A Dom and His Warrior

by Xenia Melzer

  When Leeland complied, Jonathan kissed the cockhead, then sucked the precum into his mouth. Leeland bucked his hips.

  “Enjoy, boy. Just tell me when you’re getting close. Want to be inside you then.”

  Leeland groaned. “Yes, Master.”

  Satisfied with this answer, Jonathan started to work on his boy. First he licked his whole length, swirling his tongue over the slit where more precum was leaking. Then he went down on Leeland’s balls and sucked them into his mouth, one after the other, and massaged them with his tongue until Leeland squirmed so badly under him, he had to steady him with both hands.

  “God, Master! So good!”

  Jonathan grinned and let the heavy orbs go. He grabbed Leeland’s asscheeks to expose his pretty pink hole. Jonathan loved rimming Leeland; it gave him a strange sense of utter power when he felt his boy squirming under the assault of his tongue. He started with slow, long licks over the wrinkled skin up to the wet, glistening balls. When he dabbed his tongue against the tight outer ring of muscle for the first time, Leeland howled. He was now leaking copious amounts of clear liquid. His hips jerked in an attempt to get closer to Jonathan’s tongue, and Jonathan loved how completely undone his boy was coming.

  He rolled his tongue and darted the tip past the sphincter into Leeland’s wonderful heat. Jonathan felt his own moan rise in his throat as he tasted his boy. Leeland was the sweetest drug he knew, the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  “Master, close!”

  Jonathan immediately withdrew from Leeland’s delicious hole to give his boy a chance to come down from the edge. Jonathan didn’t want this to end too soon, and judging from the hungry look Leeland was giving him, his boy was with him. As soon as Leeland calmed down, Jonathan started his assault again, only to withdraw when Leeland warned him. He did it two more times before his own erection was so hard, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Jonathan opened the fly on his leather pants to free his cock before he reached for the bottle of lube on the table, squirted a generous amount on his fingers, and started opening Leeland while sucking the tip of his cock at the same time. Since Leeland always reacted very well to rimming, it didn’t take Jonathan long to have him stretched enough. Panting, Jonathan aligned his cock with his boy’s hole. They gazed at each other while Jonathan slowly sank inside Leeland’s tight heat.

  “So perfect. My boy, my honey.”

  “Master. Jonathan. You. Only you.”

  Even though the things they said were hardly coherent, Jonathan knew exactly what his boy was telling him. And somehow, deep in his heart, he knew Leeland understood him just as well. He moved slowly in an attempt to draw things out, to make this physical part of their connection last as long as possible. Leeland clamped down on Jonathan’s cock as if he wanted to do the same. Jonathan loved how in sync they were at this moment. Nothing besides them mattered; it was just him and the love of his life.

  Despite his wish to remain inside his lover like this for the rest of eternity, Jonathan felt the telltale tingling in his balls as well as the flex of Leeland’s abdominal muscles that told him how close they both were. Jonathan quickly undid the rope around Leeland’s cock before he started a more punishing rhythm. His boy urged him on with moans and pleas for more and harder. After only a few more thrusts, Jonathan felt Leeland stiffen beneath him. Warm liquid coated both their stomachs. Knowing that he had pushed his boy over the edge, that he had pleased his lover, ignited Jonathan’s own orgasm. With a roar he emptied himself into Leeland’s spasming channel, let his boy’s body milk him for the last drops of his cum. Insanely satisfied, Jonathan collapsed on top of Leeland. As if he hadn’t gotten the memo that they were completely done, his cock kept on twitching hopefully inside Leeland. His boy groaned.

  “Feels good.”

  “Mmpf.” Jonathan was the first to admit that was pretty lame, even for postcoital talk. Leeland chuckled, which sent vibrations through his entire body. When they reached Jonathan’s cock, it finally calmed down and slid from its wet, sloppy paradise.

  “So good, Jonathan. I love you.”

  Jonathan kissed Leeland deeply. “I love you.”

  He got up, took some of the wet wipes from the table, and cleaned first himself and then his boy. After that, Jonathan undid the ropes, helped Leeland from the bench, and carried him to the king-size bed for their aftercare. Once they were settled in, Leeland flush against Jonathan’s body, a blanket over them both, his boy looked up at him.

  “Thank you, Jonathan. I needed this. And I’m sorry.”

  Jonathan raised a brow. “For what?”

  Leeland’s cheeks flushed pink. “For not trusting in us.” He made a vague gesture with his hand.

  Jonathan caught him by the wrist to kiss each knuckle on his hand. “You did trust in us, honey. All you needed was a reminder that I’m as serious about our relationship as you are. I don’t blame you, Leeland. I know I’m not an easy man and given my history….”

  Leeland rose far enough to kiss Jonathan on the lips, effectively shutting him up. “I’m so glad I found you. It feels so good—to let go, to rely on you. As for the ‘not easy’ part—who is? What Dom would have asked me out after learning that I’m not as submissive as I seem? What Dom would have stayed with me, been proud of my skills, even if others might see it as a weakness? What Dom would have supported me through this madness that is the UFC? Only a great Dom could do it, and it so happens I have the best of them all!”

  The cheeky smile on Leeland’s lips made Jonathan burst out in laughter.

  “My sweet, sweet honey. I think we were made for each other.”

  “Yeah, custom-made, like one of your cars.”

  They both chuckled, content and happy. Jonathan started stroking Leeland’s naked back until deep, regular breathing told him his boy had fallen asleep.

  THEY SPENT the next day happily lazing on the couch, making out in the sweetest way, and watching mindless shows on TV. They ordered takeout from the Chinese restaurant two blocks from their apartment, eating in the living room while the TV was still on. To Leeland, that was the height of depravity, as Jonathan well knew. Apparently Leeland’s parents had both been adamant about not eating on the couch, much less watching TV at the same time. Most of the time, Leeland still followed those rules unconsciously unless Jonathan actively went against them, like now. It felt good, being in their home—which was gorgeous, even if Jonathan would never admit that to Peyton, ever; the man was conceited enough as it was—together, just enjoying their deep connection.

  Of course nothing that good could last forever.

  They had just agreed on watching Sweeney Todd before going to bed, when Leeland’s phone rang. With a sigh Leeland heaved himself up to retrieve the cell from the small table in the hall where he usually placed it when he was at home. Jonathan watched his boy come back with a serious expression on his face and raised a brow in question. Leeland held up his free hand.

  “Wait a minute, Ojisan. I think Jonathan needs to hear this as well. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  Leeland lowered the phone from his ear, pressed an icon on the screen, and put the cell on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  “You’re on speaker now, Ojisan.”

  “Thank you, Leeland. Good evening, Jonathan.”

  “Good evening, Misaki. You have something to tell us?”

  Jonathan hated how worried his voice sounded, but Leeland was so tense, it made Jonathan’s internal alarm shrill like crazy.

  “Yes, indeed.” Misaki sounded calm enough, a fact that didn’t fool Jonathan. Misaki always sounded calm. It had something to do with his Japanese upbringing. “I received two calls today, one from Samantha, one from the UFC. Both are—complicated.”

  Jonathan hated how Misaki was dancing around the topic, something Leeland had explained to him was normal behavior for the man. Since he didn’t want to be rude to his lover’s godfather, Jonathan took a deep breath, reminding himself that patience was a virtue. Leeland, on the other h
and, didn’t seem to feel a need to restrain himself.

  “Ojisan! Just tell us already! I have a film waiting for me.”

  A deep sigh came through the phone speaker, as if Misaki was trying to find the courage for what he had to tell them. It didn’t help Jonathan to calm down at all.

  “The UFC informed me that you will be fighting for the championship in two months. Your opponent will be Noah Adams.”

  “Fuck!”

  Leeland voiced what Jonathan felt. They both would have been happy to never see Noah Adams again. It seemed the gods of MMA—or more precise, Sean Shelby—had different plans. When Jonathan thought about it, he could even understand why. Both Leeland and Noah had a clean record of wins with one draw—from the fight against each other. Nominating the two would make for great PR, especially since their characters were so different and Noah was so good at generating attention in the media. From a purely economic point of view, this match was a wet dream, with countless opportunities to make money and get PR for the UFC. Sean Shelby was a genius.

  “That is not all.”

  The slight trembling in Misaki’s voice alerted Jonathan. If having to fight against Noah Adams wasn’t the worst-case scenario, then what was?

  “Samantha called as well. It seems as if somebody saw you two at a hotel in the Keys three days ago. There’s a picture of you kissing, and it’s already all over social media. I’m afraid you’re the first male athlete to come out in the UFC, Leeland.”

  For a moment none of them spoke. Jonathan looked at Leeland, who had gone very still, his eyes trained on the phone as if he wanted his uncle to take the words back.

  Regret tinged Misaki’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Leeland. I’m going to hang up now. Samantha wants to talk to you first thing tomorrow. She wanted to call you the moment we realized what was going on, but I told her to leave you alone. Try to get some rest and don’t worry too much. We’ll deal with this.”

  The connection broke.

  Jonathan opened his arms, and Leeland stepped into his embrace with a sigh. After a few minutes of cuddling, where Jonathan got the impression his boy wanted to crawl into him, Leeland finally spoke. His voice sounded muffled against Jonathan’s chest.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why couldn’t they find out after the match? Or never? It’s bad enough I have to fight against Noah Adams—again. I don’t want to deal with all the other shit that’s surely coming our way.”

  Jonathan pressed a kiss on Leeland’s head. “It’s okay, honey. We knew this could happen. We’ve come this far. We won’t let this stop us now.”

  “I hope you’re right, Jonathan. I have a feeling I’m in way over my head.”

  “Oh, honey, maybe. But I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”

  “Thank you.” Leeland squirmed in Jonathan’s arms until his back pressed against Jonathan’s front, which had Jonathan’s cock immediately interested.

  “Do you still want to see the film? Or do you want to go to bed?”

  Leeland snuggled into Jonathan, and the sad tone in his voice broke Jonathan’s heart.

  “I think I still want to see the film. Nothing like some blood and gore to take my mind off this mess.”

  Chapter 16

  Two weeks later

  “MR. DRAKE, one moment please! How do you feel about—”

  Leeland hurried to get into Jonathan’s Volvo and thanked the gods and his car-loving boyfriend for tinted windows. Once he was inside the car, nobody could take pictures of him, which was a relief. The dual announcement of him being gay and fighting Noah Adams had generated even more publicity than Leeland had feared in his worst nightmares. Of course Noah had sunk his teeth into the information immediately, and there was no sign he would let go of it anytime soon. If Leeland hadn’t stopped checking social media in general and Noah’s Twitter rants in particular before their first fight, he would have now. Jonathan only told him the bare minimum of what he had to know, and it wasn’t pretty. The nicest thing Noah had said about him was how it was no wonder the judges had ruled a draw in their fight, because they had smelled the gay on Leeland and hoped for a piece of ass. That he was also insulting the judges didn’t seem to register in his little homophobic brain.

  To say Leeland’s outing had made some waves in the UFC was like saying it was a little chilly in the Arctic. All the big news channels had picked up on it, and if Leeland got a dollar for every athlete, former athlete, trainer, friend of a trainer, sports manager, and sponsor who felt obligated to add their ten cents to the topic, he would be a rich man. Though there were many UFC athletes who took Leeland’s side, the haters seemed to feel it was time to air their homophobic feelings, even though most of them had had to apologize for antigay comments before. The fact that Noah Adams could rant as much as he wanted without getting more than a light verbal slap on the wrist gave them the courage to join him.

  Leeland knew Dana White’s restraint on the topic wasn’t necessarily to do with him being antigay and everything with the media coverage the UFC was getting out of this. And as long as White rebuked Noah Adams for the things he said, he was on the safe side. Several LGBTQ-rights groups, bloggers, and magazines were already asking for harder sanctions, thus drawing even more attention to the championship match in six weeks. If White played his cards right—which meant not punishing Noah for his hateful rhetoric by withdrawing him from the fight—he could elevate the UFC to new heights of popularity.

  Intellectually, Leeland understood that. Business came first. And it wasn’t as if Samantha wasn’t milking the whole situation for Smash! as well, but he still felt betrayed. Being an athlete in a major sport should mean he would be protected against the hatred and bigotry not only of other athletes, but also from the fans. As it was, he needed Jonathan and his friends as his safety net and source of support; otherwise Leeland would have given up by now. The only other reason he wasn’t seriously thinking about quitting was that he didn’t want Noah to have that triumph. Leeland had his pride.

  Still lost in thoughts about how unfair and toxic the whole situation was, Leeland started the car. He winced when he put his foot on the brake, his sore muscles protesting loudly. Now that they had the championship in their sights, his ojisan and Greg had intensified the training even more. Nobody pretended it was enough if Leeland simply showed up for the fights anymore, which was kind of a relief. To Leeland’s own surprise, he found he was better able to deal with the expectations of his ojisan, Greg, and Smash! now they were expressing them openly. The unspoken demands had pressured him more than the open ambition.

  Leeland steered his car through the afternoon traffic back to their apartment. Fortunately there were no paparazzi waiting for him there. When the bomb had first gone off, they had been everywhere, like cockroaches. They had even tried to get interviews with Jonathan, but his man had put on his scary face and driven them away. He had also put a restraining order in place to keep journalists from sniffing around the garage, although Leeland thought it was more fear of the mostly heavily muscled, gruff-looking mechanics that kept the vultures at bay than anything the law could to do to them.

  Leeland drove into the garage after opening the gate with a remote control Jonathan had put in the glove compartment, parked the car, got out, and climbed the stairs to his safe haven. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the smell of food. His heart did a happy little jig in his chest. His man, his Dom, was cooking for him. Jonathan had started doing the cooking shortly after the media scrutiny had begun. Leeland suspected it was because Jonathan knew how pampered he felt when somebody, especially Jonathan, took care of him. It was a nice break from their usual routine—though Leeland did enjoy preparing meals for Jonathan—and it helped Leeland to deal with the madness his life had turned into.

  He wandered into the kitchen, where Jonathan was just setting the small table.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” Leeland couldn’t help the seductive purr in his voice. Somehow, Jonathan brought out his horny side every time he laid eye
s on him.

  “Hello to you too, honey. Did you have fun at the gym?”

  Leeland made a face. “If you call being trained as if I were a slave and then being harassed by the media again having fun, then yes, I had fun.”

  “Poor baby.” Jonathan put a kiss on Leeland’s forehead. “I wish I could tell you I made your favorite food to make it all better, but all I have is a delicious broccoli salad with some almonds and, believe it or not, chicken breast!”

  They stared at each other, and this time Leeland was the first to start laughing. It was a game between them, one of the many things that helped him cope with the stressful situation. They tried to make light of all the things he had to endure, and it helped. Not as effectively as a carton of ice cream and his favorite chocolate bar to spoon it out with, but it was still better than nothing.

  “So I’ll take the chicken breast. I’m sure it’s—tasty.”

  “You bet it is! I tried something new with chili oil and ginger.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Oh yes, it is. And you know what? Tomorrow it’s tilapia with brown rice! Isn’t that great?”

  Leeland made a face. “Wonderful, Master. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

  Jonathan swatted his ass with the dish towel before they sat down to eat, and it wasn’t as bad as Leeland had feared. Jonathan was a decent cook; he just preferred to hide it. After the meal, they took a bath together, another ritual that helped Leeland to relax. Once they were out of the water, Jonathan gave Leeland a full-body massage with arnica oil, and if he hadn’t been so bone-tired, Leeland would have taken full advantage of it. As it was, he fell asleep halfway through.

  THE SUN was shining through a gap in the curtains when Leeland woke. Judging from the angle of the rays, he knew it had to be early still. He didn’t know what had woken him; he certainly felt like at least two more hours of solid sleep were required before he could get up to deal with yet another day of merciless training and intrusive reporters. Jonathan was gone, and for reasons Leeland didn’t understand, he felt a chill through his body. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.