A Dom and His Warrior

by Xenia Melzer

  “You could come and take a shower with me, for starters. That would please me greatly. After that, you could allow me to smear that body butter all over your skin. And then….”

  Leeland’s breathing grew heavy under Jonathan’s suggestive look.

  “Then we could do… other things, Master. Nice things. Nasty things.”

  “Oh yeah. Yeah, I like the idea.”

  They kissed, slowly, deeply, savoring how close they were, how good it felt to be in each other’s arms.

  “Let’s shower.”

  The look of pure hunger on Jonathan’s face sent shivers down Leeland’s spine.

  “Let’s shower,” he responded breathlessly.

  Chapter 19

  JONATHAN WATCHED as Leeland stepped on the scale for the official weighing. Camera shutters clicked like mad, lights flashed everywhere, and he couldn’t suppress the twinge of jealousy when he saw all those strangers ogling his boyfriend’s naked chest. The press conference before the weighing had been as terrible as Jonathan had expected, with Noah Adams openly insulting Leeland every time he opened his mouth, and the assembled reporters egging him on with the most stupid and obvious questions Jonathan had ever heard. Leeland stayed calm the entire time, smiled politely at the cameras, and answered the questions as seriously as if he were on a job interview. When Noah made another comment about Leeland’s looks—so far he had complained about his smooth skin, his clothing, his full, long eyelashes, and the soft sheen on his lips that didn’t come from lip gloss as Noah had insinuated, but from the intense make-out session Leeland and Jonathan had before the interview—this time saying how his long hair made him look like a little girl, Leeland turned to him with a broad smile. The room fell silent when the reporters realized Leeland was about to answer Noah directly.

  “If you keep making so many comments about my looks, I have to assume you want to ask me out, but I’m sorry.” Leeland put a finger to his lips and winked. “I’m already taken.”

  Noah opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, and a vein in his forehead started to throb. The whole room erupted in laughter, which only grew louder when one reporter asked Noah, “Well, do you want to ask him out? I wouldn’t blame you. He looks gorgeous!”

  Jonathan watched Noah clench his fists, ready to attack the reporter. Before he could jump the man, though, Noah’s trainer leaned forward, put a hand on his shoulder, and whispered into his ear. For a moment Jonathan thought Noah would ignore whatever his trainer had told him and do something stupid enough to get him withdrawn from the fight and into custody, but then he bit his lip and relaxed slightly. After that Noah didn’t make any more digs about Leeland’s looks and acted almost professional.

  Once the weighing was over, the opponents were free for the rest of the day to prepare for the fight the next evening. On their way to the car, Leeland, Jonathan, Misaki, and Greg met Noah and his entourage, who were waiting in front of the elevators. Noah’s face contorted into a hateful mask, and Jonathan felt Leeland tensing. He slung his arm around Leeland’s shoulders, knowing that would piss Noah off even more, but Jonathan was way past caring when it came to this idiot. All he wanted was to show his lover, his precious boy, that he wasn’t alone. A light squeeze from Leeland showed how much he appreciated the gesture, and Jonathan felt his chest swell with pride.

  “You!” Noah shouted like a madman. “You made me a laughingstock! How dare you?!”

  Leeland shrugged. His tone was calm, a stark contrast to Noah’s shouting. “You’ve been insulting and bad-mouthing me for months. Just because I have more class than to lower myself to your level doesn’t mean I’m a pushover. Today you gave me an opening too good to pass up on. Thank you for that. And in case you’re wondering, I really don’t want to go out with you. I prefer real men over testosterone-driven wannabes.”

  For a moment all Noah could do was splutter, while Jonathan tried his best to hide his snicker. As much as he resented Noah, he didn’t want to egg the man on further. Though on second thought, maybe he would blow a vessel, and then his boy wouldn’t have to face him in the octagon. It was Misaki who ended the uncomfortable standoff between the two parties by grabbing Jonathan’s elbow and leading him firmly away from the elevators.

  “I think we’re going to take the stairs. Good training.”

  Jonathan followed obediently, his arm still around Leeland’s shoulders. Greg took up the rear. They were already a dozen feet away when Noah found his voice again.

  “I’m going to destroy you, fag boy! Do you hear me? I’m going to pound your pretty face into the ground until not even your dirty boyfriend will recognize you anymore!”

  They walked a little faster, Noah’s hateful tirade ringing in their ears. When they reached the car, they quickly entered and waited for the driver to take the steering wheel after he had closed the doors. The black sedan rolled out of the underground parking lot and wove into the traffic of Las Vegas, bringing them back to the Bellagio, where Richard had rented an entire floor for their friends and family.

  “That man is so full of shit.” Greg was the first to break the silence.

  “Do not listen to him, Leeland. All he has is his hatred.” Misaki’s words didn’t quite match his furious expression.

  “I don’t.” Jonathan felt Leeland shudder in his arms. “I just don’t get it. Why does he have to be so nasty? I never did anything to him.”

  “Some people are just like that—only happy when they can pick on somebody. And even then, I don’t think they’re happy. Just no longer alone in their misery.” Jonathan stroked Leeland’s back. His boy leaned into the touch like a cat.

  They talked some more about the upcoming fight and possible tactics Leeland could use, but that was basically just a repeat of what Misaki and Greg had already decided. The car stopped in front of the Bellagio, and they got out. Together they rode the elevator up to their floor, where Greg and Misaki turned to find Garrett’s room while Jonathan took Leeland to the suite Smash! had booked for them. Now that their fighter was in the championship, they spared no expense. In case Leeland won, there would be a huge party in one of the ballrooms of the Bellagio. As soon as he knew where they would be staying, Richard had flexed his business muscles a bit to get them all together on the same floor. Quite a lot of members from Whisper would be there to support Leeland during the fight, and it made sense to keep the family together. Richard and several of the other Doms had also paid for the tickets and plane ride for the subs who couldn’t afford such expenses. Jonathan felt a lump in his throat whenever he thought about the support Richard, Martin, and everybody at Whisper were showing Leeland.

  He swiped his card to unlock the door to their suite and guided his very silent boy inside. They sat down on the luxurious sofa in cream and gold in front of the giant screen that dominated the living room. Leeland snuggled into Jonathan’s side, his face buried in Jonathan’s chest.

  “Do you want to talk?” Jonathan spoke softly. He could feel how agitated Leeland was. His boy’s nervous energy rolled off him in waves, making Jonathan’s fingers itch to give him a spanking to calm him down. Soon, he reminded himself. Tomorrow evening the fight would be over, and he would have his lover back to himself. Jonathan hadn’t lied when he told Martin he would support Leeland no matter what, but he was relieved nevertheless that this little field trip into the world of professional sports would be over soon.

  Leeland pressed himself even closer. “Can we have a bath? And not talk? Just—can you hold me?”

  Jonathan’s heart went out to his lover. Leeland sounded vulnerable, almost lost. And it wasn’t just the tension before the fight. It was the pressure Leeland felt from his uncle, from Smash!, from the LGBTQ community, who had started following Leeland after Noah Adams’s rants had reached national level, and even, to some extent, from his friends and family, not to mention his own high expectations of himself. Nobody said it out loud, but they all wanted to see him win. For different reasons, obviously, but still. Jonathan d
idn’t want to see Leeland win. Not anymore. All he wanted was for his boy to be happy again. To be able to relax and smile and be his old laid-back self. Leeland wasn’t made for the world of MMA, where men hid behind their aggression, where being different was interpreted as weakness and showing emotion was forbidden. Jonathan was proud that he and Leeland—and their friends—had left this toxic interpretation of masculinity behind, and he was even prouder that Leeland didn’t fall back on it to fit into the world of UFC. His boy was firm in his convictions, something that required more courage than a man like Noah Adams would ever possess.

  “I’ll hold you as long as you wish, boy.”

  Jonathan felt Leeland’s gaze on him, hot and grateful. “Thank you, Master.”

  Together they went into the bathroom.

  Chapter 20

  LEELAND STOOD in front of the gate through which he would enter the T-Mobile Arena and watched the crowd go wild when Noah Adams entered the cage. The arena was packed, with at least two dozen rainbow flags being waved all over the arena. Leeland hadn’t known that Leandra, the blogger who had been at his first interview and done some coverage in his favor, together with the people from some local LGBTQ groups, had organized a crowd of supporters for him. Now it wasn’t only his family and friends out there—Jonathan had told him there were almost a hundred people from Whisper in the audience—but also a huge group of queer activists. It made Leeland happy knowing that he had so many people on his side.

  Noah strutted into his corner, and Leeland heard his own name being announced. He stepped out into the light, almost staggering back from the massive wall of sound and different scents that hit him. Leeland let his gaze briefly wander over the crowd, making out Dean, Richard, Martin, his parents, and the people from Whisper, before he focused on the cage. When he entered, his eyes immediately found Jonathan, who was waiting in his corner, outside the cage. Leeland knew that without his Dom and lover, he would have cracked along the way. Jonathan had been his pillar of support, his safe haven in all this madness, and seeing him here through the bars of the cage, not cheering him on like mad, just giving him a slow, graceful nod full of trust and love, filled Leeland with pride and determination. Pride that this exceptional man had chosen him to be his partner. Determination to win this fight and then show Jonathan for the rest of their lives how much he loved him.

  Leeland gave his man a quick smile before he turned to face his opponent. The referee had closed the cage and was now motioning them to come forward. When Leeland and Noah were only two feet apart, the referee blew his whistle and raised his hand.

  The first round had begun.

  Noah didn’t waste time. He threw a direct punch toward Leeland’s face, one he quickly ducked and answered with a sweep of his left leg. Noah stumbled but didn’t fall. The crowd roared, pleased at getting so much action in the first seconds. Noah caught himself and rained a series of punches on Leeland’s upper body, most of which he was able to block. A few landed, though, and they hurt like hell. Before Noah could start another volley of blows, Leeland stepped out of his range, turned, and attacked with a spinning kick that caught Noah in the chest and had him stumbling backward.

  Leeland knew Noah had originally started with kickboxing before he turned to MMA. He hadn’t done it long enough to become very good at it, which meant he had no stable base to rely on, unlike Leeland, who had several black belts in different martial arts as well as fighting experience.

  Most UFC fighters came from a certain sport, be it boxing, wrestling, or a martial art, and many of them were well-trained in that particular sport, which could be an advantage. Having a set of movements so ingrained that one didn’t have to think about it when using them could give a fighter the edge over an opponent like Noah, whose basics in all the different styles were solid, but who didn’t have one specialty. This advantage could turn into a problem, though, if the fighter wasn’t able to adapt to an opponent’s fighting style or couldn’t think outside the box of his original sport and react creatively to attacks.

  At the moment Leeland had the upper hand because he simply allowed his body to go through a set of attacks he had used during his active time in high school. He managed to corner Noah, who didn’t seem to know how to counteract the combination of kicks and blows Leeland rained on him.

  Then the whistle announced the end of the first round. Leeland went into his corner, where his ojisan and Greg were waiting. Misaki was talking fast.

  “You’re doing good, but you’ve made him angry. He’s going to be more forceful, so be careful. You know his punches are hard, and he’s like a wounded bull now. Keep your guard up, wait for your chance, and then strike!”

  Leeland nodded, his eyes glued to Jonathan on the other side of the cage bars, smiling at him. Nothing could have given him more strength than that look. For this moment alone, where their eyes met through the wire of the cage, Leeland was glad that his being gay was finally out. Not having the open support of Jonathan during the fights had been harder than his crazy athlete’s diet. It made him realize how deep their relationship had become, that such a small gesture carried all the meaning he needed to keep going.

  The whistle sounded again, and the second round began.

  As his ojisan had predicted, Noah tried to get as many punches in as possible. One uppercut almost knocked Leeland out and had him staggering back. Noah saw his chance and went right after Leeland. He jumped high in the air, twisted slightly, and aimed his right arm at Leeland’s back for an elbow strike. That kind of attack was particularly vicious and could open cuts or even bring an opponent down. Leeland ducked at the last possible moment, but he could still feel the rush of cold air when Noah’s body brushed past his. While his opponent was still busy landing on his feet, Leeland got in one kick at his ribs and a second one at his thighs. The third one, aimed at Noah’s face, was blocked, and they both danced back a few steps to regroup. Leeland could see Noah’s chest heaving and knew the man was as exhausted as he. Noah was also furious, his face red not only from the strain, but also from anger. The unrestrained hatred Leeland could see in Noah’s eyes made him shudder. It almost seemed as if the man was going mad.

  Before they could go at each other again, the whistle blew.

  Leeland was grateful for the one-minute break. Fighting was always strenuous, but this match against Noah was extracting everything from him. Again his ojisan started giving him advice.

  “You need to end this, Leeland. Preferably in the next round. You can’t take many more hits like the one from before. Be faster, be smarter, be harder! You can do it!”

  Leeland didn’t need his ojisan to explain to him that he wouldn’t last another two rounds like this one, let alone three. He had to knock Noah out, no matter how. It was swinging for the fences or facing possible defeat.

  When the whistle blew again and Leeland stood in front of Noah once more, his vision narrowed in on his opponent, and he felt the familiar focus that wiped everything beside the fight from his mind. He saw Noah lift his right fist to land a direct punch in his face, while the movement of his left shoulder indicated he was going for an uppercut. Leeland blocked the cut and brought his leg up, his knee hitting Noah under the rib cage, at the level of his kidneys. Noah gasped for air, his body twisting as the pain set in. Leeland had been at the receiving end of this maneuver before and knew he had to be fast now before his opponent could regain his senses.

  He took two steps away from Noah to get some room. Then he went into a roundhouse kick, striking Noah square in the chest. The man swayed on his feet, clearly unable to defend himself at the moment. Leeland jumped, locked his feet around Noah’s waist, twisted his body in the air, and sent them both to the mat, Noah in a submission hold between his legs.

  The roar of the crowd was deafening. Leeland knew all he had to do now was to hang on until Noah tapped out. Noah didn’t make it easy. He twisted like a worm on a hook, tried to punch Leeland, and landed a few good ones on his upper thighs that Leeland would fee
l for some time, but Leeland didn’t let go. He just squeezed harder and harder from his superior position on top of Noah, forcing the air from Noah’s lungs until he had no other choice than to tap the mat, which he did with an expression in his eyes that had Leeland shuddering. Never before had somebody looked at him with so much hatred and loathing in their eyes. All Leeland hoped for at that moment was that he would never ever see Noah Adams again.

  The whistle sounded again, this time to mark the end of the fight.

  Slowly Leeland got up. The referee came to him, grabbed his right wrist, and yanked it in the air.

  Leeland had won.

  He stood in the middle of the octagon, the cheers of the crowd washing over him, and tried to understand what had just happened. Rainbow confetti was raining down on him. Apparently many of the queer fans had come prepared for his victory, and rainbow-colored light sticks were lit everywhere in the arena. Two officials approached Leeland with the championship belt in their hands. They slung it around his waist before shaking his hand and congratulating him. He heard his ojisan and Greg laughing and cheering from somewhere beside him, but Leeland cared for only one voice in the cacophony erupting around him. And then Jonathan was there, right in front of him, with a broad smile on his lips and his arms opened wide. Leeland fell into his embrace, concentrating on the steady heartbeat in Jonathan’s chest that soon drowned out the noise from the crowd. There, in the arms of the man he loved, his brain finally caught on.

  He had won.

  He had really won.

  Leeland started crying. It was as if a chain that had been squeezing the air out of his lungs since he agreed to go pro had been taken away, and now all he could do was let all those pent-up emotions finally out. He didn’t care that crying was considered unmanly and weak. Hell, he’d just proven his manliness by winning the championship belt. He was entitled to some tears. Jonathan seemed to sense the change in Leeland’s body, because he tilted his head up with his right hand to look Leeland in the eyes. The love Leeland saw there through a veil of tears made his heart constrict. The world fell away when their lips met in a gentle, deep kiss that conveyed in this very moment what words could never hope to express.