Breaking Beast (Pounding Hearts)

by Izzy Sweet

  The man looks from me to Christy then laughs loudly. “What is it with you fighters when you bring your girls in the dressing rooms? It’s like all the testosterone heads south.”

  I force my body to shiver out the arousal as much as I can.

  He’s right, I have no clue what came over me but I was about to take Christy right then and there. If he would have walked in a minute later, I would be ripping her panties off with my teeth.

  “God.” Christy laughs then points at me accusingly. “Get all that blood back up to your big head.”

  Frowning, I take a seat by the table as the official goes over all the rules and regulations. He then checks that my hands are properly taped up before making his mark on the tape like one of those old-time stamps that would mark wax on an envelope.

  Dale enters the room at the same time the official is walking out. “Fucking A/C system for the building is acting up. They said they are trying to cool it down but no guarantees.”

  Fuck, that’s going to make tonight interesting. It’s not something that hasn’t happened before, but it still sucks.

  Jumping up and down on my toes for half a minute, I try to loosen up the tension in my shoulders.

  I want to fight now. I want to hurt someone. I want to cause severe bodily trauma. I love to fight, and I’m ready to take some pain to cause some.

  * * *

  The crowd has a special air to it tonight as I step into the ring. Rocko is already in there, hopping back and forth. His skin is starting to glisten just like mine, but he looks ready for the battle that’s about to erupt between us.

  I like this moment, the one right before all the violence and blood starts. It’s like the pheromones Christy emits every time I’m near her. It’s so heady, so lustful, but here it’s a lust for carnage. For taking damage to one’s body for the sake of proving you are the best.

  Rocko turns to the crowd and starts lifting his hands in the air as if to help the already yelling mass get louder. Turning to the crowd myself, I throw my hands up in the same gestures.

  He’s reading my mind on this. The crowd out there is hot, and it’s been a long night of battles fought hard. We need them behind us both, we need them to help us make this match the motherfucker of the year.

  Turning back to face Rocko, I grin and he gives me one right back. Oh yeah, he’s wanting to go at it as badly as I am.

  Standing away from each other, we wait the long seconds before the cage ref raises his hand to us both. “Are you ready?”

  Nodding our heads, he says, “Let’s go!”

  Trotting out to the center of the ring, I lift my hand up to tap it against Rocko’s. It’s going to be the only sign of goodwill until the fight is done.

  Taking two steps back, we begin to do the one thing every fight begins with, we start a slow circle. We’re waiting for the true start of the fight. The time when one of us commits and makes the first move.

  I make a feint with a quick leg kick before throwing my weight behind a right-handed punch. The kick makes a thwacking sound and I pull back from his punch before it lands.

  Dodging to my right, I’m not fast enough to avoid a kick of his that lands on my calf.

  Pulling back from him, I circle to my left.

  I want to set the pace from the start. I don’t want him comfortable with just sitting back. I will not leave this shit to the judges.

  It’s gonna be a fight to the submission or knockout.

  Driving into his standing guard, I lunge forward with a hard left hand before my right dives down into his ribs. I connect with the left on his forearm as he blocks it, but my right and much stronger hand connects solidly with his ribs.

  Another left, this time low, then I kick at his leg again.

  Reaching forward, he tries to lunge at me. He wants me to get down on the mat with him, to work it out.

  Fuck that shit, I like standing.

  Sprawling out both of my legs, I stop his takedown. I try to knee his face in this position as I push him towards the mat but I only manage a glancing blow to the cheek.

  Backing up, I’m preparing to dive after him if I need to, but he isn’t going to go too low. Backing up some more, I let him get to a more level stance before I rush in with a flurry of punches.

  I don’t throw all my weight behind the punches. I’m just trying to soften him up. If I went for all haymakers now, I would be wearing myself out way too quickly.

  Each blow connects somewhere, though, and when he clenches in, I see a bright spot of red before he lashes an elbow out of nowhere, hitting me squarely in the cheek.

  My knees start pumping upwards, towards his chest, as I feel myself backed against the chain cage around us.

  That blow rattled me, but it’s good because now I know he plans to fuck me up too. It’s going to be my motivation to make sure I hurt him more than he hurts me.

  I slip my leg between his. Twisting my hips, I toss us both to the ground and try to land my hip on his stomach. I want to snatch his breath away if I can. It will suck for him and give me the advantage.

  Partially succeeding, I land in a side guard where I can start working my feet over to the cage as I keep working fists into his face.

  He’s shocked but not enough.

  He hits my cheeks and eyes with hard blows.

  Pushing my face down into his face, I try to lift up enough to hit him with quick elbows. I connect each time but not fully.

  We slow down our pace then as we try to work for a better position.

  “Stand up!” the ref yells, putting a hand between us.

  Pulling back, I glance quickly at the clock. We have a minute left of round one.

  “What the hell?”

  “You guys weren’t working it. On your feet.”

  “Bullshit.” I mutter but make sure it’s only to myself. I don’t need to get docked a point.

  We are pushed back to our corners before the ref looks at us both and says, “Let’s go!”

  Rocko shakes his head, he must have had the same thoughts I did.

  We start a fast circle before I run in for a flying kick aimed at his ribs.

  I get blocked but Rocko winces in pain. He may have had an arm between my foot and his ribs, but it still hurt him.

  Unleashing a roar of frustration, I find myself chasing after him, trying to get him to engage. He’s dodging me a lot, though that kick has him winded.

  I hear the loud chopping block that signifies fifteen seconds when I finally get him against the cage.

  We both start throwing haymakers at each other.

  His hands are like lead bricks as they slam into my face and ribs, but I don’t stop throwing my hands as hard as I can.

  We are really thumping each other when the bell rings.

  The ref has to step between us because we don’t have the mind to do it ourselves.

  Walking to my side of the ring, I come out of the battle fog I enter when I fight.

  Dale is smiling ear to ear as he pushes me down into my seat.

  Reaching up, I lace my fingers into the cage wall to help my lungs pull in more oxygen.

  Panting, I say, “That was fun.”

  “Fuck me, if it didn’t look like it in the end…” Dale grumbles. “You gonna let him hit you that much the whole time?”

  “I don’t think so, but at the end I kind of went into one of those rages.”

  “Fucking animal, think dammit!” Dale yells at me.

  Nodding my head, I take a drink of water before spitting it out into a bucket. There’s a good tinge of red in the spit. Blood. Yep, tonight’s going to be fun.

  There’s a small cut on my cheek that Dale has the cutman look at before putting goop on it to help stop the bleeding.

  I don’t get much of a rest though as I am told to stand and to get back to it.

  The second we get close enough to each other, I start to see red. My eyes get a hazy feeling as the crowd’s sound fades a bit.

  There is a roar out there, but
I’m not sure if it’s me or the crowd.

  My fists go flying as I try to push him back up against the cage. I pull back only far enough for solid leg kicks before punching again.

  It’s not one-sided though. I’m forced to back up from his heavy onslaught of punches and elbows.

  My nose gets busted up at some point. I can feel the blood flowing pretty freely from my nostrils when I have to once again sprawl out of a take down attempt.

  Pushing him away, I notice there’s blood splattered all over his back. Yeah, that’s probably mine.

  We’re near the end of the round and we’re both a bit wobbly, trying to keep a tight clench against the wall. We’re working only enough to please the ref.

  I know I’m waiting for the bell so I can get a lung full of uninterrupted air.

  “Argh!” I bellow out as we are pulled away from each other.

  It’s been a hard round, but nothing like the end of the first of the first round. We’re busted up though, and I dribble blood down my chest as I sit down.

  “Fuck me running, Alex. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!? Just fucking finish his damn ass!”

  Nodding my head, I intend to do just that. This is a championship bout, we’ve got five rounds to figure this shit out before a judge tells us who wins.

  I want him down in the next one.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Christy

  Sitting in the stands with Chase and Avery, watching the fight, has been a surreal experience.

  I’ve seen plenty of fights before this, both in person and on TV, but I’ve never personally known one of the contenders in the cage.

  I’ve never been emotionally invested like this before.

  That’s my guy up there in the cage looking every inch like a blood thirsty beast. That’s my guy the crowd is cheering and going crazy for.

  And I barely recognize him.

  With sweat dripping down his body, blood on his fists, and a snarl on his mouth, he fights like an enraged animal.

  Somewhere he’s shed the impeccable self-control I’ve come to know.

  The crowd stands up, roaring and going fucking crazy as the punches started flying, and my heart jumps into my throat as the blood starts flowing. I can’t decide if I want to cheer or scream. Honestly, a part of me wants to jump in the cage and help fuck up Rocko.

  The bell rings, signaling the end of the round, and the crowd settles down. To my right, on the other side of Avery, I can hear Chase chuckling.

  I shoot him a look and he just grins at me then his eyes look pointedly down. I follow his line of sight and look down. My fists are clenched so tight my knuckles are turning white.

  I flex my fingers and let out a breath, trying to calm myself down.

  Avery gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It’s been a couple of years but I remember how hard it was to watch Chase in the cage.”

  “Did you want to jump in the cage and fight too?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, her eyes laughing at me. “No…”

  I slump back in my seat, feeling incredibly silly.

  Avery leans close and whispers quietly to me. “I didn’t want to jump in the cage to fight, I wanted to jump his bones.”

  I laugh and shake my head at her.

  She grins mischievously and shoots Chase a sly look.

  He frowns at us both.

  Her voice soft, she leans close to me again and whispers, “Just wait until after the fight when he wins, that’s when the real fun starts.”

  Giving me a wink, Chase pulls her towards him and asks, “What are you two whispering about?”

  I can’t hear what she tells him because the crowd roars as the guys stand up from their corners.

  Watching Alex stomp to the middle of the cage, covered in sweat and blood, something about it just gets my blood pumping.

  He looks so damn vicious, so damn primal.

  Avery’s words remind me of how close we were to going at it in the locker room. Will he be like that when the fight is over? Will he really be up to taking me?

  Alex let’s out a blood curdling roar and my core clenches in response, but then the ref’s arm drops and the punches start flying. The sheer brutality of the second round, and each punch Alex takes to the face, quickly kills what lust was building up inside me.

  Above the crowd I can hear Chase cursing and roaring beside Avery.

  The carnage is so shocking that I suddenly remember that only a couple of weeks from now I’ll be in a cage. I’ll be expected to fight like that… but I’ve never taken a true punch to the face.

  Alex

  What’s it like to take a punch to the face? What’s it like to fight someone and not have it end quickly? What’s it like to have to stop and then go back out into the ring for more pain and violence?

  I don’t really know the answer to all those questions because when the ref tells me to fight I stop being Alex. I stop being one of those men in control of his aggression. I become the Beast.

  That’s what they call me, the Beast. They call me the Beast because I act like one. I no longer show my human side. Most of my humanity is gone, and all that is left is the raw monster that finally has the chains taken off of him.

  When I stand up from the stool for the second time, I can feel the little jolts of adrenaline surging through my veins. My muscles start to twitch, little jumps to make sure they are ready to go. My lungs are panting heavily, and the blood they tried to keep from leaking out of the gash on my cheek is starting to leak again.

  My nose is a little leaky and stuffy, but I don’t think it’s broken just yet. My arms, though, they don’t feel so heavy and the pain that was starting to show up while I sat on the stool is quickly fading.

  It’s time to let the monster come out again. No more holding back. I’m going to break him this round. Break him in fucking half.

  “Guys, you ready?” the ref yells out to us. Looking both ways, he gets the nod.

  “Let’s go!”

  Looking across the cage at Rocko, I give him a tip of my head. He looks as fucked up as I probably do. He has the look in his eyes that tells me he wants to take me out now. He knows for a fact that the last two rounds have been building to this one.

  One of us is not going to make it out of this cage.

  We try to do the circle shuffle routine to start the round, but my legs are getting antsy. They want to kick someone as bad as my hands want to hit.

  Charging in, I go for a hard kick at his head with my left foot. He gets a hand up in time but my foot still slams hard into that hand that’s blocking his head.

  His eyes are glassy as I pull back from him. Not giving him a chance to get his bearings, I charge into him. My fists start flying as hard as they can. Each one connecting to his guarded face, whether on his arms or the sides of his head.

  He’s blocking me, but not pushing back.

  Forcing him to open up with a kick to his ribs, I punch one more time and this final punch connects to that sweet spot, right to the side of his chin.

  Watching him stumble back into the cage wall, I move forward to continue my assault but he’s out like a fucking light.

  Looking to the ref, who is not in the best position to see that Rocko’s eyes are closed, I back away and say, “He’s out, ref!”

  The ref nods as he bends down to the mat to help Rocko recover.

  The bell sounds over the screams of thousands of fans. They are all on their feet now, screaming their heads off.

  My monster inside is pissed. He wanted more fighting, more violence.

  Forcing myself to take deep breaths, I raise my hands over my head in victory. Tonight’s my fucking night. I’ve proven I’m the fucking champion.

  Taking a turn around the cage, I head back over to check on Rocko. He’s awake and following the finger of the ring doctor.

  Waiting until he has a moment, I bend down to him. “That was fucking amazing, brother!”

  Nodding his head, he holds out h
is hand for me to help him up. “Fuck yeah, it was!”

  Pulling him up to his feet, I pull him into a hard hug. “Jesus, man, that was one for the highlight reels!”

  He nods then grabs my wrist. Lifting it high into the air, he is signaling I am the champ.

  Damn, he’s a classy motherfucker, but that’s how it is. We just spilled a lot of blood together, you can’t go through something like that without forming a bond.

  The announcements are quick, and thankfully the post-fight interview is done in a flash. I need to get out of the ring.

  I need to come down from the adrenaline flowing through my body.

  The pain is finally starting to show itself in my ribs and face. I took a fucking smacking around.

  Dale walks back down the aisle with me. We get to the first row and right there is Christy, my girl.

  Motioning to her, I yell, “See you in the dressing room!”

  * * *

  The dressing room is too full of people for me to get any alone time with Christy. She’s close to me the entire time though. The doctor does a quick exam to ensure I don’t have a concussion or anything serious. Thankfully, all I really need is stitches and rest.

  I can do the first, but not the second one anytime soon.

  When we are finally alone in the parking lot, I hand my keys over to her. “You drive, Legs.”

  Grinning at me, she doesn’t even give me a moments pause as she rips the keys out of my hand.

  “Fuck, do you have a driver’s license?” I ask as I plant my ass in the passenger seat.

  Shit, I’ve never sat on this side of the car before—it’s odd feeling.

  Giggling at me, she turns the engine over. “Sure.”

  I swear I’m forced back into the seat as she pulls out, squealing the tires. “Christy, don’t fucking kills us.”

  * * *

  Two hours later we’re pulling into the garage. Fuck, I never get used to having people shoving big ass needles into my face. That might be the reason I don’t have tattoos, needles creep the fuck out of me.