Page 14 of Coming for the Champion
“How on earth did you become a champion when you are so willing to forgive your enemies?” Tommy asked.
“Bennington isn’t my enemy. His father is my father’s rival.” Rory shook his head. “Would you claim that Malcolm is an extension of this Duke you both talk about?”
“I would never.”
“Then you understand. I am not motivated by revenge. I want the people who rely on my land for survival to have an income and a good life. I want to build something for them.”
“And for you.” Malcolm had spent his life surrounded by the rich and their trinkets. He didn’t believe such selflessness existed among their ilk.
“Yes. I’m a fighter. I like to win. A win for my people is a win for me.” Rory’s face lit up with an energy that Malcolm admired, there was a passion here that was more than just a selfish rich man. This complex man intrigued him more than he ought. “Politics is not my game, and honestly I’m not sure I’m enough of a businessman to run a coal mining enterprise either. I didn’t listen to my father’s pearls of wisdom on business when I was young. I was too busy skipping school to train in the ring.”
Malcolm was likely the most foolish man in the world at this moment because all he could think about was a partnership between the two of them. His work at Sotheby’s might have been focused on assessing items for auction but it’d given him a good basis of understanding how the world of the rich worked. Hehad managed projects where entire estates had to be assessed and readied for sale, dealing with the admin of that, the political interplay of the various buyers and maybe, just maybe some of those skills would be useful for Rory. Oh, what was he thinking? One good fuck and he’d lost all his common sense. Rory wouldn’t want a partnership with him, would he?
Chapter 11
Rory had admitted the reason why he was in town and so far, the world hadn’t collapsed. Now that it’d been said he wasn’t even sure why he’d been so reluctant to speak about it, like the whole thing had built up in his mind into something huge and impossible until he couldn’t start and now it was out there it seemed much smaller and easier to overcome.
The rest of dinner passed with light conversation, reminiscing of the good days when The Colossus had ruled the ring, and everyone politely ignored his own career. It was nice to be surrounded by people who knew and who didn’t push him, but it was also tinged with a little sadness that he couldn’t relive the good fights and his own glory days without the taint of his last time in a ring. Grief for what might have been added a fog to everything that had gone before. He didn’t regret his past or that one match, no one could’ve predicted the outcome, but he wasn’t quite sure how to put it all in context.
“Stay the night,” Gloria said. “It’s too dark to take horses out now, and we’ve already readied rooms for you.”
Rory nodded. He’d been drifting off for the last hour, half-listening to Tommy and Malcolm, half exhausted from the day’s fluctuating emotions. The table had long since been cleared by the hotel’s maids, so it was the easiest thing in the world to follow everyone up the stairs to his room. Everyone said their goodnights and once Tommy and Gloria had gone through their door, Malcolm leaned in close.
“Let me in.” His whisper grazed over Rory’s skin like a touch. Rory nodded, then pushed open the door. Once it clicked shut behind them, Rory opened his mouth to ask about the sheets in Malcolm’s room. Wouldn’t his friends know if he hadn’t slept in his room? But he couldn’t speak because Malcolm was kissinghim. And not just the desperate kiss from earlier today; this was a gentle kiss that tasted like beginnings and forever. It was romantic. He broke away.
“Are you wooing me?”
“Would you like that?”
Yes. Yes he would. “I don’t need that. We’ve already fucked.” He’d rather fuck than admit he might be losing his heart to The Colossus. He wanted to know everything about this complicated man who stood up to his friend and who looked so sad and yet so keen when talking about his job, like there was some puzzle that Rory didn’t understand. And he needed to understand, much more than was his right to know after such a short time together.
“It’s only fair.”
“What?” Rory was confused.
“I gave you what you needed. Now it’s time to give me what I need.”
He blinked. Pretending it was a transaction might help calm his stupid heart, and Malcolm had certainly delivered on his end of it. He shivered at the memory of Malcolm’s heavy hot body crushing him. Could he get that again?
“What do you need, Malcolm?”
“I need you to worship me with your mouth.”
Rory sank to his knees. He could do that, but Malcolm tugged at his hair. Heat flooded his veins at the way Malcolm’s huge hands gripped his hair.
“Not like that, or rather not right away. I want your mouth everywhere.”
He stood up, running his hands up Malcolm’s thighs and torso over the wool of his jacket, slowly undoing the buttons until he could push the garment off Malcolm’s broad shoulders. His shirt still had the remnant of Rory’s seed from before dinner and was surely uncomfortable, but the thought of Malcolmsitting through dinner with the evidence of their last coupling hidden from his friend made Rory’s skin sizzle with heat.
He bent his head to kiss Malcolm, using touch to guide him, as the room was lit by only two small candles and the dark of night enveloped them both. Together they walked towards the bed and the source of light on the bedside table, and as they walked, Rory finished undoing the buttons on Malcolm’s shirt. He pushed the linen aside and gave Malcolm what he’d asked for. He dragged his lips over Malcolm’s jaw, loving the roughness from his evening stubble, and down his throat. Malcolm hummed softly, and so Rory continued, kissing along one collarbone, then the other. Malcolm undid his cufflinks and finished removing his shirt and Rory couldn’t resist.
“These hands are spectacular.” He held Malcolm’s massive fists, kissing his scarred knuckles, the marks of a champion, and then sucked Malcolm’s thumb into his mouth. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and he glanced up.
“Keep going.” The breathy order was everything, lighting the already burning desires inside him. He explored all of Malcolm’s body with his mouth. The huge pectoral muscles, now cushioned and heavier from years of inactivity, and the way his hair curled on his chest, trailing down over his large stomach. Rory could feel the strength underneath and could imagine how imposing and impressive Malcolm must have been at the peak of his powers. Yet this was better somehow. Perhaps it was the way Malcolm’s fingers clutched at Rory’s shoulders, or maybe the taste of his skin on Rory’s lips, or simply the way Malcolm responded with soft sounds that truly made Rory feel alive, like he hadn’t felt in years.
Rory tugged at Malcolm’s pants, sliding them down over his hips and solid thighs. The man was massive everywhere. Glorious. Perfect. Rory had always loved feeling overwhelmed bysomeone, to give up the power that society had blessed him with, and Malcolm achieved that beauty simply by existing.
“Get undressed.” Rory walked to the small side cabinet and although the bowl of warm water the servants had left for them was now cold, he rinsed the cloths left for the task and returned to Malcolm who sat, naked, on the bed. Shadows hid his expression but it was hard to miss Malcolm’s thick cockstand. Rory ignored that, instead kneeling on the ground. He took the cloth and washed Malcolm’s feet, repressing a giggle at the lessons learned in church all those years ago. What would the Lord think of this? A man washing another man’s feet at the end of a long day. Well, it didn’t matter because Malcolm let out another of those breathy moans as Rory used the cloth to clean away the day’s efforts. He always found it easier to relax when his feet were clean, and he assumed it would be the same for everyone.
