Page 21 of Coming for the Champion
“Will you come for me?” Malcolm whispered in his ear, and Rory shivered.
“Yes.” And he wanted to know one more thing. “How did you know to ask?”
“I can feel you thinking too much. I can feel you worrying about what might go wrong, and I want to you think about what can go well instead. I want you to get undressed, get on my bed and show me The Long Laird in all your glory and I want you to forget everything else and come for me.”
“For my champion.” Rory’s mind focused on Malcolm. Having a task made it easier to get out of his own head and into the moment and damned if that wasn’t the loveliest gift that Malcolm had given him. He didn’t need declarations of love, or solutions to his problems – although he had those now – he had Malcolm who saw him, the real him, not the Champion, not the broken man dragged through the courts, not the man who couldn’t breathe when he smelled the scents of leather and sweat. Malcolm saw all of that and accepted it as part of his true self, and it was for that reason that Rory had fallen in love.
“Rory. Stop thinking.” Malcolm pushed him onto the bed and Rory smiled.
“I think I could love you.”
“I know. I feel the same way. I wouldn’t give up my life here in London for just anyone.”
Rory frowned. “But you are unhappy in your job.”
“Sometimes.” Malcolm nodded. “It’s a job with security and sure, it has some challenges, but I’ll always have those, whereverI go simply because of who I am. I’m giving up guaranteed security to risk being with you in a place I’ve never even visited.”
When it was put like that, Rory had only one question. “Why?”
“Because I think you are worth taking a chance for.”
Rory jumped to his feet and wrapped himself around Malcolm, pressing kisses everywhere. “Thank you. I am honoured.”
“As Tommy would say, now it’s up to you to show me that the risk is worth it.”
There was something clinical about the way Malcolm said that, as if he hadn’t quite leaped into love yet, but that didn’t bother Rory. Odd, noticing that would’ve bothered him in anyone else, but Malcolm’s actions spoke louder than his cautious words. He was here, The Colossus, big and real and taking a chance for Rory. Malcolm’s choice to come north with him and work with him was a giant leap of faith and Rory was determined to honour it. Rory sank to his knees, unbuttoning Malcolm’s fall to access his broad cock and using his hands and mouth to say all the things that threatened to burst out of his chest. How he wanted to hold Malcolm forever, and be held by him, how he appreciated being cared for by him in moments of crisis, and especially...
“I will spend my days loving you.” Rory knew this would work out, despite it being only a few days since they’d met, because Malcolm had seen him at his worst and he’d protected him. Rory was the one who had the most learning to do, the most to give as they moved into the next stage of their life together. Malcolm was a complicated, interesting man, and it would take a lifetime to discover everything about him. Until then, it was easy. He slid his mouth over Malcolm’s cock and worshipped the man until he came. For his Champion.
Epilogue
The dining room, Ambrosia’s Palace, at the King’s Book Club had been emptied of all the tables and chairs. Tommy and his students had constructed a boxing ring in the centre of the room, and people filled the space.
Rory shook out his hand. “How is your hand?” They’d been sitting outside the club under an awning signing autograph cards all morning for passersby, each one for a shilling donation to the various charities being supported by today’s events. Most of the people who wanted one of the little printed Christmas cards with space for the signatures of two Champions weren’t able to afford the entry fee for the fight, and many of them were old boxing fans, rather than King’s Book Club members. He must’ve signed hundreds of cards, reminiscing with so many people, nodding when they said—over and over—how good it was to see both of them together, how much they’d treasure this card, how much they missed their fights, how sorry they were to hear about Johnson.
“Fine. I spend my days writing.” Malcolm dipped his pen into his ink pot again, as if to show that he could keep doing this all day. Rory shook his head indulgently. Over the last few weeks, he’d enjoyed the way they competed with each other as much as they way they caring for each other. They had a little competition today for who could make the most money with their signatures, and the winner would get to determine how they spent the evening. It was silly as most people wanted both signatures, and even so, Rory couldn’t wait to see what Malcolm would ask of him.
“Come on. You need to introduce your fighters now.” Mr Mardin hustled them inside, through to the main dining and Rory hesitated at the doorway. Malcolm pressed his huge handonto the small of Rory’s back and the touch gave him the confidence to face his demons.
“You’ve got this. We’ve practiced.” They’d spent several days at Tommy’s hotel, slowly easing Rory back into the fighter’s shed so he could deal with today without too many reminders. He swallowed, then looked up. The room was nothing like it had been when Davey Johnson had died; that was an outdoor arena with many drunken men shouting at the ring, and this was indoors. A stunning woman with a gold silk gown was walking around the ring holding a board with their chosen fighter’s names on it. This was a spectacle in a very different style than the worst day of Rory’s life. Even the crowd was different; a much more diverse crowd with people more interested in each other than the sport, and the room smelled like perfumes and champagne and holly, not dirt and beer and sweat. The room reminded him of Christmases at his castle growing up, a little bit of nostalgia wrapped up with the warmth of many bodies crushed indoors, and so completely different to his worst day ever that he knew he could participate.
“I can do this.” He leaned against Malcolm’s hand, still on his spine, and breathed in deeply.
“We can do this.” Malcolm placed his other hand on Rory’s shoulder and the crowd disappeared as he let Malcolm support him. “And once this is done, we can go back to my rooms...”
Rory shivered, in anticipation, then lifted his chin and followed Mr Mardin as he parted the crowd. He ducked under the ropes and stepped into the ring for the first time in years. He hadn’t quite managed this, at Tommy’s, but today with the crowd cheering his name, his old instincts kicked in and he stood up in the ring. He held Malcolm’s hand and raised it high; just like at the end of a match when he’d beaten his opponent. The crowd cheered, and it was exactly like the old days.
The woman holding the boards walked in a circle around them and the crowd exploded with noise. For her? Well, this was the King’s Book Club. Malcolm leaned in closer.
“I think they cheer for Gabby Doll and not us.”
“Yes.” The irony of it made Rory smile. Here they were, two unbeaten champions, and this crowd had only the vaguest clue about what this meant. They were cheering for their favourite performer instead.
“Come, let’s bow for them and then the games can begin.” Malcolm bowed and so did Rory, and they both climbed out of the ring—probably for the last time ever—and took their seats near Tommy. Rory had done the hardest part, and now he could relax. Malcolm took his hand again and leaned close to whisper with his lips brushing against Rory’s ear.
“No one will notice if you need to leave.”
Rory gulped. “Thank you. I don’t need to leave, but I would like to leave with you.”
