by Xenia Melzer
Greg’s eyes widened in shock. “No, man, absolutely not! I’m bi, so no problem there.”
That caught Jonathan’s interest. Greg hadn’t pinged his gaydar at all. If the gay thing wasn’t the issue, what then? Jonathan watched as Greg fidgeted some more, and finally a light went off in his head. Hopefully this wasn’t his mother all over again.
“This is about the BDSM, isn’t it? You know we’re in the lifestyle?”
Despite Greg’s dark skin color, he managed a formidable blush.
“Y-yes. Misaki mentioned it.”
“What do you want to know?”
Jonathan saw Greg’s shoulders slump. “To be honest, I have no clue. I don’t even know why the topic makes me so—jumpy. When Misaki told me about this part of Leeland’s life—which is absolutely confidential, I assure you—I found myself fascinated. And seeing you two today, well, I don’t know what to think.”
Jonathan sighed. He should have expected this. Leeland was close enough to his parents for them to pick up on what he preferred in bed, and via them, Misaki had found out as well. As far as Jonathan knew, Leeland never went into great detail, but his parents knew where he earned his money and how he liked his men. Which was one of the reasons why Leeland was so well versed in self-defense and so incredibly careful when it came to playing with a Dom. His parents had seen to it that he never neglected his safety. When Leeland had told them he was going steady with Jonathan and later that he would move in with him, they had voiced their approval. And of course Jonathan would never forget the open threats he had received from both Layla and Routa Drake at his first meeting with them. They loved their son fiercely, something Jonathan could relate to and respect.
Jonathan wasn’t angry at Misaki for telling Greg about this aspect of their relationship. As one of his trainers, Greg would have realized sooner rather than later that something about them was different. And since he knew, he could help keep this special piece of information a secret, though Jonathan still hoped his relationship with his boy would stay under the radar for the duration of Leeland’s involvement with the UFC.
Jonathan looked up and saw Greg still watching him with a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity in his eyes. He thought he knew what the man was wondering about. Explaining it was never easy, though, since his and Leeland’s relationship was different, even by BDSM standards.
“I guess you have a lot of—set ideas?”
Jonathan tried to phrase his question as vaguely as possible.
Greg nodded wildly. “Yes! I did some research on the web and, well, I’m aware there’s lots of stereotyping going on, and don’t even get me started on the porn, but still, you and Leeland….” He fell silent again, seemingly not knowing how to express his feelings. Luckily for him, Jonathan had been in the lifestyle long enough to guess where the problem lay.
“You think Leeland should be a lot meeker, don’t you? He shouldn’t be fighting men like yourself, but walk behind me with his eyes on the ground, waiting to obey my every command. Does that come close?”
“Yes.” Greg avoided Jonathan’s gaze.
“As you may have already guessed, ours is not a typical BDSM relationship. I like my man to be independent and strong. In my opinion, that makes his submission all the sweeter. I’m not going to lie to you, there are others out there who’d think Leeland is a terrible sub and I’m a useless Dom for how I let him run wild. Relationships in BDSM come in as many shapes as they do in the vanilla world. Leeland and I prefer to meet on equal ground. I love his ability to defend himself, and the fact that a man who could toss me on my ass allows me to dominate him turns me on more than I can say.”
Jonathan usually didn’t share so much information about himself or his relationship, but he sensed how important it was for Greg to understand the dynamic between him and Leeland. Since Greg and Leeland would be spending a lot of time together and Leeland needed to trust Greg, it was vital to clear any possible misunderstandings.
Greg threw him a sheepish glance. “This whole situation is totally messed-up, with Tony breaking his leg now of all times. It was a low blow, after all the hard training we invested. I have to admit, I thought we would lose Smash! And then Misaki decided to ask Leeland. I can understand why. His name has a good ring in the world of martial arts, even after all those years, and after the match just now, I’m even optimistic that he can win some of his fights.” Greg rubbed his left hand over his buzz cut. “What I’m trying to say is, Leeland is our last hope, and somehow I find it difficult to harmonize all the things I know about him.”
Jonathan saw an almost pleading look in Greg’s face and couldn’t help but smile. “You mean all the contradictions.”
Greg nodded vehemently.
“It’s what makes him so damn interesting. His strength, his skills, his need to be dominated, his ability to kick ass. Leeland is a study in contrasts and sometimes hard to understand. You’ll get used to it.”
Greg sighed. “I’ll do my best. We’re going to spend a lot of time together, and I can guarantee he’s going to curse my name on a regular basis. I’d prefer if it was solely because of my strict training methods.”
Jonathan opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by Leeland, who had apparently finished his shower and returned to them.
“Don’t worry about that, Greg. I’m very good at putting the blame where it belongs—at my ojisan’s feet. Of course I’m going to wish you into the deepest pits of hell, but we both know the louder I curse, the better you’re doing your job.”
Leeland was now standing next to Jonathan, his freshly washed and still damp hair in a messy bun at the back of his head. Jonathan put his arm around Leeland’s shoulders and kissed him fondly.
“Do you need anything else, honey?”
Leeland shook his head. “I’m ready to leave. You heard my ojisan—we should have a nice meal tonight since it’s going to be chicken breast, fish, and steamed vegetables from tomorrow on, with a few cups of brown rice thrown into the mix.”
Jonathan detected the tiniest pout in Leeland’s voice.
“It’ll be fine, honey. Where do you want to go?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Can we talk about it on the drive home?”
“As you wish.” Jonathan held his hand out to Greg. “It was nice meeting you, Greg. I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other in the coming months.”
Greg shook his hand. “Likewise, Jonathan. And I’m looking forward to it.” He hesitated for a moment. “Thank you for being so open.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jonathan took Leeland’s hand and led him out of the gym. While they put on their helmets, Leeland threw Jonathan a questioning glance.
“What was that about?”
Jonathan swung his leg across the saddle of his black Harley.
“Greg seems to be a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation, and he was confused about our relationship. I think I managed to ease some of his worries.” He turned around slightly to pat the pillion seat. “Hop on up. Shall we drive home, or do you want to have some coffee first?”
Leeland took his seat with a graceful motion. “No coffee, but could you stop at a pharmacy? I need Epsom salt, arnica cream and oil, and ice packs. In bulk.”
“Are you hurt?” Jonathan felt worry creep into his voice. He hadn’t seen Leeland taking any direct hits from Greg—he could have missed them, though—but that didn’t mean Leeland wasn’t hurting.
“It’s fine. Greg got me once or twice. For a man his size, he’s amazingly fast. But starting tomorrow, I’m going to need those things on a daily basis, and believe me, only few things are worse than crawling home after a strenuous workout only to find your stash of Epsom depleted.”
Jonathan blew a quick air kiss on Leeland’s nose, the only place despite his eyes he could still see now that they both had their helmets on. “I’d go and buy it for you any time of the day, honey.”
“I know. Which is why I love you so much. Nevertheless, I want t
o be prepared.”
“The pharmacy it is.”
Jonathan started the Harley and felt the familiar thrill at having Leeland’s arms wrap around him.
AFTER THEIR visit to the pharmacy, Jonathan drove them home, where he took a shower while Leeland tried to decide where he wanted to go for his “last meal worth mentioning,” as he gloomily put it. Jonathan couldn’t imagine things would become so bad, but since he didn’t know much about the intricacies of an athlete’s diet, he kept his mouth shut. When he came back from the shower, Leeland informed him that they would go to Mamma’s. Somehow Jonathan had anticipated this. The restaurant was one of their favorites. After dinner they planned to make a trip to Whisper to see if either Richard or Martin were there and tell them about Leeland’s new situation. How they would handle Leeland’s responsibilities at the club had yet to be decided. His boy felt reluctant to resign his duties as the middleman between the subs and Doms at Whisper, and Jonathan could understand that. Leeland loved to help, which made him very popular among the subs, some of who were reluctant about turning to Richard and Martin with their everyday troubles.
AFTER A sumptuous dinner where Leeland first ate his weight in pasta and then asked for second helpings of panna cotta and tiramisu, they drove to Whisper. Richard and Martin were both there, together with Dean and Collin.
Jonathan could feel Leeland getting tense when they approached the owners of Whisper at the bar. He knew how much his boy dreaded telling the two Doms about his decision, and now two of his closest friends would be there as well, and nobody knew how any of them would react. Jonathan slung his arm around Leeland, whispering soothing words into his ear.
“Everything will be fine, honey. Just wait and see. These are your friends, your extended family. And I’m here as well. You’re not alone in this.”
Leeland met Jonathan’s gaze. “Thank you.” He sounded so grateful, Jonathan just had to squeeze him hard.
After a quick greeting, Jonathan explained that Leeland needed to talk to Richard and Martin, and Richard promptly led them all into his office once he had verified that it was okay for Leeland that Dean and Collin were present. They rearranged the chairs in front of the leather sofa so they all could sit down. Once everybody was seated, Richard looked at Leeland expectantly.
“What is it you want to tell us, Leeland?”
Jonathan felt Leeland taking a deep breath next to him before he started to speak.
“My uncle, Misaki, owns a MMA gym and runs a charity that teaches kids from the street martial arts. He has found a sponsor who was willing to fund the charity if my uncle trained a fighter for them who would participate in the UFC. Three days ago, the fighter was in a car accident and broke his leg. My uncle has asked me to replace him for the next eleven months—and I agreed.”
For a moment silence ruled. Richard and Martin’s expressions didn’t change, but the same couldn’t be said for Dean and Collin. Jonathan saw confusion, joy, skepticism, and curiosity in their faces. It was Dean who spoke first.
“Leeland! Judging from the expression on your face, I’m not sure if this is great news or not, but know that I’ll be supporting you in whatever way I can. Just tell me what you need. I’ll be there for you.”
Jonathan saw Leeland gulping. His boy was wound so tight, the simple show of support had him almost in tears. And Collin jumped right in.
“Fighting sounds dangerous, I’m always afraid when Martin or Olivia have to go on assignments where there could be fighting, and you’re doing it voluntarily, and I don’t know much, but you’re a strong man, and I think you can beat them all, and if Martin allows it, I will come to all your fights and cheer you on and help you with the training, though I don’t know much about training, but perhaps I can learn, and you can always tell me what you need.”
Leeland choked back a sob, and in an instant the three subs were on their feet embracing each other, Dean and Collin whispering their love and support in Leeland’s ears. Jonathan was happy his precious lover had such wonderful friends. Some of the tension he had sensed in Leeland ever since they left the gym this afternoon seemed to bleed out of him. He met the gazes of Richard and Martin, and they both nodded, conveying with that simple gesture what their lovers had expressed with a slew of words.
It was Richard who finally ended the cuddling session by clearing his throat. The three subs let go of each other and sat down on the laps of their respective Doms. When he felt Leeland’s familiar weight on his thighs, Jonathan exhaled.
Richard looked at Leeland. “Of course you have our full support, Leeland. Whatever you need, you just have to name it.” He paused. “I assume this will affect your working schedule?”
Leeland nodded. “I need to train a lot to get in shape. I have a leave of absence from college, and I won’t be able to work my regular shifts.”
“That won’t be a problem. We will keep your position open for when you return.” Martin smiled reassuringly. Then he furrowed his brows. “Which reminds me, what about your official function as go-between?”
“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. I don’t want to abandon that post, but I can’t say yet how often I’ll be able to come to the club. I know I’m putting you on the spot with this request, and I’d understand if you’d rather somebody else took over.”
The way Leeland’s shoulders slumped told Jonathan louder than words how much the idea upset him. He looked at Richard and Martin, who shared a glance. It was Richard who answered.
“Well, it’s not ideal, but I think for the time being we can work around the issue until you have found a routine. All the subs have your number, and we just have to stress that they shouldn’t be shy about calling you.”
“We’re here as well,” Dean chimed in. “Collin, Curtis, and I are going to spread the word and also tell them they can come to us as well. That should work, shouldn’t it?”
He looked up at Richard, who patted him with a loving look in his eyes. Only a year ago, that same look would have driven Jonathan insane because of its sugary-sweetness. Now he knew he was looking into a mirror, for he and Leeland looked at each other the same way, as Peyton had informed him once while making gagging sounds to stress how disgusting he found this display of emotion.
“Yes, darling. That should work.” Richard kissed Dean’s nose, full of love.
“So that’s settled,” Martin stated. “Now tell me, Leeland, do you need a sparring partner? I’d love to try my skills against you.”
“I’ll definitely need sparring partners, Martin. I have to talk to my ojisan first, but you’d be my first choice. Sorry, Master.” Leeland threw him an apologetic glance.
Jonathan smiled. “No problem, boy. I know I’m no match for you. And as we have seen today, you need strong opponents. Martin is a better candidate than me.” Since Martin owned a security firm, he better had be.
They talked a little longer, Dean and Collin asking Leeland all kinds of questions about how his training and the fights were going to be. Jonathan saw Richard and Martin listening intently to Leeland’s explanations of the sometimes complicated proceedings in the UFC and was glad how well they seemed to take the news. He finally pried Leeland from his friends’ grasp to take him home. Tonight he wasn’t in the mood for a scene. Tonight he wanted to hold his boy, his lover, close and bask in the joy of having found his perfect match.
Chapter 9
LEELAND STARED at the plain chicken breast on the kitchen counter with utter contempt. After four weeks, he was wondering how long he would be able to endure this culinary torture before something inside him snapped. The first signs were already there. Last night he’d dreamed about swimming in chocolate mousse, and only Jonathan’s resolve had kept him from driving to the next gas station at one in the morning to buy whatever form of sugar was available. The merciless training he could cope with; it was something he remembered from his active days during high school, where it had taken up most of his free time, though he didn’t remember it hurting quite s
o much. He was either getting old or Misaki was pushing him extra hard. It was probably a mixture of both.
Even though his ojisan and the people from Smash! kept telling him it was fine if he didn’t win a single match, he was acutely aware of how much they wanted to see him win. Two weeks ago he’d met Samantha Jones—not the one from Sex and the City, though she surely could have worked as her double—to take his official publicity shots and talk about how he would represent the brand, a drink he couldn’t have because it was anything but a suitable beverage for an athlete. And even if he would have been allowed to drink it, Leeland wouldn’t have. One whiff of the concoction that smelled like liquid gummy bears, and he’d known why it had to be aggressively advertised. Nobody in their right mind would voluntarily drink something so obnoxious.
His ojisan had sent Samantha a picture of Leeland beforehand, and she must have liked what she’d seen, because when he arrived at the photographer’s studio he was met by three stylists. What should have been a quick shoot in his fighting gear turned into a ten-hour marathon session where he had to dress in everything from a smart business suit by Hugo Boss to a casual jeans and T-shirt outfit by Tommy Hilfiger. It had taken Leeland almost an hour to get rid of all the makeup on his face, though he had to admit, the pictures were stunning. The photographer was a pro who had managed to capture his androgynous nature perfectly. And Leeland understood why Samantha, who was a shining example of an extremely successful American PR lady, wanted those pictures. Her company was already at a disadvantage with the intended athlete being out of the picture. Even though Leeland did have some successes in the world of martial arts under his belt, those had happened too long ago and carried little weight in the UFC. Of course, they were highlighted in the biography Samantha had set up on his new social media account and website, but she needed something substantial to gain interest, and his looks would definitely do the trick.
Leeland didn’t think he was being immodest by thinking so. He had a healthy view of himself and knew there were lots of people in the country who loved his type. As Samantha had explained to him quite bluntly, at the moment the only thing he had going for him was his looks. The silent message rang loud and clear. They wanted to see him win, no matter what they said aloud. Fortunately Leeland wanted to win as well. He just didn’t have it in him to take part in a competition and not give his best—he had inherited that competitive streak from both his parents, as well as the need to fulfill the duties he took on.
