Banging Reaper (Pounding Hearts 1)

We fly out of our corners at the hand chop of the referee.

Both of us unleash a flurry of punches and kicks at each other. I think I land more than him, but at the moment all I can do is block and punch, block and kick.

My ribs fucking hurt and I don't feel like I can get a full fucking lung full of air. It’s fine though because the moment I get a chance, I lunge forward and wrap him up, slamming our bodies into the ground.

I get half of my body up on top of his, but I can't get much of an angle to hit as hard as I want.

I pull back and stand up. Grinning, I motion for him to stand as I back away.

He looks uncertain. Good. I want him uncertain. I want him worried about why the fuck I want to keep going toe to toe with him.

He charges at me and I block before dragging him back to the ground. This is what I do for the rest of the round. I pull him down and hit him until I can't get good shots then I stand. I can hear the crowd as I do this, some are cheering but it sounds like a lot of them are getting tired of the games I have been playing with Ethan.

The bell rings loudly and I back off.

Walking back to my side of the cage, I slide down the chain link cage until I'm sitting down on my stool. Dale squats down in front of me and looks into my eyes, “Are you fucking toying with him?” he asks incredulously.

I guess my smirk is enough of an answer.

He bends down and picks up a rag, looking at the floor as he asks, “How are the ribs?”

“They fucking hurt and they want me to know it,?

?? I growl.

“You think she was telling the truth?”

Nodding, I take a long swig from the water bottle. “Yeah, I am pretty fucking certain. We might need to tell the cops and the commission about this.”

“After the fight?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to punish him?”

I smile and stand up. Was I going to punish him? Fuck yeah.

The ref gestures to us both and ensures we’re ready.

I nod then face Ethan. Giving him a wink, I smile my wide smile and wait for the signal. My ribs are making it painful to breathe, it’s like fire lancing across my chest. I cannot fucking flinch or show it though, if I do I’m fucked.

Ethan flies across the ring at me, his face full of rage. He is all fists and feet as he tries to get inside my guard.

I think I made him mad, I won the first round by my count.

He lands a really hard punch on the bad side of my ribs before he lands one the next moment on my good side. I wince badly and lock him up, trying to drag him to the floor.

I’m pretty sure he sees the wince, but he starts to focus his punches on my good side. Thank the fucking gods of the mat, the fucker thinks I'm hurt on the good side. I slide up his body as his legs reach up, trying to get under my chin.

I have no fucking excuse for allowing him to get his god damn arms around the back of my neck. Fuck. He's trying to get a triangle choke on me and I gasp out as I try to twist out but feel my fucking ribs scream in pain.

It's a stabbing pain, and beyond him trying to sink the hold deeper, I feel like a belt has been tightened around my chest. Each breath I take seems to be shallower than the last.

I feel like I am slowly suffocating.

“Agh!” I yell to the grinning little fuck stick Ethan. I am hurt and I know it, and he is sinking it deeper as I swing my fists ineffectively into his ribs.

My vision is beginning to get a bit hazy around the edges. I start to really pull back and away, but it only enforces that I am stuck like a motherfucker.