Page 53 of Love of the Egoist
The smaller man launched forward with a combo of fast strikes to his opponent’s torso, aiming for his solar plexus, liver, and floating ribs. His low kick tried to reach the back of Greg’s knee.
Greg shifted, evading the kick. His hands moved with enormous speed for someone of his size, repelling the attack. With a stony expression, he went for a counterblow. His heavy forearm aimed for the middle of Kuon’s biceps, seeking his pain point, trying to paralyze Kuon’s arm. Kuon raised his hand in a block. Greg’s assault skid along Kuon’s toned muscles toward his shoulder, without doing any serious damage. Kuon had to step back.
The strikes, reaching the skin, left red, swollen marks on half-naked bodies. Sweat trickled down Kuon’s spine, painting the denim fabric on his waist deep blue. Yugo saw his stomach slightly rising in a controlled breath. His eyes, glutted with attention, glued to Greg’s.
One part in Yugo wanted to demand an explanation, but curiosity took over. He wanted to see Kuon in action, wanted to see this beautiful body in the heat of combat, radiating threat. His arms crossed his chest.
Kuon changed his guard, raising his arms higher, protecting his throat where Greg had been aiming in his last lash, then adjusted the distance. His attack strategy altered to a series of high and low kicks. But his opponent had the reputation of one of the best fighters in Yugo’s milieu. He shifted left. Yugo jerked when a powerful kick hit the lower segment of Kuon’s left lung, throwing the detective back to the mirrored wall. Kuon gripped his middle and collapsed on his knees; his body shaking with a suffocating coughing.
Blood left Yugo’s face. He inched forward wanting to interrupt, but Greg approached Kuon first and outstretched his open hand. The smile playing on his brutish face was an unknown expression for Yugo. Kuon, gasping for air, returned the cheerful smile and put his own hand in Greg’s.
“You are opening your torso too much. Keep your elbows lower. My attack forced you to protect your throat, leaving your body unshielded. Keep your focus on my middle, don’t look in my eyes, don’t look for my movements. You are trying to predict them. Don’t. Let your instincts take over. Look for openings, opportunities. Leave your reflex for defense; use your brain for an attack. Wanna try again?” The bulky man pulled Kuon upright. In a second, the detective stood on his feet touching Greg’s shoulder with his bare chest.
Blood rushed in Yugo’s head, hazing his vision with a heavy veil of jealousy and anger. Drums pounded in his ears and in his throat, echoing in his fingertips when he stepped forward. He didn’t see two fighting studs anymore. He saw one stud wooing his bitch.
“Get out!” he growled; annihilating, relentless flames grilling his heart.
“Yugo, when did you return?” Kuon smiled, oblivious to the Yugo’s mood. He picked up a towel from the floor and wiped the sweat streaming down his red, glowing face.
“Who the fuck gave you permission to leave the bedroom?” Yugo said, approaching what he considered his property.
“Come on… I can’t sit still for twenty-four hours a day.” Kuon smiled again, his eyes shimmering with warm sparks; his movements usually lithe, now fluid with warmed up muscles and accelerated blood flow.
“You belong to me, and you will obey. You will do only what I allow you to,” Yugo asserted in relentless voice. The itch to hurt Kuon has never been this overwhelming. At that moment, more than ever, he wanted to break Kuon, force him to submit, make him beg for mercy.
“Why are you angry? I didn’t do anything wrong. If you are afraid that I’ll try to bolt, I give you my word that I won’t make any attempts on my way here and back, as well as during the training,” Kuon reasoned. The good mood vanished. Incomprehension and resentment bled through, wrenching his facial muscles in a bitter grimace.
“Of course you won’t,” Yugo snapped, grasped Kuon’s shoulders and yanked him closer. His gaze fixed on the deep pools of Kuon’s eyes. “Because you will never leave the confines of my bedroom again.”
“I’m sick of your egoism.” Kuon exploded. His jaw tightened, and he crushed Yugo’s cheek with his fist; his knuckles connecting to the cheekbone with a soft meaty noise.
For a second, everything dimmed, and roaring pain bloomed in his head. The side of his face inflamed, then throbbed. Yugo stepped backward to the door, to contain the pain, but lost his balance.
“I hate it. I hate you! You treat me worse than a dog. You fuck me every now and then, and after you’re done, you put me back into a cupboard. I’m not your fuck-toy!”
Yugo wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and got up from the floor. His vision failed for a second. His heart thundered in his throat as he hurled forward, counterattacking. Throwing fast punches to Kuon’s torso, he aimed at his breastbone and the sides of Kuon’s arms, trying to avoid harming Kuon, but willing to hurt him anyway. Yugo’s motions light and fast; even his white suit, tailored in a thick fabric, wasn’t able to hinder his movements. He attacked again and two blows, hitting their mark, threw Kuon a few steps back.
Kuon bent down, rubbing his hurting chest. His lungs expulsed air, spitting it back in husky tones.
“How I treat you is up to me to decide. You have no right to complain. You are my prisoner, and your life is in my hands. You are not my lover, you are not a pet, you are a thing and you should have already learned your fucking place long ago,” Yugo hissed with barely contained rage.
“Then treat me like a fucking thing! Why the fuck are you prying in to my feelings, you bastard?” The dispassionate mask cracked and fell down, exposing Kuon’s disappointment and hurt. He picked up the towel and stormed past the stunned Yugo.
“I haven’t excused you yet,” Yugo stated. His palm hit the surface of the door forcing it back into the frame.
“I hate you…” Kuon blurted out as strong hands shoved his body around.
“I know,” Yugo whispered back and covered Kuon’s mouth with his own.
CHAPTER 16
“KUON, WHAT ARE YOUR DREAMS ABOUT?”The thick cloud of smoke rushed out of Yugo’s mouth along with the question and vanished in the air. He sat on the warm rubber floor, leaning back against the wooden door. Kuon’s head rested on his lap, and Yugo’s long aristocratic fingers slowly ruffled his soft flyaway hair.
“Why do you care about my dreams?” Kuon replied, still feeling adrenaline throbbinginhis veins. He didn’t expect Yugo’s words to wound him that deep.
This was confusing, wrong, painful.
He didn’t expect to be this vulnerable to simple words. And the gentle hand, caressing his hair, stirred his mixed emotions even more.
