JiminQueens2's blog

“Alexa, pause timer,” Ryan said. He looked over at Johnny. “What’s the idea?”

“Last round coming up,” Johnny said shortly, then held up the gloves. “How about we lose these?”

Ryan stared at him. “What, you mean bareknuck it?” he asked in a surprised voice.

“Sure,” Johnny replied. “Just the way we never got to do when we were kids.”

Ryan looked at the man across the ring from him. Johnny’s face was calm and unreadable. But it was clear that he really wanted to do this. And, to his surprise, Ryan knew that he wanted to do it, too.

“Fine,” he said. He lifted one glove to his mouth and detached the Velcro with his teeth, then trapped the glove between his arm and his body and pulled it off. With one hand free, it was easy to remove the other one. Johnny was doing the same across the ring. Ryan made a show of tossing his gloves aside, and Johnny, smiling, tossed his – right past Ryan’s head.

“Alexa, resume timer!” Ryan said. To Johnny, he said, “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Oh, I know when to quit,” Johnny smiled back. “When I’ve put the other guy down and he stays down, I quit beating on him.”

“Must not happen too often, then.”

“Almost happened a few minutes ago, I think.”

“’Almost’ doesn’t count, asshole. Let’s fucking do this.”

Their naked fists raised and ready, the two bruised, battered men moved toward each other to finish their battle, their bodies glistening with sweat and the smell of their exertion permeating the room. Where they had thrown punches with abandon in the previous rounds, now, with no protection on their hands, they were more cautious. It was a long minute before Ryan finally threw a jab that fell a little short, and Johnny threw one in response that Ryan slipped to the right.

They lunged in at the same time, and their heads collided in an inadvertent mutual headbutt. Dazed and stunned, they held onto each other for support, their fists taking the opportunity to punish each other’s ribs and stomachs. Johnny thought about bringing up a knee, but thought better of it. This was a boxing match, after all…

But then Ryan slammed a hard forearm into Johnny’s jaw, and Johnny decided that boxing was out the window. A knee came up hard into the pit of Ryan’s stomach, and Ryan gasped in pain and shoved Johnny off.

The two men circled, their fists up but every other weapon on their body ready to strike if necessary. Something curious began to happen; it was as if thirty years were draining away from the two men, and they were once again the two schoolboys who hated each other in high school but never had an opportunity to settle matters man-to-man.

They leaped at each other, collided, and fell down to the mat in a tangle of arms and legs. Over and over they rolled, wrestling, their fists hammering whatever they could find. Every bit of humiliation Johnny had felt for three years was boiling over inside him, while Ryan was fighting for what felt like his life and the imagined insult that had started the whole business in the first place.

Johnny, his back on the mat, got a foot between him and Ryan and flipped the man over him to land flat on his own back. The two men got slowly to their feet and went for each other again, their fists flying. All pretense of a boxing match was gone now; this was a schoolyard fist fight, and wild punches flew between the two of them, inflicting more bruises, and drawing some blood.

Ryan smashed a hard fist into the side of Johnny’s face, and Johnny felt a couple of teeth loosen even as he saw Ryan shaking his hand in pain. Johnny responded by driving a knee into Ryan just north of the border, and Ryan doubled over, gasping, giving Johnny the opportunity to land an uppercut that snapped Ryan’s head back.

Johnny, his own hand aching from the unaccustomed impact, rushed Ryan, wrapping his strong arms around Ryan’s ribcage. He began to squeeze, and Ryan’s grunts became yells as his ribs were crushed in the other man’s grasp. Johnny noticed, with some surprise, that both of them had become aroused during the fight, as his manhood pressed against Ryan’s through the thin material of the briefs they were wearing.

Ryan, on the other hand, was frantic to find a way to escape the hold. He twisted and turned, and he and Johnny staggered back and forth across the mat, with Johnny’s grip becoming increasingly unstable. Finally, Ryan managed to get an arm free. He landed two short punches right in Johnny’s unprotected face, which was now reddened with extertion and abuse, and he felt Johnny’s grip loosen even more. He got his hand under Johnny’s chin and pushed up and forward, forcing Johnny’s head back until he was staring at the ceiling.

Johnny was desperately trying to keep his arms locked around Ryan’s back, but Ryan was forcing him back and back and his fingers and shoulders began to ache. He finally released his grip – but his arms were far apart and his hands were down. He was wide open, and Ryan was there before he could get his guard up.

A right hook impacted Johnny’s face and disfigured his jaw for a split-second. A left hook to the body doubled him over, and then Ryan grabbed Johnny’s hair, yanked his head up, and delivered a solid right cross to the face that sent Johnny down to the mat.

Ryan, unsteady on his feet, waited for Johnny to get up and continue the fight. He poked Johnny experimentally with one toe, but the only response was a low moan from the beaten man. He dropped down to his knees and grabbed Johnny by the hair, pulling his head up to face him. “Are you done?” he asked sharply.