well built and athletic you all are and what a great group of men you make together. Interacting with our young adult children as sex fighters will be an exciting next chapter. We watch as you step out of the shadows and face each other.

You stand across from me in the center of the grass, the private yard silent except for the wind sliding through the tall green blades. Your dark skin gleams already with the thin sheen of heat and anticipation, your chest expanding slowly, deliberately, like you are controlling every system inside yourself. I raise my arms and hit a double biceps flex, tightening everything from fist to shoulder. The muscles swell and harden under my skin, and I see your eyes track the contraction with appreciation. You answer immediately, mirroring me perfectly, your own arms rising, your biceps peaking in identical proportion. We look like reflections cast in different tones of stone. I relax, shake out my arms, and roll my neck. My legs tense and release, quads hardening into ridged slabs, then loosening again. You do the same, in perfect synchronization. Our cocks are fully engorged and muscled up as they point like thick poles at each other.

You move exactly when I move, like you’re inside my nervous system. When you hit the most muscular pose, shoulders rounding forward, traps climbing toward your ears, everything compresses into raw density. Your chest tightens, abs cutting deep, and I feel respect surge through me. I answer with the same pose, compressing every fiber. The sweat begins early, drawn out by intensity, coating us both in a faint shimmer. I shake my legs out, quads snapping tight like steel cables. My cock aggressively eager to cross swords with yours. You nod once. No words. No need. We already know. We step forward together.

You come into range and your jab snaps toward my chin. I slip just enough that it grazes my cheekbone, fast, precise. I answer with my own jab, knuckles cracking against your jaw. Your head turns slightly, but your stance never breaks. You return with a right cross, and it lands clean across my cheek, sending a flash of white across my vision. I grin, steadying myself. Your mechanics are perfect. “Beautiful,” I say under my breath. I step in with a tight uppercut, driving upward into your ribs. Your abs tighten instantly, absorbing the blow, muscles flexing hard against my knuckles. My cock flexes as it bounces between my big thighs.

Your uppercut drives into my core, and I feel the strength in your arm, the structural integrity of it. You’re solid. You’re stronger than you were last year. I fire a jab-cross combination, the jab touching your eye, the cross slamming into your cheek with a satisfying thud. You absorb it and answer with your own right cross that cracks against my jaw. My vision jolts, but I stabilize instantly. I nod once. “Sharp,” I tell you. You circle left. I mirror you. Always mirrored.

You throw a looping roundhouse punch, your torso twisting violently, but I lean just outside its arc, feeling the wind of it brush my face. I counter with a straight right that lands flush on your nose. Blood appears immediately, a thin line. You don’t react except to tighten your stance. Your eyes lock onto mine, focused, calm. I admire your composure even as I step closer, closing distance deliberately. My cock already feels like it’s fucking your pretty brown ass.

Your punch lands clean, and I taste iron. I smile through it. You earned that. I drive forward and throw an uppercut that catches you under the eye. Your head snaps slightly, and I see the bruise forming already. You nod in approval. You always approve. We always approve. There’s no ego here. Only proof and big dicks.

I step in suddenly and drop my level. My arms wrap around your leg and shoulder in one smooth motion. You react instantly, but I’m already turning. I load you across my shoulders in a fireman’s carry, your weight heavy but familiar. Your muscles tighten against me, resisting, but I drive through anyway. I rotate and throw you forward. You hit the grass hard, the impact sending vibrations up through my legs.

The ground slams into my back, knocking air from my lungs, but I recover instantly, rolling with the momentum. You’re already on top of me, pressing forward, sweat dripping from your chest onto mine. Your muscles gleam, defined, controlled. I wrap my legs around your waist and lock you into my guard. You try to posture up, but I pull you down, controlling your head.

Your guard locks tight around me, your legs like hydraulic clamps. You fire a short elbow that clips my temple. I answer with a punch to your ribs, feeling the dense resistance of your core. You shift your hips suddenly and throw your leg over my shoulder, attempting a triangle choke. Your thigh presses against my neck, tightening. I feel the pressure building. “Strong,” I breathe, forcing my posture upright. I drive forward and break the angle, slipping my head free.

You escape cleanly. I transition immediately, isolating your arm and swinging my hips for an arm bar attempt. Your arm stretches, tension pulling through the joint, but you rotate perfectly, slipping free before full extension. You move like I move. You always have. You circle around my legs, trying to pass my guard. I reach for your wrist and rotate my hips again, searching for control.

I push your leg aside and slide into side control. Your body is slick now, sweat making everything harder to grip. I isolate your arm and begin setting up a Kimura. I crank slowly, testing your defense. Your muscles flex violently as you resist, rotating your torso, escaping before I can finish it. You turn suddenly and scramble to your knees.

I feel your arm slip around my neck as you try to secure a rear naked choke. Your forearm presses against my throat, your bicep compressing one side, your forearm the other. The pressure builds fast. Your strength is undeniable. But I tuck my chin, grab your wrist, and peel it away. I turn into you, reversing position. We’re both breathing harder now. More aggressive. More urgent. Our cocks throb with intentionality.

You mount me and drive punches downward. One lands on my cheek, another on my eye. I answer with elbows from below, slamming into your ribs. You absorb them and continue. Your muscles flex with every strike, every movement precise and efficient. I trap your arm and roll, reversing position. We scramble again. No wasted motion. Only instinct. Only the alpha masculine desire to dominate and fuck.

You break away suddenly and stand. I follow instantly. We circle again, now switching into kickboxing range. You throw a low kick that slams into my thigh. The muscle absorbs it, but I feel the shock. I answer with my own kick, landing across your ribs. Your torso tightens, absorbing it. You step forward and throw a jab-cross combination that snaps my head back. I smile through the blood. “Perfect,” I say and flex my dick.

You explode forward suddenly, dropping levels and driving into me with a double leg takedown. Your shoulder slams into my hips, and I feel myself lifted and thrown backward. I hit the ground hard. You follow instantly, mounting me and throwing punches and elbows with controlled fury. One elbow splits the skin above my eye. Blood runs down into my vision. I answer with punches from below. We keep going. Harder. Faster. Relentless.

Your fists slam into my ribs, your elbows crashing into my side. Pain builds everywhere now. My nose bleeds freely. Your eye swells. But neither of us slows. We’re proving it now. Proving everything. You reverse me again. We trade punches on the ground. Back and forth. Back and forth. Neither yielding. Out of the darkness come Sam and Mike, pulling us apart and laying us side by side in the grass on our backs.

I collapse onto my back in the grass beside you. My chest heaves, lungs dragging in air. Blood and sweat coat my skin. My muscles twitch with exhaustion and adrenaline. My cock rolls like a log on my rippling, sweaty abs. I turn my head and look at you. You’re breathing just as hard. Just as destroyed. Just as strong.

“You’re ready,” I say quietly.

 I stare up at the sky, chest rising and falling violently. Every part of me aches. Every part of me feels alive. I turn my head toward you.

“So are you.”

We lie there side by side, identical in damage. Identical in strength. Identical in will.

Despite the stabbing pain that jolts through our bodies from the broken ribs, we manage to roll towards each other and begin licking the sweat off each other’s faces, like cats. Our mouths soon find each other and our right hands find our cocks and we lay there kissing sweetly and slowly jerking our sex fighter in training cocks. We both feel a sturdiness in ourselves now that we have fought balls to the walls. A mature sense that our bond is indeed unbreakable.

Rafa’s Twins.