Chapter Four - Fools Play By The Rules
Johnny was damned pleased with himself. He had that pretty boy in his pocket, and he would pick up a nice paycheck while at it. The playful banter between them was almost making him think there was more there than it truly was.
The thing was Ruslan was frigging beautiful. A hot thing in bed, too. Plus, he could go at it, by what he had said, and what Johnny had seen with his own two eyes, for enough time to satisfy both of them.
Guys he knew and fucked loved to be taken hard. They had no issue with being used. But no one had been as hungry for cock as this pretty man. Nor as beautiful. Only thinking about those blue eyes, burning with lust, was making him hard as a rock.
It had been nothing but an impulse to stake a claim on Ruslan Kent in front of the others. No one messed with his toys. He wasn't protective, or possessive. Whoever dared to piss on his turf was bound to end up with a broken nose or worse, though. It was all about respect.
Yeah, he took one look in the mirror, as he flexed his arms a few times, to work out some kinks from his shoulders. A satisfying pop on each shoulder and he was good. Pretty boy Ruslan Kent could have anyone. So the fact that he chose some low life fighter from the wrong side of the tracks like him had to stand for something.
Johnny was not one to fool himself. He knew what he was and where he was coming from. There was no pedigree dangling around his neck. Nor was he rich. One look in the mirror could tell him he didn't exactly have a face that made sexy guys drool over him.
But he was rough and tough. And some, even pretty men like Ruslan Kent, liked that. Forget about being nothing but a mutt. He knew how to fight, and he knew how to fuck.
And it seemed that those two skills he had honed to perfection were the only needed to nail someone like Efige's boss's son and nail him hard.
He wasn't going blindly into this. There was money to make; that was true. There was a sexy ass to fuck and came attached to a lean body and a frigging beautiful face. At least for the duration of the tournament, he would have the time of his life.
Of course, sweet lips knew that, too. Ruslan wasn't buying into his bullshit. But it was a game both liked, so it was all 'kay.
No one would buy some picket fences crib in the suburbs. But, boy, Johnny grinned in the mirror, Ruslan would get fucked all these weeks to last him a decade. And Johnny would fuck his fill, too, because an opportunity to get freaky with a guy of that caliber was sure to come once every ten years.
***
Wasn't that just some stupid luck? Johnny grinned when he saw his opponent jumping in the ring. The man's ugly scar seemed darker under the hot neon lights, drawing Johnny's attention to it. With a little luck, he would give him another tonight. Or just split the one he had right open.
Yeah, Unibrow would bleed, Johnny nodded to himself. He eyed his enemy and, in turn, the other grinned at him, showing misshapen teeth.
Johnny hoped Ruslan was watching this. Right now, he needed to focus on destroying the scumbag in front of him. That was some dumb twist of fate, right there, to have in the arena, ready to go against him, the idiot he wanted to fuck up.
Unless, of course, it had all been arranged for him to meet the asshole who had dared to insult Ruslan in front of him. That was even better. It meant that Ruslan wanted to see him at work. Evaluate him. See if he was fit, after all, and if he only talked bullshit.
He didn't. And he would prove it, by sending the scumbag to the floor within the first minute of the match.
***
Ruslan watched in shock as Johnny's opponent hit the floor with a thud.
"What the hell?" He turned toward the old man. "How come Snake is fighting this dude of all the fighters available for this round?"
His father shrugged, but Ruslan could smell a lie from out campus, even when it was his papa doing the lying.
"C'mon, why?" he complained. "Do you really want to see him out of the picture? He'll do something stupid. I thought you wanted him."
"Not as much as I want him away from you," the old man replied.
They watched the match from a private booth, partially obscured from the ring.
"You can't be serious," Ruslan mumbled. "I won't give up on fucking him just because you say so."
"Ruslan, aren't you a bit too old to have a rebellious phase?" the old man scolded him.
His father was calling him by his name, and not the endearing alternative when he wanted to show his disapproval.
"Seriously, don't you have a bit of trust in me? What do you think will happen? I told you. He won't hurt me," Ruslan said stubbornly.
The old man said nothing for a while, as he continued to watch the game. "A good fighter is not the one who can throw the heaviest punches, or move the quickest. Consider this a test. If Snake fights like a stray, with no care for rules, I don't need him in my ring."
"Weren't you the one going after him? Since when do you change your mind overnight?" Ruslan asked, feeling his irritation growing.
In the ring below, Snake was sending his opponent to the floor for the second time.
"Since you're making an obsession for him. Should it have been just one time, I would have had nothing against it."
"Obsession? Aren't you exaggerating a bit?"
"Ruslan, he called you his," the old man said sternly. "That's unacceptable."
"Why? It's only a frigging joke! He doesn't mean anything by it! How dumb do you think I am? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're like one of those doting fathers who never let their daughters marry because no guy is ever good enough for their little princess!"
The old man threw him an odd look. Ruslan could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
"Oh, no, you are," he said, but the words came out of his mouth hesitantly. He could not believe this. "Seriously?" he exclaimed, seeing that the man didn't deny it. "I survived the orphanage. I survived the streets. It's not like I'm some Red Riding Hood in peril of being devoured by the big bad wolf!"
The old man chuckled and shook his head. "I know you're not, Russy. But you're in my care now. C'mon, after Snake messes up his debut, let's go somewhere you like. There's a new club opening. And it caters to gentlemen of a certain persuasion, such as you. You'll love it."
"Oh, damn, you want to cruise the gay clubs with me now?" Ruslan sneered.
He had no idea why he was getting so worked up about. It wasn't like the old man ever wished him any harm. But being treated like he was twelve now felt like a boot crushing his windpipe. Strangely enough, his father's overbearing care and attention hadn't bothered him before.
Yanis had called the old man a freak. And Ruslan wasn't blind. Maybe his obsession with protecting Ruslan wasn't exactly healthy. But they were nothing like that. The old man had never asked for any sexual favors; he had demanded respect. And so far, with minor mishaps, Ruslan had shown respect. Affection, too, although that hadn't been explicitly asked.
Still, at the moment, he felt revolted at being pulled back by the old man's short leash. It wasn't even because he wanted Snake that badly, although he did. It was a matter of doing what he wanted; and for that reason, he did feel, indeed, rebellious.
The old man sighed. "Snake will show his true colors. You cannot think he's serious about you now, can you?"
"I told you," Ruslan said through his teeth, well aware that he sounded like a fifteen-year-old whose parents didn't want to let him hang out with his friends at some after dark party. "It's bullshit. He brags I'm his boyfriend, and I don't care about it. We both know it's not true. We're just screwing around. C'mon, stop pestering me. I only look to get laid, that's all."
"I only have your best interest in mind, Russy. Snake might have ulterior motives."
"Like what? Marrying me and inheriting your big ass fortune? Give me a break." Ruslan threw his hands down. "You know that's not the case. It's not like I'd ever get married, anyway. And I don't want to inherit anything. Leave everything to your relatives. What you're giving me now is more than enough."
"Ruslan!" the old man boomed.
Ruslan made himself little in his chair. He shouldn't have spoken so casually about what would happen after the man died. "Sorry, papa," he said meekly.
A paper like hand rested on top of his. "You can do better than Snake, Russy," the old man said, appeased now. "And you will inherit my fortune. I don't care what the entire world says about it."
"But won't that invite trouble?" Ruslan said, moving his hand enough to grab the other's. "I know those vultures. Tell them they'll get everything. At least they'll leave you alone."
"It will be a cold day in hell when I'll let that happen." The old man set his chin high. "They deserve nothing. All they ever wanted from me was money."
"I want money, too," Ruslan joked, to ease the atmosphere. The old man's relatives were a sore point.
His father caressed his cheek tenderly. "You're bringing me joy in my old years, Russy," he said. "That's all that matters."
"Joy, really? Because it looks like I only give you headaches. Okay, papa, if Snake makes a fool of himself in the ring, I won't have anything to do with him. But at least give him the benefit of the doubt. You gave me a chance. Who wouldn't you give him one, too?"
"Fine," the old man admitted. "You're right. Let's see how he's faring now."
***
Damn scumbag was built like a brick house, even if he didn't look like it. Johnny had already sent the asshole to the floor three times, but he was still getting up. It wasn't that he would lose, but it didn't seem to be as easy as he would have liked. Ruslan would think him soft if he didn't sort this fast.
He circled his opponent, trying to gauge his weaknesses. The man had no style. He was throwing punches and kicks as if he was in a street fight, not a ring. Johnny knew the kind. The type of animal you have to squash under your heel so that he never gets up again to bite you.
An opening presented itself when Unibrow put down his guard, hoping to get him to act recklessly. But Johnny was now strategizing. He jabbed, making his opponent's head jerk back. The scumbag put his guard back up.
It was time to let the idiot think he had a chance. Dancing around him, Johnny feigned a grimace and worked his shoulder. Hmm, strange, he thought. Unibrow wasn't taking the bait. What the fuck was going on there? Could it be that the monkey brain had smelled the setup?
Johnny hadn't earned his nickname only because of his quick attacks with the pinpoint accuracy of a neurosurgeon's knife. The difference between him and the rest of the losers was that he knew how to use his head.
And that kind of play smelled fishy to him. He tried again, this time making it more visible.
Still, there was no response from the other. Instead, the scumbag was trying to bait him, too.
Johnny's mind was now frantically searching for an answer. What the fuck was this idiot trying to pull? He needed to finish this match. And he had thought the rings at Efige were clean. Not so squeaky it seemed.
