by Kora Knight
Scott blocked each hit and dodged Tad’s leg. “Again.”
Tad sped shit up on his next two tries. But on the third, Scott threw in some fancy-smancy and blocked Tad’s kick with his knee. Next thing Tad knew, the dude’s other foot was up, giving his gut a shove. Tad stumbled with a laugh, barely keeping his balance. “Shit.”
Scott grinned and motioned him back. “Now you block mine.”
Tad nodded, assuming position, hands up to protect his face. Scott came at him with an easy stride. Jab-jab with the left, power strike with the right. Tad’s gloves intercepted each connect. Again and again, the pattern repeated. But Tad wasn’t an idiot and braced himself, knowing Scott was about to switch things up. Sure enough, he hit the gas and started to jack up the pace. Rapid-fire jabs, then a deluge of crazy. Tad managed to block the majority of shots, but took a direct hit to his thigh. He winced and hopped out of range.
Scott motioned him back with a smirk. “Where you going? I’m not done with you.”
Tad’s lips twitched. Arrogant fucker. Eyes narrowed, adrenaline flowing, he shifted to offense. With his own brand of suck-this, he charged the guy, firing off a sweet round of punches. Of course, the punkass dodged them all. So, Tad aimed a round house kick at Scott’s hip. Up came a knee to block the thing, then a high shin to knock him sideways.
“Fuck,” Tad laughed. “You’re a fast son of a bitch.”
Scott chuckled, resting his gloves on his hips. “Still think you can take me?”
Tad sighed. “Duking it out like this? Probably not.”
Scott’s eyes gleamed smugly. “You got another way in mind?”
Hell yeah, he did. And he’d been dying to test it out all night. Tad turned and scanned the corridor outside. The place looked close to deserted. A smile tugged at his lips. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Scott lifted a lone dark brow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” Tad grinned. “You game?”
“To burst more of your bubbles?” He shrugged like a big hunky brat. “Sure. Why not. What you got in mind?”
It was a good thing Tad was into the guy or he would’ve tried to clock him again. Glove-rubbing his chin, he fought back a smirk. “Ever tried wrestling?”
Scott stilled, eyebrows lifting. “Like WWF?”
“No,” Tad laughed. “Like high school and college. The real shit.”
“Oh,” Scott chuckled, then shook his head. “Then no, can’t say that I have. I mean, I watch it during the Olympics, but that’s about the extent of it.”
Tad’s grin widened. “Well, now’s your chance to change that. You obviously know the basics and your size advantage should make up for the rest.”
Scott smiled. “Not really worried. Pretty sure I can handle my own.”
Tad’s insides thrummed. “Well, come on then. Let’s see whatchu got.” Shit, he could barely contain his excitement. Wanted to knock Scott off his high horse so bad. Then do a little dominating of his own. Surely it had to be his turn by now.
Scott regarded him intently, as if relishing the idea of so much physical contact. Finally, he turned and scanned the room. “I dunno. We’d have to lay down some mats. But we’re kinda supposed to be outta here once our classes wrap. They’re not big fans of sessions off the books.”
Fuck. Tad did not want to lose this opportunity. “Come on, dude. Ten minutes.” He flashed a cocky grin. “Honestly, it’ll probably only take me five.”
Scott laughed, tugging off his gloves. “So confident. Not my typical shy boy.”
Tad’s jaw clenched. Shit. Scott still wasn’t going for it. He could hear it in his tone. He fidgeted restlessly, having waited for this moment for so damn long. “Wrestle me,” he blurted out, ditching his gloves, too. “And if you win you can have any prize you want.” Because, yes, he was indeed that confident. And really wanted to wrestle!
Scott paused, eyeing him curiously. “Any prize?”
Tad nodded. “Any prize.”
Scott glanced out the window then looked back at him. Slowly, his lips curved into a grin. “Are you serious?”
Again, Tad nodded, eyes fixed and resolute. “Totally. You win and your prize can be anything. That kiss you’ve been after. My ass to fuck. Whatever.” He crossed his arms and shifted his weight. “But if I put you down and keep you there?” His mind churned wildly. He had to make sure Scott gave it his all. “Hell, winning fair and square will be prize enough for me. Well, that and being able to hand you your brand new shiny title.” Making a right angle with his thumb and forefinger, he pressed it to his brow. ‘Loser,’ he mouthed with a sassy wink.
Like a taunted predator, Scott’s dark eyes hooded, smoldering with a raw kind of fire. Slowly, he closed the distance between them. “I accept your challenge.”
Tad held his gaze, part of him doing a victory shout while the other half fought to stay cool. “Awesome. I’ll help you grab the mats.”
Scott shook his head. “No need. We won’t be doing this here.” He turned and headed toward the back corner of the room, to another exit Tad hadn’t noticed. “Come on, Hulk Hogan,” he drawled, snagging up his duffle bag, shoes, and some keys. “We’re going to a private training room.” He grinned over his shoulder. “Where we can be alone.”
Tad’s cock roused behind its protective cup. Damn, that look was hot. But now was not the time to sport wood. He had matches to win. A buff guy to dominate. Kicking it into gear, he snagged up his own stuff and headed after Scott. Down a smaller hallway they padded, past a handful of doors. One by one, Scott locked them up, pausing to push the last one open. “Whoever teaches the night’s final class gets to close up shop.”
Nice. Talk about convenient.
Tad’s blood pumped faster as Scott gestured him in. This was it. He was finally going to get his chance. Entering the smaller, windowless room, he took a look around. A desk sat by the door, and beside that, a couple of cubbies. The rest of the space, though, was pretty bare; posters on the walls and that huge blue mat the only real accents of color. But that was okay. Tad didn’t need pretty. Just lots of maneuverable space. Which this place definitely had. Roughly thirty by thirty, there was more than enough room to get the job done.
The door shut behind him, then locked with a click. Tad turned to find Scott quietly watching him. Arms folded, thumb stroking the corner of his mouth. Tad stilled. Even subdued, Scott still looked virile. Powerful. Intimidating.
Tad’s eyes roamed his incredible physique. So big. And solid. Ready to pounce. His chest muscles visibly twitching. For the briefest of moments, Tad actually panicked. What if he’d let his idiot pride affect his better judgment? What if Scott’s brute strength was too much to overcome?
Glancing away, he eyed the mat. Sure, roughhousing with Ned had kept his skills sharp, but pretty boy was nowhere near as big as Scott. Breck was, though, and he’d wrestled him. Tad grinned at the thought. Time and again, he’d pinned that dude flat. Still, if Scott was able to take the win? He’d probably want to get shit cooking right there on the mat.
A sultry scene took shape in his mind. Scott, yet again, dominating the show. Telling Tad to jump and how high. Touching, tasting, teasing, taking. Lighting him fucking up.
Shivering, Tad blinked from his musings. That wicked image just solidified his determination to win. To do what it took to finally experience that kind of provocative control. Jaw clenching, he ditched all remaining self-doubt. He could do this. Had done it. Many times before. Often attesting to the very fact that it took more than brawn to win. Or body weight to force a guy’s submission. And Tad was about to do it again.
Mr. Tough Guy Cocky Pants wouldn’t know what hit him.
Tossing his stuff to the side, he strode to the center of the mat, then turned back to look at Scott. The dude was still standing exactly where he’d been, that gaze of his still locked and loaded.
“Well?” Tad smirked. “We gonna do this? Or will you be needing another rain check.”
Scott chuckled and shook
his head. “So eager to meet defeat.” Tugging off his shirt, he chucked it at Tad. “Sure you don’t wanna cut your losses and go with a blowjob instead?”
Tad coughed out a laugh. “I think I’ll take my chances.” His insides, however, weren’t quite as unfazed. He’d never even considered the fact that he might have to suck Scott’s dick. Shit, shit, shit. He wasn’t sure he could. Guess he’d better do this right so he didn’t have to find out. Rolling his neck, he gave a confident smile. “Besides, you know how bad I’ve been wanting to give you a proper spanking.”
Scott grinned, eyes blazing with pure male excitement. “Hmm. Wonder whose motivation to win is strongest.”
“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
Thing was, Tad knew how Scott got when he wanted to fuck. Silent but deadly determination. To this day, Tad had yet to ever tell the guy no. But whatever. Who cared. Tad wanted this bad. Could already taste Scott struggling beneath him. Utterly, mercilessly trapped.
Ripe anticipation broadened his smile. In high school, to pin a guy meant to hold his scapulars flat for two full counts. But they were big boys now and would be doing things college style.
Shaking out his arms, he went over the basics. “Okay, so, one count on the shoulder blades. No grabbing clothes. No locking fingers or hands. And, of course, if it ever gets to be too much? Feel free to tap it out.”
Scott laughed and dropped his duffle on the table. “Don’t hold your breath, shy boy. Gotta feeling it’s gonna be you crying uncle.” Unzipping the thing, he dug inside, then sauntered onto the mat.
Tad eyed his closed fist, wondering what the dude had grabbed. Scott merely lifted a brow and smiled. Then tossed a handful of packets to the side.
Condoms and lube.
A strangled laugh caught in Tad’s throat. “Jesus. Confident much?”
Scott’s roguish grin widened. “Very.” Slowly, his gaze raked down Tad’s body. “I mean, you’ve got some meat on you, babe, but you gotta admit, I’m still a whole lot bigger.” He crossed his arms and cocked his head. “Pretty sure we’d be in totally different weight classes.”
Tad refused to think about that. Besides, he had a lot more at stake now so that evened things out. Cracking his neck, he lifted his chin and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I didn’t make varsity captain for nothing.”
Scott’s brows rose high. “Varsity captain? No shit. This could turn out more fun than I thought.”
“Or more humbling,” Tad smirked, assuming position. “I am, after all, about to put you on your ass.”
Scott’s big shoulders bounced. “Is that right.” Mimicking Tad’s stance, he bent at the waist and slid his right foot forward.
Tad grinned. “It is indeed. You ready?”
Scott gave a nod.
Quickly, Tad’s brain formulated a plan. Like any sport, it was all about strategy. Such as the element of surprise. But he’d only get one shot. Because once Scott wised up to what he was bringing, there’d be no more of that. The dude was already packing crazy-wicked reflexes. So, Tad needed to get shit right the first time. Shouldn’t be too hard, though. Wrestling was its own brand of crazy. His every nerve hummed with anxious ardor.
Let the good times roll.
“On three,” he murmured, starting the count. “One… Two…”
Scott’s whole body braced, hands raised and ready.
“Three.”
Tad sprung off the line. Diving much lower than his opponent anticipated, his arms snapped around Scott’s right thigh. Head against Scott’s hip, he tightened his hold, shoving his knee down behind the guy’s foot. Scott stumbled as Tad shifted behind his leg and pressed against his ass. With a hardy shout, he powered forward, driving the guy face-first into the mat.
Scott went down hard, air exploding from his lungs. But before he could let out a single oath, Tad flung himself atop his back.
“Shit,” Scott grunted, starting to laugh. “Damn, babe. That was hot.”
Tad grinned against his ear. “And what we wrestlers call a takedown.” He shifted against Scott’s frame. Goddamn. All those firm muscles beneath him felt way too good. Way too distracting. He quickly broke contact and sat back on his heels. “Since in a real match, you would’ve ended up out of bounds, we’ll resume with you in a referee position.” Lips twitching, he swatted Scott’s thigh. “Up on all fours. Try to break free on the count of three.”
“Wow,” Scott chuckled, doing as told. “And here I thought I was the kinky one.”
Tad snickered and leaned his chest against Scott’s back, knee to his ass. But his smirk faded fast. Being against him like this was such new territory. But he loved it. Shit, shit, shit. He needed to focus. Left hand clutching the dude’s left elbow, Tad’s free arm wrapped around his abs. “You ready to kiss that mat again?”
“Only one thing I’m gonna be kissing, and it’s not this fucking mat.”
Tad fought not to picture that too vividly. Yeah, he was still insanely curious. Would love to know what it’d be like to lock lips with Scott. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to find out at the expense of a win. He’d wanted this, waited so damn long for the chance to get physical with the guy on his terms. In the way that got his blood pumping hard. Competing for dominance. And the utter submission of his opponent. It was a heady, invigorating thing. And his for the taking. Right here and right now.
He forced himself to concentrate. At the moment, it was all about Scott’s four-point balance. If Tad intended to make the guy eat his words, he had to take away his stability. And fast. He’d lose surer than shit if they ended up grappling. Scott was just too strong. Had too much power and speed.
Muscles coiling, he drawled against the dude’s nape. “Well, whether for me or that mat, those lips of yours are still gonna be getting a workout.”
“Bite me,” Scott laughed.
“Sure thing, big guy. If you win. On one.”
Both males tensed.
“One.”
Immediately, Scott twisted, shifting his weight. But Tad’s hand was already chopping that inside left elbow. The thick joint buckled, allowing him to hook the thing and pin it to Scott’s chest. In one point five seconds, he’d just stripped the guy of one majorly critical front stabilizer. And Scott knew it. He scrambled to lean to his right, but couldn’t stop Tad’s upper body and knee from driving him forward. Again, Scott bellied it hard into the mat.
Fuck yeah! Tad thought, once more on top of the guy. So bad he wanted to shout in triumph, but at the same time, didn’t want to jinx himself. Only an idiot would underestimate the man beneath him. Whose body heat was radiating up through Tad’s shirt. His muscles so firm and smooth against Tad’s fingers.
He struggled not to get caught up in the newness. Of him holding onto Scott instead of the other way around. Because technically he hadn’t pinned the guy yet. Though, in his defense, he hadn’t really been trying. He wanted to have some fun before it ended.
“Behold,” he grinned against Scott’s neck. “The infamous Mitchel Breakdown.” Feeling kind of cocky, he rolled his hips into the dude’s ass. “Like that?”
Scott stilled beneath him, then growled husky-low. “Do that again and I’ll show you just how much.”
Tad lifted a brow. The dude seriously thought he could manage that shit? Thought he could actually get free? Heh. Keep dreaming, big guy. No way in hell was he breaking Tad’s hold. Unless Tad got distracted. With Scott, all it’d take was one second of complacency to cost him the match.
So, he needed to stay focused and play it smart. But, God, to feel Scott struggling beneath him. His insides purred darkly. Screw it. He could get the job done even while having some fun. After all, very few things were half as gratifying as landing a wicked pin.
Tad rocked back into Scott’s butt. “Escaping me’s gonna be easier said than done. One wrong move and your ass is mine.”
Scott chuckled, hips canting to meet Tad’s grind. “Yeah, but one right move and your ass is—” Without warning, he
threw his weight to the side, clearly trying to send Tad tumbling. But Tad was wrapped around him pretty tight so only managed to liberate his arm. Elbow freed, Scott braced his forearms, readying to push himself up.
A move Tad had totally been expecting.
Quickly, he straddled Scott’s bulging right hamstring then grabbed the guy’s left forearm and yanked it back under his chest. Scott grunted, fighting his hold. But Tad was already shifting his weight onto the dude’s upper body. Down went Scott’s left shoulder into the mat. Before he could so much as utter an oath, Tad’s right hand reached up and grabbed hold of his nape.
Hello, half nelson.
Scott’s snarl of frustration echoed off the walls.
So did Tad’s happy little growl.
He’d just rendered Scott immobile. And holy shit, did it feel good. Heart hammering, he licked his lips. Then licked Scott’s ear, too. The big guy froze, then chuffed out a curse. So, Tad grinned and did it again. “Shit, dude. You taste as good as you feel.”
A subtle shiver ran down Scott’s frame. “I’ve got other parts that taste even better.”
“I can imagine,” Tad murmured. Like his mouth. And neck. His biceps and abs. And yeah, even his big fucking—
Ooookay, no more indulging. Tad needed to seal the deal. Because as much as he was having a blast, the dude was frying his brain. And making his dick really hard.
Reluctantly, he shifted off Scott’s body, still holding the guy’s neck and arm. “Alright, dude,” he grinned, his feet securing purchase. “Time to take my win.”
Scott braced every inch. “Good luck with that.”
Thing was, it didn’t matter how tight he tensed. Wrestling easily skirted that shit. As Tad was about to demonstrate. Mind focused, his chest powered into Scott’s side, coming at him nearly perpendicular. His strong hips were next to follow. Unyielding, they shoved Scott onto his side, rolling his head and shoulder closer to game over.
