Page 10 of Coming for the Champion
“Be more specific.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting, as Rory clung on to his own cock. It was long, like Rory’s height, just as his own was thicker, and the way the head was glistening with Rory’s seed made it difficult to keep his gaze on Rory’s face. He expected Rory to demand a kiss or for Malcolm to drop to his knees and suck him. Rory breathed in deep, his chest expanding highlighting all his muscles. Unlike Malcolm, who’d sat behind a desk for the last decade, Rory still looked fighting fit, all glorious muscle, lean with powerful shoulders and biceps and chest muscles that would absorb the impact of a rival’s fists. He wanted to bite them, to tug at Rory’s nipples and see what reaction he got, to see if he could make Rory’s pale skin flush everywhere and leave possessive marks. He wanted to be selfish and keep this display all to himself, and if he had to get down on his knees on the hard wooden floor of Tommy and Gloria’s hotel to do it, he would.
“I want your weight on me. I want to be fucked hard enough to feel it tomorrow. I—”
Malcolm blinked, surprised by the request and yet heat flushed through his body like an inferno because he absolutely wanted the same. He wanted Rory sprawled naked on the bed as he fucked him until he came. Rory’s eyes became hard like jewels, although no jewel was that amber brown colour.
“Please.”
It was the please that completely did Malcolm in and he reached up to grab Rory by the shoulders, pausing to brush his finger over the scar on his lip, heat flourishing on his palms as he touched Rory’s skin, and he pushed him towards the bed. Rory fought back a little, pressing against him and kissing him, as they moved together like the way they might have skirted around each in the ring but this time with their hips grinding together, until Rory’s legs hit the bed. Malcolm almost stumbled and Rory broke the kiss with a smile.
“Yes, like that.” His voice had deepened into a rasp, sending more flames into Malcolm’s chest.
Malcolm shoved Rory. Hard. The man fell backwards, sprawled on the bed, his cock bouncing, but best of all, Rory’s smile grew. Then he lifted his hand and beckoned, almost as if to say ‘come and get me’, like he might have in the ring. It was cocky and confident and made Malcolm remember how it felt to be the one that everyone wanted to beat. Malcolm undid his breeches, freeing his cockstand.
“You want this?” he asked. It was incongruous that Rory had gone from a timid shaking mess outside to this display of need, and yet it made sense if Rory was trying to wrestle back control over this moment in his life.
“Yes.” Rory lifted up his knees, and spread his legs wide, inviting Malcolm.
“Do you have oil?”
“It doesn’t matter. I want this.” Rory licked his lips, but Malcolm shook his head. He wasn’t about to hurt anyone not even if Rory begged for it.
“Use your spit. Come on...” Rory pleaded and damn it, Malcolm couldn’t help rake his gaze over the way Rory writhed on the bed, and then damn it, the man slid his hands down over his cock and used his fingers to open himself up. Malcolm stopped thinking and grabbed Rory’s knees, pulling him to theedge of the bed. He pushed Rory’s hands out of the way and lined himself up. The first touch of skin against skin was so hot and Rory’s knees were shaking under his hands that he almost reared backwards, but Rory pushed against his prick, and he slid inside.
“Yes. All the way, do it. Now.” Rory babbled and the last vestige of doubt fled. Rory felt so good. He was the perfect combination of relaxed—so Malcolm didn’t have to force his thick cock inside—and deliciously tight around him that heat traversed over his skin. He slid his hands down Rory’s thighs and gripped his hips.
“Harder.” For someone who’d wanted to be smothered, Rory sure was bossy about it. And noisy. The man was letting out filthy noises, ones that created a little panic. What if someone heard them? Malcolm leaned over Rory and kissed him, mostly to shut him up, and also because kissing him seemed to be the perfect thing to do. Rory wrapped his long legs around Malcolm’s back, using his heels to indicate the rhythm that he wanted from Malcolm. He slid his hands up Rory’s sides, and along his arms, then used his weight to hold Rory’s elbows and press him into the bed, all while fucking him at the speed Rory was begging for. Rory’s cries and moans didn’t abate, but their kiss muffled them, and Malcolm could feel his eyes starting to roll in his head as pleasure overtook his body. He broke the kiss and buried his head in Rory’s shoulder as he came. Harder than he had in a long time, and Rory’s body shuddered underneath him as he came too. They lay there, just breathing for longer than Malcolm might have imagined was possible.
“I understand why they call you The Colossus.” Rory kissed him on the cheek and suddenly Malcolm was aware that he was heavy.
“Am I too heavy?”
“No. You are perfectly thick. You filled me up.”
What nonsense. “One semi-decent fuck has you waxing lyrical?”
Rory scoffed. “Fine. If that’s what you think, but just know that it was exactly what I needed.”
“And what was that?” Malcolm shouldn’t be so curious about this.
“To feel alive again.” Rory turned his face away, but with Malcolm’s weight still on him, Rory couldn’t turn far enough to disguise the shock on his face, as if he’d said too much. Malcolm’s heart skipped a beat and he wanted to brush his thumb under Rory’s eyes but he couldn’t. They’d only just met. Today? Yes. He never lost control like this, always aware of his surroundings and the impact of what other people thought of him and how he took up so much space.
“We’d better get cleaned up.” Malcolm pushed himself off Rory and stood up. His clothes were covered in Rory’s come and he was definitely going to need a decent reason to ask Tommy and Gloria for clean clothes. His fingers shook as he tried to undo his buttons.
“I’m sorry.” Rory bounced to his feet and tried to help Malcolm. “Please let me help. I’m the one who asked you to do this with your clothes on. I made this mess.”
He didn’t need help, so he batted Rory’s hands away. “I can undo my own goddamn buttons.” His shake wasn’t usually this bad.
“I know you can.” Rory stepped back and waited, and Malcolm breathed out. The worst part of his problem was not the shakes themselves but when people didn’t listen to him. Rory listened, and suddenly it was easier to undo his buttons and slid off his jacket. He focused on the task so he didn’t have to think about what all this might mean.
Chapter 9
Watching Malcolm struggle to undo his own buttons broke Rory’s heart in a way that hurt more than standing outside the boxing shed inhaling the familiar scents of his glory days while being assaulted with the memories of his final match. He understood pride and if Malcolm didn’t want help, then he certainly wasn’t going to override what he’d said. He hadn’t wanted help when he couldn’t walk inside that building either, but here he was... naked and satisfied and ... Rory breathed out slowly as a rising heat flushed terribly through his veins. He had let his desperation not to be seen, to avoid his fears, take over and now he was naked in front of his idol.
“I should go.” He needed to get away from here now. He grabbed his clothes, shoving them onto his body, ignoring the aches that should be pleasant but now only reminded him of his failings.
“Where?”
Somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. He couldn’t look at The Colossus, couldn’t allow Malcolm to see his shame. He was, like his rival, too proud.
