Bucking Bear (Pounding Hearts 3)

He is staring right back at me and I can see he is figuring out my shit is finally coming together. He grins right back at me, nodding his head.

Oh yeah, he knows it’s time for fighting.

The ref comes out and motions us to start.

I charge across the ring as Marcellus does the same thing.

We are swinging for the fences as out bodies collide. I hear an audible slap of skin as we hit each other with our chests.

My arms wrap around his torso. Lifting up, I heave him to the side as he collides with the mat.

My arms are trapped beneath his back so I am at a disadvantage, just as he is. Pulling up, I let go of him.

My arms are free so I can scramble off the mat into a standing position. He isn’t as fast as I am so I crowd over the top of him as he lies on his back, his feet up, ready to kick up at me.

I stare at him a moment and say, “Fuck it! Get up man, lets go.”

Stepping back from him, I get a couple of paces away. He stands up from the mat as I get into position. He knows I want to fight, not fuck around.

Roaring to the crowd, I raise my arms up to them. The arena gains a notch in volume as the crowd screams back at me.

Marcellus and I close in together and I throw two jabs and an uppercut. Each lands but doesn’t knock him out.

He swings at me and a shot connects with my nose, then another on my eye.

I feel a warm ooze flow down above my eyebrow. He’s busted me open. That’s good, I like blood with my violence.

Swinging back, I catch him in the nose, hard. His eyes cross for a second, but he is aware enough to lash a kick to my thigh.

Each time we clash together we are throwing fists. My hands are getting harder as the swings go. I can only imagine what I must look like. If it’s anything like Marcellus it’s ugly.

The bell sounds and we are broken apart.

Fuck. We were just getting to the fun stuff.

I haven’t stood up with another fighter like this in a long time. My jaw hurts and I can’t see too clearly out of my right eye.

This is the shit I live for. This is what I want. I can see in Marcellus’ eyes he does too.

“Well, look who showed up for the fight!” Dale says as he works with the enswell across my eyebrow.

The ice cold metal is working to reduce some of the swelling there. I need to see this guy better. The last couple of punches must have really pissed off the tissue because it was swelling up fast.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I mutter.

“Don’t be sorry, be pissed. Win,” he growls at me then steps back.

Standing up, I get ready for round three.

My hands are sore and I can tell my knuckles will be bruised tomorrow from this shit. Fuck, all of me will be bruised. My whole damn body will be black and blue.

Marcellus is looking as rough as I feel. His nose was broken at some point because I can see that busted skin across the top. He isn’t done though; he is smiling as wide as I am.

I can only imagine what the guys in the commentator’s booths are saying. We must look like shit but I still feel fresh.

I walk to the middle of the ring as the round starts and tap gloves with Marcellus. We are into the third round of five. This is going to be a long night.

Pulling back, we bounce around on our feet for a moment then charge at each other.