DS Fight Club Box Set (Volumes 0-3)

by Josie Kerr

  “You don’t have to go.”

  Derek ran his fingertips over Junior’s quirked eyebrow and down the side of his face to his jaw. When his fingers got to Junior’s plump lower lip, Junior caught his thumb between his teeth.

  Junior set his mug on the nightstand and then pulled Derek toward him. He opened Derek’s robe, exposing his bare chest, and pressed his lips to his body. As Junior peppered kisses across his torso, Derek stroked the back of his head and his shoulders.

  Junior paused, his head resting on Derek’s abdomen, Derek’s hands cradling the back of Junior’s neck. He breathed in deeply and rubbed his stubbly cheek over Derek’s stomach. Derek continued to cradle his head in his hands, petting the back of Junior’s bald head with soothing strokes.

  “I see you’re still wearing the banana hammocks.” Junior looked up, his mouth twisting in a grin as he began working the tight underwear over Derek’s hips and buttocks. “I didn’t notice last night . . . .”

  “What can I say? I’ll like feeling . . . contained.”

  Derek sucked in a breath when Junior took him in his mouth—first just the head, but then the entire length. Junior drew Derek deeper into his mouth, wrapping his hands tighter around his hips.

  “Junior, hold up. Junior . . .”

  Derek pulled back, his now hard cock springing out and slapping against his belly. He adjusted himself and tightened his bathrobe. He took Junior’s face in his hands once more. He started to say something but snapped his mouth shut when Junior covered his face with his bruised hands.

  “God, I’m sorry, Derek. Sorry. I thought . . .”

  Junior sprang up and began to hurriedly dress. Derek grabbed Junior’s shoulder. “Stop, Junior.” He stepped around him. “Just stop.”

  “What are you doing, Derek?” Junior murmured when Derek pushed down the jeans he’d pulled on.

  “I want to do what I’ve been imagining doing for twenty-five years, if you’ll let me.”

  Junior slowly nodded, and Derek dropped to his knees, pulling his jeans the rest of the way down. Derek mouthed Junior’s hard cock through his boxers, stopping to chuckle. “And I see you’re still wearing grandpa underwear.” He eased his fingers through the fly to stroke his length. “Though I have to say, the ease of access is a definitely plus.”

  Derek closed his eyes and began to circle the head of Junior’s cock with his tongue. Junior sucked in his breath as Derek pulled his length deeper into his mouth.

  When his cock hit the back of Derek’s throat, Junior moaned. Derek began to hum around him, and Junior’s cock twitched, growing harder and larger. Derek gagged for a split second, but then he adjusted to Junior’s length and continued worshipping his cock with his mouth.

  Junior whimpered, and he wound his fingers in Derek’s hair, pulling him close. And then he began to move, thrusting into Derek’s mouth, bumping the back of his throat until Derek began to swallow him down. Junior tightened his grip on Derek’s hair and pulled his head back.

  “Mano, I need your eyes on me. I’m close.”

  Derek obeyed and opened his eyes. He looked up and met Junior’s hot gaze as the man standing above him continued to fuck his mouth, grunting and growling with each push.

  “You swallow now, Derek?” Junior growled at him, and Derek nodded, still sucking and licking at Junior’s cock. “Good. Because I’m coming.”

  The first hot spurt hit the back of Derek’s throat, and he swallowed, and kept swallowing until Junior abruptly pulled out. Junior grasped his cock in one fist and gripped Derek’s hair in the other, pulling his head back, his gaze still boring into the other man’s eyes, and he exploded in big ropy spurts, covering Derek’s chest and neck and part of his lower face.

  Derek remained still until Junior finished, until he stroked Derek’s eyelids and eyebrows, and ran his fingers through the sticky evidence of his orgasm that coated Derek’s shoulders and chest.

  Derek grinned and pulled Junior’s softening cock into his mouth, cleaning him, and then he kissed his heavy ball sac and that sensitive space behind.

  Junior smiled down at him, and Derek winked.

  “Shower?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

  “Definitely,” Junior answered. “Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After showering and another brief make-out session, Junior and Derek parted ways, with Derek surprising Junior by kissing him on the front porch in full view of a gaggle of neighbors and then waving at the gawkers before they each got in their cars.

  Now he sat in his car in a deserted parking lot, checking the texts and calls he missed when he turned his phone off after Derek led him into the bedroom. He texted his sisters, all three of them, to let them know he wasn’t dead in a ditch (his mother’s favorite guilt-inducing phrase) and rolled his eyes when they all three immediately texted back, fussing, but happy to know that he was fine.

  He saw missed calls from Ryan and Colin, as well as a voicemail, but when he listened to the recording, he heard only from Colin. He stretched his back and then settled in for a long talk with his former trainee.

  Junior called Colin at DS Fight Club, and the two traded pleasantries before they got down to business.

  “Junior, from the sound of it, things are still really unsettled in New Jersey.”

  Junior grunted. “More or less. I didn’t honestly think that I would be up here this long.”

  “Do you plan on coming back to Atlanta?” Colin asked after a long pause.

  Now it was Junior’s turn to fall silent. Thoughts coursed through his head. Colin’s retirement freed Junior up to work with other fighters, but he hadn’t found that one fighter yet. The DS Fight Club roster was small, and the fighter community in Atlanta, while growing, wasn’t anything compared to that of Newark. And now that MMA was finally legal in New York State again? Lots of opportunities presented themselves.

  And in the back of his head, Derek beckoned. Their lunches and evenings at Big Tommy’s had reestablished their easy friendship, but they weren’t just talking about the past, reliving the past; they were creating new memories, new experiences whose foundation was in that shared past. Junior thought of their relationship as a nice blend of comfortable and interesting.

  Lately, he’d noticed more than a little bit of interest and heat on Derek’s part and surprised himself by wanting to reciprocate the little touches, the pauses in conversation, the not-so-subtle flirting. It would be nice to have an actual relationship with someone—someone whose real name and address he knew, not just their voicemail number or their peepshow booth number. Someone he had a real connection with.

  Colin’s snort redirected his attention to the conversation.

  “The fact that you sat there for so long without talking tells me all I need to know, Junior. When does Manny want you to start?”

  “About three minutes after I stepped foot into his gym, man,” he said with a light laugh. “Look, I’m sorry. There’s a lot of shit that I need to really think about. I don’t have any dedicated fighters up here, but I really think it’s just a matter of time.”

  “What about splitting time between DS Fight Club and De La Garza’s club? I mean, we know Manny. Hell, he’s as responsible for my success as you are. How would you feel about working with your guys that you’ve got up there and then taking on Dig?”

  Junior frowned. “Dig’s fighting in the expo?”

  “Uh, no. That’s purely for the unranked guys. But I’ve been hearing Dig’s name bantered around for other fights.”

  “About what?” Junior thought hard and almost dropped the phone when he pieced things together. “You’re talking title elimination match, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t know for sure, but if I were a betting man, I’d lay it all on the line that DiGiacomo is real high on that contender list.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yep. And you know he’s a striker. I can he
lp him with his grappling and wrestling. Hell, he wrestled in college; he knows what he’s doing. But you can take him to the next level as his boxing coach, and you know that.”

  “Shit,” Junior repeated. “You’ve given me even more to think about.”

  Junior heard Colin chuckle and then expel a breath. “I want you to think about something else.”

  Junior pinched the bridge of his nose. He was almost afraid to hear what Colin was going to tell him. “Yeah?”

  “No, I don’t want you to think about it; you need to do something for me.”

  “Anything,” Junior said without hesitation. Junior could think of only two times that Colin had asked him to do something. The first was to be his trainer. The second was to stand up for him at his wedding. If Colin needed him to do something, he’d be glad to do it.

  “Call Ryan. Check on him.”

  “Sure, I was going to do that after we got off the phone anyway. Why? What’s going on?”

  Colin made a sound that Junior recognized as one of frustration.

  “God, I feel like I’m tattling on him, but if anyone understands what he’s going through, it’s you. He’s been coming late to training sessions, if he shows at all. I’ve been flexible because I know he’s in a lot of pain from his PT, but . . .”

  “But what, Gordo? Spit it out.”

  “I think he’s doing some heavy self-medicating.”

  “He drinking on the job?”

  “Not on the job, no, but I think probably right before. I swear I’ve smelled booze on him when he’s come in a few times. It’s not affecting how he does the job . . .”

  “At least yet.”

  “Right.”

  Junior knew that not having a cutman on site wasn’t a deal breaker, but he also knew that Ryan’s participation in the training sessions was as much for the man’s mental health as it was for the fighters’ physical health. He also knew that Colin had had his own battles with alcohol abuse, so he knew the signs and the ramifications of such self-destructive behavior; if it was actually happening, the drinking endangered everyone.

  “Please give him a call, Junior. I think he needs someone that he feels safe with, and I know that’s you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll call him. I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”

  “Thanks, J. Call me back when you’ve talked to him.”

  “Will do, C. And I’ll give you a decision about splitting time between here and Atlanta.”

  The men said their good-byes, and Junior hung up the phone and rested his head in the middle of the steering wheel.

  Ryan, please don’t let this be as bad as C thinks it is.

  But in his heart and mind, Junior knew it was most likely worse.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is the second time I’ve caught you tiptoeing into the house like a guilty teenager.” Marta snickered at her brother when he jumped a bit at the sound of her voice. Junior grinned sheepishly. “I appreciate the text this morning, but next time, let us know if you won’t be home so we don’t wonder where you are. I halfway expected a call from the police, telling me you were in jail for beating that idiot Gene to a pulp.”

  Junior blanched a little at the mention of Gene but quickly recovered when Marta gave him a curious look.

  “Yeah, I . . . was . . .”

  Marta snorted. “Oh, please, Junior. You don’t have to tell me where you were. I just got worried when you didn’t call or come home. With all the craziness that’s been going on, I need to know you’re safe, okay?”

  Junior nodded. “Yeah, Marta. I’ll make sure I let you know.”

  “What are you up to today, then? Going to Manny’s?”

  “Yeah, after I make a few calls.”

  Once again, Junior sat in his nephew’s room and called Ryan. The phone rang a few times and just when Junior was about to hang up, Ryan answered with a slurred, “Junior, I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Ryan, man, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Maybe. Why the fuck not? I don’t have anywhere I have to be.”

  “What about the fight club? C said you’d been missing training sessions. He’s worried about you. We all worry about you.”

  Ryan barked a bitter laugh. “Oh yeah. Everyone’s worried. Everyone’s worried about poor, fucked-up, limp-dick Ryan.” He hiccupped.

  Junior sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ryan, we are.” He blew out a breath, trying to figure out what to say. “I wish I was there so I could see you in person, talk about what was bothering you, help you.”

  “I wish you were here, too. I wish you were here. With me.”

  “Ryan . . .”

  “I wish you were here with me, Junior, even though I’m not nearly man enough for you. I’m a coward, Junior, a fucking coward.”

  “Ryan, you are anything but a coward. You’ve got a Purple Heart. You made sure your brother’s body got returned safely, that his wife had a body to bury. You almost lost your life doing that, man. You’re not a coward.”

  Ryan scoffed. “None of that matters, not when it’s a goddamn lie. I just wanted him to admit he had feelings for me. Just once. That’s all.”

  Junior had a sinking feeling that he was hearing something that Ryan had never told anyone else, and he wished beyond reason that he was there to hear it in person. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them.

  “Who, Ryan?”

  “I just wanted Conway to admit it, but he never did. And then she came to see me, to thank me, and I just sat there and didn’t say anything at all.”

  “Who came to see you?”

  “Conway’s wife, Rebecca. She stopped by to fucking thank me and introduce me to their baby, Junior. I got to meet his baby. I did. The guy that was fucking her husband. I was fucking him and couldn’t even save him. Why thank me when I couldn’t save him?” Junior could hear Ryan suck in a sobbing breath. “I couldn’t fucking save him!” That last sentence was shouted, and Junior could hear something break as it smashed against the floor or wall.

  “Ryan? Ryan? You here with me, man? Ryan?” Junior, thankful that he had called Ryan on the landline, texted Jason, Ryan’s brother, telling him that he needed to get home and see to Ryan, and warned him that he might need the police or an ambulance or both.

  He tried again. “Ryan, listen to me. You did her a kindness by not telling her.”

  He heard some sniffles. “Yeah?”

  Thank God. “Yeah, you did. She has good memories of her husband and the father of her child. You did good, buddy.”

  “Junior, I was so scared.” Ryan whispered the words so quietly that Junior could barely hear him. He didn’t think that Ryan knew he was speaking out loud.

  “I’d be worried if you weren’t scared, Goody.” Junior hoped that using Ryan’s nickname would soothe the man.

  “Not that fucking night, man. I’m talking about the night before you left.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Fucking fireworks. I about shit myself when they went off right next to us.” Junior tried to deflect back to when they were at the club, not the events that happened after the club, because neither he nor Ryan was in any shape to hash out that particular set of fucked-up-ness.

  “No, no, no, no. Not the fucking club. After. What happened after.”

  “Are you asking me?”

  “No, I’m telling you I was a coward for running off and being fucking scared. And now you’re back home, and I miss you, and I missed my chance to be with you because I’m a fucking coward.”

  “God, Ryan, no.” Junior sighed. “I want to talk with you about this when you’re not drunk, okay?”

  “Hold on. Someone’s at the door.”

  Junior heard the phone clatter. He could Ryan talking to someone, and then yelling at someone.

  Ryan came back to the phone. “You fucking called the cops
? What the fuck, Junior? We were just talking! Just fucking talking! I thought I could tell you anything; you told me that! Fuck you, Maldonado! Fuck you!”

  And the line went dead.

  Junior redialed the number and the phone rang and rang, finally going to voice mail. Next, he called Jason, who didn’t answer either.

  “FUCK!” Junior slammed his fist into the wall, chipping the drywall. It felt good, so he did it again. By the time he was finished, he was hoarse from screaming obscenities and Beto’s wall had a good-sized hole it.

  Junior sank to the floor with a gasped sob and sat there, facing the damaged wall, until he felt his sister’s hands on his shoulders.

  “Junior, what is going on?”

  He felt Marta slide down the wall to sit beside him, and they sat shoulder to shoulder in the small bedroom.

  “Come here, Junior. Come here.” Marta wrapped Junior in her arms, hugging him tight. “Go on. Spill.”

  So Junior told her about the events of the night before, about confronting Gene, about beating him until he was almost dead, about staying the night with Derek.

  “Humph. I have a lot of opinions about that,” Marta said. “But I want to know why you punched a hole in Beto’s wall and why you’re sobbing in the corner about a man you aren’t dating.”

  “I’ll pay to get the wall repaired.”

  Marta snorted. “You think this is the first time a fist has gone through the drywall? In this house? Please.” She bumped his shoulder. “Now tell me about Ryan. It is Ryan, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s Ryan. His head is fucked up bad, Sis. Like I was when I got back, but with added guilt.”

  “Do you think he’ll hurt himself? Do you need to call someone?”

  Junior shook his head. “I called someone, and now Ryan’s pissed as hell at me, but that’s okay. He can get mad as long as he stays safe. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “So, what happened between the two of you? And don’t lie by omission this time.”

  Junior told her an abbreviated version of their Halloween that seemed to be heading toward something more—that is, until someone set off fireworks and triggered Ryan’s PTSD. He told her about bringing Ryan to his apartment and holding him for hours until the younger man quit shaking and finally went to sleep, only to leave without a word.