Page 41 of Enemies with Benefits
"Go to hell!"
As I expected, he was getting more aggressive with each comment, each time I used the sarcastic, condescending tone that had always gotten on his nerves. If it wasn't for the fact that my words were making him come at me a lot harder than before, I might have marveled at how things between us had changed so little. We should have been, in theory, different people, with the years between now and the last time we'd seen one another—some changes, some growth. Yet here we were, continuing the bitter rivalry we'd fostered in our teens like it was an old familiar game.
"It's okay to admit you like me," I said with a snort, dodging under the next blow and going low. Jace immediately responded by putting his arms together and shoving me back, putting both of us at a safe distance, and leaving me to consider how to approach the next round of jabs and punches.
"Everything's a fucking joke to you, isn't it?” he asked with a huff. "Was that what you really brought me here for? To prove you can piss me off like you used to?"
"Jesus, really? Because if that was the case, I would have had my proof back at the hotel," I said, pivoting into his space and jabbing, trying to put him on the defensive. Anger made him sloppy, but being put on the defensive was a good way to create a lot of openings for me. "Being pissed because I said something comes as naturally to you as breathing."
"Maybe try being less of a bastard," he said, locking his arm around my neck and jabbing my exposed side while I protected my gut.
He was a little bigger than me, but not so big that I wasn't able to dig my heels into the mat and shove him into the post in one corner of the ring. I have no idea how he didn't see that coming, he should have expected I’d try something like that, considering my limited options. Well, then again, when was the last time he'd fought someone in a ring? And for that matter, he was an unusually large man, and big men like him weren't used to opponents who could contend with their size, strength, and weight.
That gave me enough time to yank out of his arm, jabbing at his face as I backed up to get my bearings. He was clearly not ready to let me have my space, probably knowing that giving me time to think was a bad idea. If I could think, I could plan, but more importantly, thinking meant I could find ways to turn the screws and drive him even crazier.
"That's ripe," I grunted, twisting and bending to block his blows. "You calling someone a bastard. We're both assholes, I just have the self-awareness to admit it. You still like to think of yourself as this golden boy who hasn't been discovered yet. Let it go already, Jace. You're a prick and you're always going to be a prick!"
"Shut the fuck up!” he all but snarled as he rushed me, his swings strong but wild. "You might have everyone else willing to put up with your shit, but I'm not! Arrogant bastard. You've got a whole great family, had a good life, and you still act like you've got an excuse for your dickhead behavior."
"Is that," I began with a grunt, barely catching one of his hooks before it caught me. It was enough of a blow that I felt it vibrate along my upper body and send a ripple of pain afterit, "what you think? Damn, I'm going to have to take back that comment about you knowing me pretty well."
"Stop talking!” he said and rushed me.
I sidestepped, sticking out my foot and reaching to grab his shoulder so I could fling him over my leg and send him flying into the post. "Get over yourself, Jace. The difference between us isn't the fact that you grew up poor, with shitty parents, and I grew up with a dead dad, a crazy family, and a hotel as a home. You're an arrogant asshole with anger issues, and I'm an arrogant asshole with my own anger issues. But the real difference is that at some point, you decided there has to be a reason for everything. That's why you feel this need to wrap yourself up in an image of what you should be; that way, you can say you beat all the reasons that made you an angry asshole. But you know what? There is no reason. We choose to be these people every fucking day, and until you figure that out and stop hanging onto bullshit like it's important when there's actual important shit to worry about, you aren't going to be happy. And if you can't be happy, how thefuckare you going to be a positive part of my nephew's life?"
There was no response as he got on his hands and knees. I could see the way his body went taut, and I knew what was about to happen. Admittedly, knowing that didn't do a whole lot to help me when he finally flung himself at me. Yet, even knowing what he was going to do before he launched himself, I hadn't been as prepared for the sheer force as he surged forward.
The wind was knocked out of me even though I managed to brace at the last second for the blow, which meant I probably prevented something far worse from happening. I managed to keep from immediately holding onto him and slamming my arms onto the mat to take some of the force as I went down hard, his weight bearing down on me. With a snarl, I punched him in the side of the head, no longer caring that this was originallysupposed to be a 'friendly' match. He had gone for significant damage with that slam, padded, shock absorbing mat or not, that had hurt like hell, and that was with me mitigating the possible damage.
I didn't know how, but at some point, the glove on my fist was yanked off as we flailed against one another, both grappling to get the other under control. With my fist free, however, I didn't hesitate to punch him in the side of the head, only being reminded of how bad an idea that was when pain wrapped its claws around my hand as I yanked it back with a hiss. Thankfully, I'd hit him in a soft place, so it didn't feel like I'd broken anything, but I had definitely caused him enough pain to loosen his hold and let me wrap my legs around him to try to wrestle him onto his side so I could get a better angle to attack.
"Fucking fists? Seriously?” he snarled, trying to yank one of his gloves off, so I had to grapple with his arms to not only keep him from pinning me, but from getting the glove off and making him more dangerous. And although it wasn't easy to think clearly, I still knew that both fights were ones I wanted to win and come out on top completely, but in the end, I could only pick one to win, so I didn't lose both.
My decision was made as I snapped my limbs around to make sure he didn't find an easy grip on me that I wouldn't be able to break. Of course, that meant the next instant I felt a fist slam into my face, and I grunted, the vision of his angry face swimming in front of me. I didn't let that stop me, however, and I held tight, wiggling my leg under him and shoving my knee into his side. I didn't know if he had been expecting a shove instead, or maybe for me to wrap my leg around him, but he gave a grunt of surprise and recoiled from the blow.
That was all I needed to give him another shove and get him off balance, and I went with him, trying to get a better hold. Of course, he took the opportunity to drive his fist into my gut,which was already tight and kept me from losing my breath again. However, it still hurt like a son of a bitch as I retaliated by shoving my forearm into his neck and pressing down, hoping the lack of oxygen might convince him to stop jabbing at my exposed side.
I ended up straddling his waist as we continued to grapple. There was precisely zero grace, skill, or thought in our actions, just a brutal fight to beat the other. It was like the past years hadn't passed at all, with the two of us quickly devolving into grunting neanderthals whose only thoughts were how to best the other in the most brutal fashion imaginable.
From an outside perspective, I was sure we looked like a weird pair of Siamese twins as our bodies meshed, pushed, and wriggled against each other. It certainly had the effect of making sure I was focused on what was happening in the moment rather than anything else. Bruising flesh mashed against flesh, blood leaked from broken lips and bashed noses, and sweat coated our skin as we fought and squirmed. The only sounds were grunts, groans, and the occasional muttered curse out of frustration or pain.
At one point, he moved so I was partially between his legs, one of his legs wrapped around my back while the other was wrapped around one of my legs. That just left our hands and arms, resulting in an even more hectic mess as we pushed and ground against each other for the slightest advantage. My only thought was the desire to get the better of him and not let him win another goddamn fight.
Until a sudden push from his hips in an attempt to buck me off sent an unexpected jolt through my middle and made my next blow go wide rather than connect with his jaw, which would have been my attempt to end the fight in one blow. Where my mind had been locked onto the fight and my focus on winning,now I became aware of facts my mind had missed or just ignored.
First, which was obvious when he ground against me for leverage, was the fact that I was hard enough that if we weren't thrashing around, it would have hurt. That would have been confusing and irritating on its own, considering the person my dick was getting interested in. More interesting was the fact thatJacewas just as hard. The third interesting fact was that despite my middle school attempts at riling him up and calling him peanut, and pencil dick, that wasclearlynot the case.
Finally, I had to believe that Jace had no idea what was going on because the man, who was horrified at the mere mention of gayness around him, continued to grind against me. The result was that now, instead of just pain and determination, I was experiencing constant zings and jolts of pleasure that were distracting me from the fight, and in the most fucked up new development, feeding into it as well.
For a few moments, I was left hanging in a state of disbelief and indecision, only keeping him at bay because I’d had an advantage before my attention had been torn away. All his squirming and pushing against me surely had to be something he realized was...causing both our predicaments. Yet he continued doing it, apparently unaware of what was going on.
That was until he nearly succeeded in bucking me off, which would have sent me sprawling and left me vulnerable, and I was forced to snap back into the moment and fight him off again. The result was me pushing my body forward, grinding into him, and making me grit my teeth as the sudden pleasure mingled strangely with the surge of anger and frustration. At the same time, I felt my stomach twist as I saw his eyes widen, he grunted, and his grip loosened briefly.
I had a moment of clarity, knowing that after this, I was seriously going to wonder what had come over me. Then it wasgone as the combination of anger and twisting pleasure inside brought forth an insane yet irresistible idea. He was completely off-guard, and before I could question just how good an idea it was, I gripped his momentarily slack arms and pushed my hips down.
His eyes widened even further, and I felt my lips pull up in a smirk when I felt his body go taut, and a surprised noise ofpleasureleft his lips. Even better, when I repeated the motion, his hips twitched, as if unable to decide whether he wanted to jerk away or push up into me. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, consequences be damned, and I did it again. This time, the pleasure was even clearer, and I watched his eyes flutter for half a second before he tried to grab me again.
"Fucking…" he hissed, trying to reach up and grab my face.
