Page 41 of Filthy and the Beast

Damian.

“You still with me, buddy?” Reggie asks, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blink.

Fuck.

Thinking about Damian again.

“I’ve still got some good years ahead,” I tell him, “but my body is giving me problems. First step is to push myself. See how good I really am. If I hold up, yeah, maybe I would like to fight again.”

Reggie nods slowly. “Okay. Okay. And you’re looking for some help from me?”

“Are you available?”

My muscles burn, alive with the thought of training again. Something I actually know how to do. A way to take charge, act instead of turning to dust.

“I think we can work something out. Hell, I’ve got a little time now. Let’s run through some exercises, see how you’re healing.” He appraises me one more time, considering something. “How’s Damian, by the way?”

“Fine.” He stares at me like I should say more, so I grunt. “Good guy.”

Reggie nods. “Yeah, I like him. When you’re around him, you just end up smiling.” He chuckles. “Maybe not you. But most people. People who smile.”

“I smile,” I say, aware my face is flat. “Damian makes me smile.”

Damn it.

Reggie shrugs, rubbing his hands together. “That’s cool. Ready to hit the mat?”

We stretch and run through the exercises, Reggie down on his knees and assessing me the whole way. I’m still not pushing myself like I will when I’m training, but being active feels good. Quiets my brain and helps me think.

Damian told me I need to think about what I want.Boundaries and expectations.

I expect to rub my dick against his soft body again. Shove it in the warmth of his mouth. Suck his cock until he shakes apart and comes.

I don’t know what two men are supposed to do together. Only person I could think to ask is Reggie, but no way in hell. I don’t talk about my business with other people, and especially not at the gym.

Tried porn. Freaked me out, but I don’t think it was the gay part. Just everything else about that shit was intense. All fucking, no warmup.

Just shoving the dicks right in. Made me squirm.

I keep thinking about it.

Doesn’t matter. I want Damian again. That thought remains clear as day.

When I get home, I enter through the back and take a long shower. Nervous, like when we talk, I’m going to say the wrong thing and ruin it. I’m so worked up, after I kick on some sweatpants and grab a t-shirt, I head straight to the front of the house, hoping to find Damian.

He’s lounging on a couch by the windows, reading a book about Joe Louis, one of my personal boxing heroes. Damian wears a pair of purple shorts, tight and faded, and a large purple sweater.

He pulled a Joe Louis book off my shelf. I fucking love that.

“Carried his boxing gloves in his violin case,” I say to announce my arrival.

Startled, Damian sits up. “What the hell does that mean?”

I rub my beard. “Joe Louis. Had to hide from his ma that he was fighting.”

Damian glances at the book before setting it aside. “It’s pretty amazing. I just flipped through, but Louis sounds like a legend. I mean, damn. Fighting a world-champion Nazi? We're talking 1938, while the whole world was listening on the radio. Louis knocked out the other guy so fast that asshole only got two hits in the whole match!”

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