Fist to the Heart

Chapter Twelve - It's A First Time For Me, Too

They were looking at one another over the bathroom sink, as they were meticulously brushing their teeth to go to bed. It was something so familiar in that, and Johnny could feel his chest trying to expand way beyond its means, and it hurt a little, but, more importantly, he could not remember why it was all so easy to recognize because he had never been in that kind of situation before. He was pretty sure of that.

Ruslan's eyes were shining as he looked at Johnny. It was the least sexy situation they were in that very moment, yet they could not help giving each other an eyeful. Like they couldn't live without doing that.

"Come on, to bed," Ruslan said after they rinsed their mouths one last time.

"Am I really going to sleep with you?" Johnny asked, and felt a bit like a kid for asking that.

"Where else?"

"It's a big ass house. Is your bed the only one?"

"Are you trying to tell me you don't want to sleep in the same bed with me?" Ruslan placed his hands on his hips.

Ruslan was particularly pretty when he pretended he was mad. He was like some cute animal trying to look fierce. Maybe that was why crazy assholes like that Nigel thought they could hurt him. That was something that needed to be corrected.

"I promised your dad that I wouldn't keep you up late," Johnny explained.

"Hmm. And do you always do what you're told, Johnny?" Ruslan laughed.

"It's your dad. I must listen to him," Johnny pointed out.

"And why is that?" Ruslan grinned, apparently satisfied with Johnny's answers for some reason.

Johnny frowned. "Because he lets me date you or something."

He was clearly not smart enough to figure out what Ruslan was thinking that very moment.

Ruslan teased him. "Snake got domesticated."

"Hey," he protested.

Ruslan was bent on making him chase him to the bedroom. Johnny didn't have to pick up the pace much as he hurried after the other. He caught Ruslan's raised hands, probably in surrender, and made him stumble toward the bed.

"Do you think I'm domesticated?" He looked Ruslan straight into his deep blue eyes.

Ruslan just nodded and grinned.

"Then I should take you so hard tonight that you won't be able to sit right tomorrow," Johnny said, trying to sound menacing, but failing, by how Ruslan's eyes were glinting with mischief. "Ah, but you want that, don't you? So the real punishment would be," he let his words in suspension a little, "not to fuck you at all."

Ruslan made such a funny face that Johnny burst into laughter.

"You're kidding," Ruslan said. "Please tell me you are."

It wasn't like Johnny to resist when Ruslan was begging like that.

"Okay, you win, pretty." Johnny shook his head. "I'll fuck you. But gently."

Ruslan pouted.

"Yeah, and I'm serious," Johnny said. "I need all my strength to go against your daddies tomorrow."

"My daddies?" Ruslan's smile widened. "I know, right? It's like that with them. They both took care of me, just like a family would."

"Did your mom pass away a long time ago?" Johnny asked.

Ruslan shrugged. "I never met her."

Johnny knew he needed to stop. Ruslan's enthusiasm had vanished a little. It wasn't a good time to ask him about his dead mother.

"Let me hold you tonight," Johnny said without thinking.

The least he could do was to offer some comfort. Ruslan threw him a pleasant smile.

"Fuck me slowly or hard, just how you want, Johnny." Ruslan leaned in for a soft kiss. "I like being yours so much."

That wasn't the kind of proposition he could refuse. He could do that, fuck the man gently, and hold him tightly and show him why he mattered, even if only to a shmuck like Johnny 'Snake' Bryne.

Ruslan's skin under his fingers was smooth, as Johnny reached inside the other man's clothes. So smooth it felt unreal, just like anything else about this man. Johnny was not one for foreboding prophecies, but he could feel it, even in a quiet, pleasant moment like that; good things like this had a price. What it was and how he would pay it, he didn't know.

But that was something he knew - that he would do everything, everything he could, with every muscle and bone in his body, to pay that price. No matter what it was and what it asked of him.

Ruslan laughed softly as Johnny leaned in to draw a wet trail from the now exposed chest down on the lean abdomen muscles, stopping just for a bit of teasing around the belly button, and then going for the kill.

"Ah, Johnny," Ruslan whispered, and his long fingers were soon in his lover's hair, caressing, pulling, running through with gentleness well balanced by impatient and arduous roughness.

Johnny thought he knew what he liked most in Ruslan, yet the man still surprised him. Right now, even though he was a guest in that fancy house, Ruslan was treating him like an equal, like someone who deserved to be by his side, despite how different their worlds were.

"Could you hurry?" Ruslan pleaded with him. "I know how much you like to suck my dick, but I'd like to head over to the main course."

"Which is?" Johnny teased.

"Ha-ha," Ruslan said curtly, without one sign that he was amused.

"C'mon, pretty, you have to say it," Johnny insisted.

"Say what?" Ruslan teased in turn.

"Say: come on, Johnny, fuck my sweet ass already," Johnny used a whiny tone on purpose.

"I don't talk like that." Ruslan pushed himself up on his elbows and glared.

"My bad. I can't remember how you do sound. Remind me, pretty," Johnny said slowly.

"Oh, damn, so clever ... What should I do with you now?"

Johnny laughed. "Be a good boy and beg for my cock."

He was busy taking up Ruslan's cock out of his pajama pants and playing with the tongue around the head. Ruslan was delicious and elegant everywhere.

"Johnny, be a good boy and fuck me already," Ruslan ordered, but his voice was growing a bit breathily like he could not quite control it.

Johnny smirked, looking at Ruslan. "Then get on all fours, and I'll give you a ride."

The pretty man obeyed without protest. He was an expert at throwing away his clothes, and then placing himself on the bed, in the most proper position Johnny had to admit he had seen in his life.

He only needed to reach out and touch. Pushing apart the beautiful ass cheeks, he peered at the small hole. It was clear Ruslan had been fucked earlier that day, but his ass still looked good like that. Johnny put himself in position so that he could lick Ruslan as he deserved.

"Oh, fuck," Ruslan whispered. "You're so good with your tongue, Johnny, you know?"

"Aw, thanks." Johnny laughed and gave the little hole another long lick. "Then I'll stick here for a while."

"Don't you dare," Ruslan threatened. "Don't just stick there. Stick it in there. Catch my drift?"

"I think I do, pretty." Johnny got to his feet and sauntered by the bedside to grab the lube.

Ruslan had put it on the nightstand for easy access. It made Johnny feel all giddy inside and ready to admit defeat that Ruslan thought about all these things.

But there had been enough teasing. Now he needed to show him why he deserved to be considered a boyfriend. Ruslan wanted a fucking, and he would get a fucking, no questions asked. Johnny would fuck him into the next century if need be.

As he pushed himself slowly inside, he took his time to admire Ruslan's gracious back. He had moves. It made Johnny jealous to think that there had been others before him, watching Ruslan from above like that, sinking their dicks in that incredible ass, and thinking that they had him, that Ruslan, somehow, belonged to them.

No one was allowed to think that. Each thrust came with a sense of possessiveness that was scary. Johnny wasn't fighting it. Fear never scared him. Anyone hearing him saying that could tell him he was stupid. But it was the damned truth.

Ruslan moaned and arched his back, pushing his ass into Johnny's cock. "Oh, fuck, Johnny, you have such a great cock," he whispered.

"Do you want me to jerk you off?" Johnny asked.

"No." Ruslan shook his head. "I want to come from your dick; it's just so good."

Each word was a staccato whisper, Johnny carefully increasing the rhythm and getting more and more inside, deeper and harder. He had made a promise to Ruslan to take him slowly, but he could not fully keep it. It was beyond his means at the moment, and he was losing himself a little, but it was okay.

"How are you holding up, pretty?" Johnny asked.

"I'm close, I'm close," Ruslan confirmed. "Don't stop; just fuck me harder!"

It was just what he wanted, too. They were so on the same page when it came to sex that it was uncanny.

His heavy breathing mingled well with Ruslan's moans, louder and louder. Good thing there were no neighbors to worry about. They could bring the house down, and they couldn't care less.

"So good, fuck, so good, Johnny!" Ruslan shouted and, by how his lithe body was convulsing, he was coming, as promised, without touching himself.

Johnny knew he had to be thankful for such mercies. So he came, too, with a loud growl, keeping Ruslan's hips so tightly that he knew he would leave marks.

As he withdrew, his cock was still hard, and there was a rope of semen between him and the other that broke as soon as he pushed himself back. He could stay there and look at that beautiful ass, so generous in taking him, taking everything from him, too, in the process.

He could not watch for long. Ruslan let himself drop on the bed, and then he rolled away to look at him.

"Stop giving me that smug look," Ruslan teased him, but his eyes were smiling.

"I'm not," Johnny protested.

But he was smiling, too, and not only with his eyes.

"So you won't pout if I send you to sleep with just one time?" Johnny hurried and caught him under his weight as he pushed Ruslan into the bed.

Their naked bodies weld together. That was how they were.

"Somehow, it's enough when I'm with you," Ruslan said and pushed one hand through Johnny's sweaty strands of hair.

Johnny laughed. "I'm glad then."

"Don't get complacent, though." Ruslan pretended to be all serious but burst into laughter right away.

"Why are you laughing, pretty?" Johnny looked deep into his eyes.

"I don't know," Ruslan replied, and just laughed harder.

"Let me take you to the shower," Johnny offered. "Like naughty boys, instead of sleeping, we chose to fool around."

"Oh, are you complaining?" Ruslan glared this time.

"Not one bit," Johnny replied. "Hop up. I need to care for you, you know?"

"And that includes washing me?" Ruslan smiled.

"Among many other things," Johnny said. "And it's my pleasure to carry you around."

It was his pleasure to do everything with Ruslan, Johnny thought. And, by that, he meant everything.

***

He hadn't lied one iota. Ruslan knew that with the utmost clarity, that Johnny was doing a great job at satisfying him. His body did crave the man, but he was also left satisfied, and that was not something he could tell about anyone else in his life. Not even Yanis.

And now it was morning, and he felt like he hadn't slept that well in years. Maybe at first after his papa had saved him and his friend from that terrible place. By all means, his nights should have been plagued by nightmares, but that hadn't happened. Under his adoptive father's roof, he had finally felt safe. And that had given him restful nights like never before.

Once he had insisted on becoming more independent and living on his own, the feeling of security had waned. But Ruslan wanted to be strong by himself, and he could not do that if he were to live forever in the old man's shadow.

Yet, right now, a premiere since leaving his papa's side, he had slept so well, his head resting on Johnny's magnificent chest, his strong muscles the best pillow he could have. Johnny's soft, rhythmic breathing had lulled him to sleep, and he could not remember when he had fallen asleep.

Now it was morning, and Ruslan searched with one hand for his bed partner. Johnny was sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with a phone.

"Hey," he called in a sleepy voice.

"Hey, I didn't mean to wake you up." Johnny half turned. "Did you set your alarm to wake me up?"

Ruslan noticed only then that Johnny was holding his phone.

"Yeah," he said with a smile.

"You didn't have to." Johnny smiled back. "It's like I have an internal clock. I always know when to wake up. When I heard your alarm, though, I thought I was in the army or something. Also, I didn't want to wake you up. You're a bit of a late sleeper, aren't you?"

"Correct." Ruslan stretched and moved to sit by Johnny's side.

Johnny moved the phone from one hand to another.

"I didn't mean to be nosy," Johnny said a bit guiltily. "I just wanted to look at that picture you took yesterday."

Ruslan kissed his lover's cheek. "Don't worry. I don't have anything I'd keep hidden from you. Here, give it to me."

Ruslan navigated quickly through the menus to find the picture.

"Look at us," he said with a chuckle and held the phone so that Johnny could look at the picture while he sneaked one hand around his waist. "You look like a little lamb ready for sacrifice." He giggled.

"Hey, I was about to meet your old man," Johnny pointed out, a bit gruffly.

"And you made a great impression on him. I told you. That's big. And you are in his graces, too."

Johnny used one hand to trace invisible lines over the screen.

"You're beautiful here. So beautiful," Johnny said pensively.

There was a change in Johnny, Ruslan could tell. And maybe, just maybe, it was the same change taking place inside him, but he wasn't ready to start comparing notes. So he laughed.

"I had no idea you could be such a sentimentalist, Johnny." Ruslan ruffled his hair. "Let's send this pic to your phone since you like it so much."

"Is it wrong of me to like it so much?" Johnny's question sounded clumsy like the words were boulders tumbling down a steep hill.

Almost like a disaster in the making. But Ruslan felt like he was at the foot of the hill, waiting to embrace the rolling stones, and run away with them, like a river of bedrock on the move.

"No." He shook his head. "I like it. That you like it. That you like me."

There was no poetry left in him, except for stunted phrases and repetitive words. For a few seconds, they looked at each other, and their eyes said more than what their tongues and throats and vocal cords could.

"I knew you had to get up early," Ruslan said. "That's why I set up the alarm." He gestured with the hand holding the phone, eager to change the topic.

"Thanks." Johnny nodded. "I guess I need to go. Your daddies are slave drivers."

Ruslan laughed.

"I'd say they're no worse than you. Ah, let's not forget." He looked at his phone. "There. Sent to yours."

Johnny moved to take his phone and seemed lost in thought as he thumbed through something.

"I made it my wallpaper." Johnny waved the phone for Ruslan to see it with an almost childish grin on his rough face.

"Ah, I had no idea it took so little to make you happy." Ruslan smiled. "We'll take many other pictures then. We'll fill up a few albums if you want."

Johnny seemed to consider. "This one's special," he said, and his dark eyes were filled with warmth as he looked over at Ruslan.

It should have been easy to ask just what Johnny meant by that, but Ruslan felt that the moment was perfect as it was.

Only several minutes later, Johnny was out the door, ready to meet Ruslan's papa and Martin for the training session of his life. If he had been honest, Ruslan would have admitted that he should have warned Johnny more about how seriously boxing as a sport was taken in that family. But Johnny was quick to think on his feet. Ruslan had no reason to worry about him.

There were other things to worry about. Like how fast they were going. Like why he didn't mind. Why he was, actually, the one to pull all the strings to make it happen.

It. Ruslan didn't dare to call it by its name. But he lay on the bed, his eyes on the ceiling, looking at nothing, mainly because his entire attention, everything was turned toward the inside, and there only one question seemed to live.

Was he falling for Johnny 'Snake' Bryne?

***

Johnny could not say he expected what was right now in front of his eyes. Ruslan's papa had something like a ring at his house. And both his lover's daddies were there, dressed in tees and shorts like they were ready to get on with the training as usual.

He stole a glance, hoping he wouldn't be considered rude for staring. Without his fancy clothes, Mr. Kent looked lean and muscular. Martin, on the other hand, looked more like a bull. In his case, the butler livery hid quite an impressive physique.

Both men looked good, and not only for their age. They looked like they could take men twenty years their juniors. Johnny gulped nervously, as he moved to greet the two. He had been instructed to enter and find the place, so there he was. Now what?

Douglas and Martin seemed deep in conversation, talking in hushed voices. Johnny cleared his throat to let them know he was there.

"Johnny." Mr. Kent welcomed him with a smile.

Martin, quiet as usual, just nodded.

"Let's warm you up." Mr. Kent gestured for him to climb into the ring.

Without wasting words, Johnny obeyed. Mr. Kent began giving him orders spoken in a soft, yet firm voice. Johnny glanced over at Martin who was doing the same thing. He wasn't easily impressed, but, right now, he could not take his eyes off Martin.

Now he knew that he should not have joked about sparring with the quiet butler. Martin looked like he could take Johnny. Maybe not beat the crap out of him, seeing how he wasn't as young as his opponent, but Johnny knew great shape when he saw it.

"Great," Mr. Kent said. "Now let's see what you got, Johnny. Martin, please, grab the training pads."

For a while, they opted for some routine moves. Douglas was correcting Johnny on the go, in the same mild-mannered voice.

"Let's see the two of you spar now," Mr. Kent said shortly.

Johnny could feel his blood getting warm. Martin didn't look ready to break into a sweat, but he hadn't been the one punching the training pads for the last half an hour. Now, shit was about to get real.

And he had no idea if he should hold back anymore. As Johnny raised his eyes to meet Martin's, he knew.

The eyes of a real fighter were like that, impenetrable, not letting anything in. There was a lot to learn from staring into your opponent's eyes. You could tell if you were going against some crazy man, or against one who knew to strategize.

"Fight."

The order was short and precise. Keeping his guard up, Johnny began moving slowly toward his target. Martin looked undisturbed. A small move, as if Martin was trying to shake off one gloved hand, was his cue. He moved fast, reaching for the opening, but Martin stepped out of his way with grace uncharacteristic to a man of his size.

Johnny realized too late he had been tricked. Martin's gloved fist grazed over his side, not too hard, but enough to draw his attention.

"Stop. What did you do wrong, Johnny?" Mr. Kent asked.

Johnny shrugged. "I got fooled."

"Not entirely correct. Where were you looking?"

"At his fists," Johnny replied.

"You need to widen your horizon. Body language is often more important than positioning. If you had paid attention, you would have been able to tell Martin's intention. Let's try again. Fight."

Johnny shook his head. This was a whole different level. These guys knew head games. For a little while, he proceeded in the same manner, moving slightly to one side and the other, waiting for an opening.

Martin was a boulder, he was that unmoved. And then, in an instant, Johnny caught it. The little cue that he could invade the other's space. But, just as soon, he noticed Martin moving one foot forward, and then he knew.