A Dom and His Warrior

by Xenia Melzer

  Again Leeland focused on the chicken breast, wondering how he could manage to get some taste on it. So far Jonathan hadn’t complained openly about the extremely healthy and boring food Leeland served him, but the Dom loved his burgers and fries and other greasy delights. He’d better stop thinking about all the good things he was missing out on, or he would probably throw the chicken breast in the trash—which the poor animal that had died for him didn’t deserve. Perhaps if he marinated it in garlic oil… no, that would take too long. He was hungry now.

  The front door clicked, and Leeland heard Jonathan’s heavy steps in the hall. He smiled and turned around, waiting for his lover to enter the kitchen. There was a crash, followed by some colorful curses when Jonathan apparently found the stack of wooden planks Mike and Frank had left in the hall. Peyton was almost done with the renovation, and even Jonathan had admitted the apartment looked great now. Apart from the walls that had to go, the flooring and the ceilings had been changed as well, but the outcome of this complete makeover was breathtaking. They now had oiled, sand-colored hardwood floors in every room except the kitchen and bathroom, which were tiled with black marble. The ceilings were white to highlight the different color schemes Peyton had chosen for the individual rooms. It was all light and modern, with lots of steel, glass, and wood, and the occasional splash of color in a cloth, painting, or furniture to draw the eye. Even Collin’s carpet had found its place in the guestroom as a wall decoration. All in all, Leeland loved the new look of Jonathan’s—and his—place.

  “Hey, Leeland, what are you brooding about?” Jonathan’s voice right next to his ear startled Leeland from his musings. He turned to kiss his handsome Dom before answering.

  “Hello, Jonathan. About how nice the apartment looks.” He glanced at the chicken breast. “And how bleak dinner is going to be.”

  Jonathan laughed and pulled him into a hug. “It’s for a good cause and only temporary. We can do this.”

  “You really don’t have to join me in this nutritional madness.”

  “I know, honey. And I do get some bad, bad food now and then, when you’re not there to witness my fall from grace and be tempted by it, but I want to show you my full support. Besides, Garrett has mentioned how my new diet affects my performance in the gym and my body positively.”

  Leeland pictured Garrett Kiernan, Dom at Whisper, Emilio’s boyfriend, and gym owner. He looked up at Jonathan and raised a brow in question.

  Jonathan huffed. “Fine, he said it’s a good thing I stopped stuffing my face like a pig that’s being fattened for Christmas. And if I kept with his new training routine, I would perhaps manage to lose all the fat clogging my arteries and padding my muscles and look halfway decent.”

  Leeland nodded. That sounded a lot more like Master Garrett. The man was a fitness enthusiast and as blunt as a baseball bat to the head, especially when it came to people he knew well and liked. Somehow Leeland was glad that Greg was in charge of his training. Master Garrett would have been a lot worse.

  “You’re not fat.” Leeland meant it. Jonathan was built like the men who participated in the Highland Games, where competitors had to throw tree trunks and lift heavy barrels. Stocky, compact, the sheer power of his muscles hidden underneath some padding that Leeland loved, especially when they were cuddling.

  “You’re biased.”

  “I’m the only one whose opinion counts.”

  Jonathan laughed. “I’ll tell that to Garrett next time he harasses me. Now, what are we going to do with this chicken breast?”

  “Wrap it in bacon, dump it in gravy with extra cream, and top it with cheese.”

  “Sounds delicious, honey. Problem is we have none of these ingredients here. There is salad, though.” Jonathan sounded almost apologetic.

  Leeland whined. “I hate this! Have I mentioned how much I hate this?”

  Jonathan kissed him. “You have, and I know. It’s fine, you’re entitled to hate it. You just can’t have anything else for the time being. But I promise you, when this is over, I’ll take you to Mamma’s, and then you can eat until you explode.”

  Leeland groaned. The things Jonathan said to him! The promise made his cock harden in his pants—or at least his cock made an effort to harden. Training had just been too tough today.

  Jonathan kissed him on the cheek before he took a look in the fridge. “Let’s see what we have. Parmesan, salad, tomatoes, and olives. How about we fry the chicken breast with some of the chili oil I bought last week and mix it with the vegetables. The cheese should add some flavor. Did you eat your almonds already? If not, we can chop them and add them for crunchiness.”

  Leeland thought about the proposal. It sounded decent. Not like pasta and steak and tiramisu, but edible. And he didn’t have a choice anyway.

  “No, I haven’t had my five almonds yet. Crunchy salad with chicken breast it is.”

  Jonathan chuckled and pressed a kiss to Leeland’s head before he put on his apron that had the body of a Leather Daddy printed on it. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll add some extra coconut water to your protein shake tomorrow.”

  Leeland didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, he simply slapped Jonathan with one of the dish towels. Coconut water didn’t even make it on his list of food he liked. Unfortunately, he had to drink it every day. Mixed up with protein powder, oatmeal, and frozen berries, it wasn’t too bad, but Leeland resented it enough to think he could taste it everywhere. With a sigh, he watched as Jonathan started frying the chicken breast.

  “Have you drunk enough water?”

  There was a hint of worry in Jonathan’s voice that made Leeland’s heart beat faster. When Leeland’s training started, Jonathan had sat down with Greg to find out what he could do to help. Making sure Leeland was always sufficiently hydrated was one of those things. When Jonathan had realized how much Leeland resented drinking bland water, he had started experimenting until he found a way to make the liquid more attractive for Leeland. He could now choose from four different flavors, all approved by his ojisan, and Leeland was more than grateful that Jonathan had made the effort. His favorite was water mixed with half a cup of peppermint tea and a squeezed lemon.

  “Yes. Even more than required.” Leeland smiled when he saw Jonathan’s pleased grin.

  “I think the chicken is good now.” Jonathan turned the stove off and dumped the bits of chicken breast on top of the salad Leeland had prepared while Jonathan cooked.

  “There, doesn’t look too bad, does it?”

  Leeland stared at the salad. “No, it doesn’t. I still wish it were something else.”

  Jonathan patted his back. “Tomorrow you get your wish. Then it’s going to be tilapia.”

  Leeland groaned, remembering it was fish day the following day. At least it would be a different flavor. He took the bowl with the salad, carried it to the small kitchen table, and started putting the food on the two plates Jonathan set down. They ate in comfortable silence, and Leeland had to admit it wasn’t that bad. In Jonathan’s company, almost nothing was truly unbearable.

  AFTER DINNER they were just done washing the dishes when Jonathan’s cell pinged. He took it off the kitchen counter where he always placed it during their meals and looked at it. For a moment his face lit up, only to turn into a disappointed expression.

  “What is it?” Leeland was curious.

  “Nothing.”

  Leeland kept on looking at Jonathan with an intent expression. He always knew when his lover was trying to be evasive.

  Jonathan shrugged. “Just a reminder for the demonstration tonight. You know, Don and Thomas are showing the use of sounds at Whisper.”

  Of course Leeland remembered. He and Jonathan had been looking forward to that date ever since the fall schedule of events had come out. Richard believed firmly in regular demonstrations at Whisper, and Don was one of the best Doms in the scene. When he and Thomas took the stage, it was always a treat. Sounding was also something neither Jonathan nor Leeland had ever tried
before. After some discussion they had decided they were interested but wouldn’t do anything without proper instructions first, since the technique was not without risks.

  Leeland’s shoulders slumped. Just thinking about putting on some leather and going out tonight made his sore muscles protest loudly. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I completely forgot. And I’m just too tired. With my first fight scheduled in two weeks, Greg and Ojisan are working me extra hard.”

  Which was an understatement. The two acted like slave drivers. He saw Jonathan shrug.

  “It’s fine, honey. We’ll go some other time. This is surely not the last demonstration on sounds Don will give. And if it is, we’ll just ask him for a private lesson.”

  Leeland shook his head. “No, I think you should go, Jonathan. Just because I’ve turned into a ninety-year-old who has to go to bed at nine, you don’t have to skip all the fun. You’re already doing so much, and I’d hate for you to miss this. At least one of us should enjoy himself tonight.”

  Jonathan seemed torn. His amazing dark eyes looked down on Leeland, obviously trying to gauge how serious he was.

  Leeland slung his arms around Jonathan’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “I mean it. I’m boring company and will go to bed soon. Go out and have some fun. I expect you to come back an expert on sounding.”

  After another minute of contemplating, Jonathan nodded. “Fine. I’ll go.” He kissed Leeland on the nose. “I’d better take a shower now.”

  While Jonathan showered, Leeland finished cleaning the kitchen. When his Dom appeared in his tight leather trousers and a black silk shirt, Leeland felt a stab of something he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—name in his chest. All this gorgeousness wasn’t for him tonight. Jonathan kissed him goodbye, the smell and feel of the butter-soft leather and fine silk under Leeland’s hands almost more than he could endure. Now his cock was definitely interested, but Jonathan was already on his way out of the door.

  When he heard the front door close, Leeland felt the same stab in his chest again. This time he recognized what it was, though. A mixture of anger and self-pity. Anger because Jonathan had taken his offer to leave, and self-pity because now he was all alone in the apartment with only his aching muscles and a semi-hard-on as company. Leeland felt tears pooling in his eyes. He knew his emotional reaction stemmed from physical exhaustion and the pressure he felt weighing on his shoulders, which didn’t make it better or easier to bear. Rational thought could only carry him so far until it lost its power. What he needed now was chocolate. Or ice cream. Even better, both. He could always shovel the ice cream with a bar of dark chocolate. A quick inspection of the freezer reminded him of that ugly first day of training when he and Jonathan had gone through their food and thrown out everything he wasn’t allowed to eat. Damn, he needed the container of Häagen Dazs Cookies and Cream they had given to Jonathan’s mechanics. Who did such a stupid thing as giving away frozen sugar? Leeland knew looking in the drawer where he usually stashed his sweets would just make him depressed. He sank down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table and tried very hard not to start sobbing uncontrollably. He was not going to cry over sugar denied. Or a boyfriend who went to a sounding demonstration without him. He could do this, he was stronger than his urges, he was a fucking UFC fighter, a hard, tough man, a warrior, he was….

  Leeland felt his tears starting to fall. This was one of the things he hadn’t missed about competing—the emotional roller coaster induced by exhaustion and terrible food. He was so caught up in his misery, he almost didn’t hear the front door opening. Quickly Leeland wiped the tears from his face and tried to get the sobbing under control.

  “Did you forget something?” he yelled with only a soft quiver to his voice.

  Jonathan’s heavy steps resounded once again in the hall. There was no crash this time, so he must have remembered the planks. When he entered the kitchen, looking like Leeland’s personal god of BDSM with his black leather jacket still on, he took one glance at Leeland, opened his arms, and Leeland didn’t hesitate to jump from the chair and run into his embrace. Surrounded by the comforting scent of leather and Jonathan, Leeland barely heard the words his Dom spoke.

  “Yes. I forgot how much I love you. I forgot that we wanted to do this together. I forgot how important you are to me. I forgot that being with you is more important to me than attending a demonstration I wouldn’t be able to enjoy without you by my side. I’m sorry, Leeland. Sometimes I’m slow.”

  Leeland laughed and cried at the same time. When he calmed down a bit, he looked up into Jonathan’s face. “No, you’re not slow. You’re the best. I told you to go. It’s not your fault when I change my mind or, worse, don’t know what I want.”

  “Oh, boy. You’re under extreme pressure at the moment. Don’t think I don’t know it. I can see it in the way you tense up every time you enter your uncle’s gym. I can read it in your eyes when you tell me about your training.” Jonathan kissed his forehead, and Leeland could feel the love rolling off his Dom in waves. “One of the reasons I love you so much is because no matter what you do, you always give it your all. I’m just afraid sometimes Misaki and Greg are pushing you too far. You don’t have a safeword with them, and even if you had, I don’t think you’d use it.”

  Leeland snuggled back into Jonathan’s arms. “You’re right, I’m insanely stressed. All that pressure boils down to the fact that I don’t want to sacrifice an entire year of my life and have nothing to show for it. Despite not wanting to disappoint my ojisan.”

  When he spoke the words out loud, Leeland realized how true they were. The food wasn’t the problem. Nor was the training or the lack of sugar. The real problem was his fear of failing. And there was nothing he could do about that. At least, not immediately. Once he had his first fight and—hopefully—won it, he would become a little calmer. Or so he hoped.

  Jonathan lifted him up and carried him to the couch in the living room. There he sat down, arranged Leeland on his lap until he was facing Jonathan with his legs on either side of Jonathan’s thighs, his head pressed against the gap in Jonathan’s leather jacket, and started stroking Leeland’s back in soothing motions.

  “It’s fine, honey. Everything is going to be fine. I’m here for you, as are all your friends and your family. And you can’t fail in this. Your participation alone is a win. Just remember, this is about your uncle’s charity first and about winning second. You can’t lose your perspective, Leeland.”

  Leeland felt a shudder run through his body, and then he started to relax. Something inside him loosened, and for the first time since he started training, the knot of dread in his stomach unclenched.

  “I love you so much. Need you like breathing, Jonathan.”

  Jonathan hugged him even closer.

  “And I love you, honey. More than life itself.”

  Chapter 10

  LEELAND STOOD in a corner of one of the changing rooms in the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas and tried to tune out the distant roars of the hyped-up crowd. The fight going on out there was already in the final, third round, and it wouldn’t be long until it was his turn. He was properly warmed up, had received some last-minute briefing from his ojisan and Greg, and felt the tension coiling inside his belly. For his first fight, Sean Shelby and Mick Maynard, the fight matchmakers of the UFC, had paired him with Carlos Scamander, another newbie who would give his debut tonight. Carlos had his home base in Utah, came from boxing, and was everything Leeland was not—at least when it came to looks, which was probably the reason they had been chosen to fight against each other. He and Carlos were a study in contrasts. Where Leeland was slim, lean, and androgynous, Carlos was almost painfully masculine, with a stocky build and bulging muscles. He was a little shorter than Leeland, with a military buzz cut that highlighted his rough facial features, a square jaw, and a flat nose that had obviously been broken more than once—a typical boxer injury. Leeland had seen some videos of Carlos in the boxing ring, and he was suitably impressed. The man w
as quick on his feet and could let his fists fly like a double-bass drum. This wasn’t going to be an easy match.

  “Leeland, it’s time.” Greg poked his head through the door of the changing room. Leeland gave him a curt nod, then checked his four-ounce fighting gloves one last time. The fabric of the black fighting shorts he wore clung to his skin without restricting his movements and also highlighted his tight ass. It was something Leeland could have worn at Whisper, and the thought had him smiling. To imagine the same clothing was appropriate for both a gay BDSM club and one of the most macho-driven sports in the world did show a certain irony. Maybe there was a God, and he or she was laughing their head off every time a UFC fight started. Or maybe the world was just a funny place, and it would be good if more people came to appreciate that.

  Greg led him through the long corridor toward the arena. The smell of stale sweat, used socks, freshly spilled beer, and other, more unpleasant scents hung in the air and offended his nostrils. It had been too long since his last official fight, and Leeland found he hadn’t missed the stink at all, although here in the T-Mobile Arena, it had a mature quality different from the tamer smell of high school gyms, which reeked more of teenage hormones on the rampage. Yes, the beer definitely made a difference, even though Leeland wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.

  When he and Greg reached the entrance that would lead him to his side of the cage, he heard the speaker announce his name.