amirawrah - Tumblr blog

amirawrah · 3 days ago

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Heavyweight.

(Boxer! Wilo x Black oc)

Wc: 11k or so Idk lol.

Warnings: Violence, smut, a little dom/ sub themes (18+).

A/n: Ignore any typos please. This is 11,000 words I’m not combing through all of it. This was originally supposed to be 5k words tops and apart of my erotic series but I couldn’t stop writing and here we are. Hope you enjoy🫶🏾

The distant wail of police sirens join their quiet foot falls against harsh asphalt in the narrow alleyway. There’s a lone street light a few feet ahead of them at the entrance of the walkway that flickers in a way that always makes her squint in annoyance.

“Are they ever gonna fix that damn light?” Elara questions trying to ignore the dark spots assaulting her vision.

“Come on, Elle. Does this look like the kind of place where people call for maintenance?”

And yeah. Kayla is right. In fact, most of the people who frequent this part of the city would prefer darkness. Darkness to conceal the violence and depravity that they indulge in frequently; darkness to act as a cloak from the watchful eyes of the law. Elara can’t believe this is her sixth time strolling through these dimly lit alleys. She likes to blame it on Kayla. Kayla, who she met freshman year in university; she fell asleep beside her in their very first English Composition lecture as soon as their professor introduced herself and didn’t even twitch until the end of class when Elara had to shake her awake. She offered her a lopsided grin full of gratitude and that became their routine for a few weeks. Naturally, Kayla was clueless about the course, so when Mrs. Chambers announced that they had a test coming up, and Kayla asked for help. During that time they met up to study, Elara learned that Kayla was an art major; she didn’t want to stereotype but it was obvious; it showed from the tattoos decorating her caramel skin; it showed in the thick ring that hung from her septum and it showed in the way she’d style her hair in long braids or faux locs in bright colours. She also learned that Kayla was kind, hilarious and a great listener; so when Elara found herself hanging out with the 5 '11 girl with feline-like eyes even after they studied for that test, she wasn’t surprised. They stuck like glue all throughout university and are still best friends even two years after. But Kayla- Kayla loves living on the edge; she craves adventure, she gets bored easily and she’s always seeking out something to give her a rush. Whether it’s getting high in a grunge club, or finding illegal races late at night where she’d find herself in the backseat of one of those cars. Kayla is an adrenaline junkie but never forceful with Elara who is the opposite. She’s content to allow Elara to hide away in the shadows while having fun if she chooses to accompany her at all. Kayla once offered her some of the substances she likes to take every once in a while; but after Elara refused she never offered again. Her latest escape came in the form of a guy named Matteo who she started dating two months ago. Kayla told her the man was a promoter. Elara was surprised to hear that, not only because she’s not used to her friend dating, but because she expected a much more dangerous job. So when Kayla suggested she come to meet him, Elara did not hesitate to agree.

“It’s going to be exhausting partying every weekend, but I’ll join you as often as I can.” She had smiled teasingly while they walked toward their destination.

“Party? Who said anything about partying?”

“Oh. You said he’s a promoter… so I thought you meant like a club or party promoter?”

Kayla guffawed and stared at her with a twinkle in her eyes. “Well… no. He’s a fight promoter. Very underground, very illegal— which reminds me, don’t tell anybody. Not like you know a lot of people but still.”

Elara always said that nothing Kayla did would shock her anymore but she clearly underestimated her friend. “Kayla, what?! How did you… where do you even meet people like this?!”

Kayla rolled her eyes and reached for her arm to drag her along. “He came in to get a tattoo. We started talking and hit it off.” She replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re lucky we’re already out the house because I wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

“It’s going to be fun! It’s a bunch of hot, shirtless men smacking each other around; what’s not to like?”

“I see plenty of blood at work already, I don’t need to see it in my spare time too. Just know I’m not coming back.”

“Oh you will be. You’ll see.” Kayla said with a smirk. Elara didn’t know what she meant but she learned later that night.

And true to Kayla’s words, she has been. The red brick building with a black, metal door finally comes into view. There’s graffiti along the walls of gang names and signs spray painted in a multitude of colours and fonts. Her friend sends her boyfriend a text and a minute later the door is swung open by a tall, muscular dark skin man with locs. He gives Kayla a wide grin that shows off silver grillz in his mouth.

“Hey Dre.” Kayla’s voice is sweet as honey.

“Wassup Joker?”

Elara giggles at the nickname the man gave her because of her love for coloured hair. He gives her a nod in greeting at the sound of her laughter.

“You’re not funny by the way!”

Kayla yells as they step down the hallway. An onslaught of yells immediately reached their ears as soon Dre opened the door. Walking further down the hallway, Elara physically cringes as the volume rises. A swarm of bodies come into view when they emerge from the hallway. The room isn’t small by any means, but it’s packed to capacity with some people being forced to stand along the walls because the seated rows are full. Two fighters go at it in the ring smack dab in the middle of the room. Kayla takes her hand and maneuvers her way through the crowd forcefully while dragging her along. They eventually get to the front row where seats are reserved for them beside Kayla’s boyfriend. Matteo is of Italian descent with a buzzcut and hazel eyes. He’s lithe and just an inch or two shorter than her best friend. Elara grimaces watching the way the two kiss sloppily in greeting, uncaring of the sea of bodies around them.

Kayla pulls away from her boyfriend’s lips to giggle at her frown. “You aren’t used to this yet?”

“You’re both disgusting. Don’t think I didn’t hear you in the bathroom last week.”

Matteo joins Kayla’s laughter and shoots her a teasing wink. Suddenly, there’s a round of loud groans mixed with a smaller subsection of people cheering. Turning her eyes to the ring, she notices the referee holding up the victor’s hand. He’s much scrawnier than his opponent who’s yet to stand to his feet. Makes sense why there are more groans of discontent seeing as the majority would’ve placed money on the bigger guy winning. Elara has been here only a few weeks now and even she has learned that placing bets solely on a fighter’s physique is unwise. She busies herself with playing on her phone as the night progresses with smaller fights with unknown competitors trying to make a name for themselves. Despite being here a few times, she really doesn’t enjoy the violence at all. Even if they try to call it a sport, especially in this environment where the rules are much more relaxed than in legal boxing. She doesn’t keep coming back in hopes of winning money by placing bets and she definitely does not enjoy watching men beat each other bloody. What she does enjoy, is watching a certain man in his element. Her breath hitches when she hears the announcer introducing the main event.

“And now for the main event…”

The crowd immediately breaks out into loud rowdy cheering. Tucking her locked phone in the pocket of her jeans, Elara straightens her spine and leans forward in her seat. The announcer raves on and on about some guy before he introduces him as ‘the bull.’ The man that walks into the ring is 5’11 and weighs 91 kg. She immediately sees why he got that nickname. He’s overly muscular with broad shoulders and flared, wide nostrils. The brown skin man walks around the ring, flexing his muscles and waving his arms to rile up the crowd.

“And now… standing at 6 '2 and weighing 92 kg; give it up for the undefeated, undisputed champion of the underworld. The cool, the calm, the suave… Frenchie!”

Goosebumps rise along her exposed arms at the ripple of cheers that ring around the room. Elara chews on her plump lower lip, keeping her eyes trained on the tall figure that steps into the ring. He removes his hooded robe and bares his face and upper body. Elara clenches her hands into tight little fists at how absolutely breathtaking he is. His body is so perfect; lithe and strong without being overly muscular. His skin is a smooth light caramel shade; eyes dark brown and a little hooded, with pink lips and that devilish neatly trimmed goatee and mustache combo. His black curly hair is kept low with a sharp fade. So gorgeous and the reason Elara keeps coming back. Unlike the other man that showboats with over exaggerated poses and gestures, he calmly secures his gloves and rolls his neck a few times.

“There goes your baby.” Kayla sing-songs teasingly against the shell of her ear.

Elara rolls her eyes, but doesn’t care enough to chastise her friend for her words. Kayla knows exactly what the man does to her, even if they’ve never had a conversation. She has been star struck since the very first time she saw him step in that ring and Kayla knows. He’s such an enigma. Unlike the other fighters who like to make their presence known with angry yells, or posturing about before and after fights (if they win); he never does. His aura is just immediately felt. He steps in calmly, handles his business as he always does, then leaves quietly. Uncaring of the cheers or chants of his name; she wonders if he even does this for the glory of it like the other fighters clearly do. The only thing she knows about him is that he got his nickname because he’s actually French. That’s it. He’s French, he’s hot, he’s a beast in the ring and Elara absolutely wants— no, needs, she absolutely needs him. She needs him so badly that she is excited to slink away in the dark shadows of New York without a care of the possible consequences just to drink in the sight of him for a few minutes when she’s able to. The referee waves his hand commencing the fight. ‘The bull’ is exactly what she expected him to be; all brawn and no brain. There isn’t a strategic move in his attacks but the force of his punches are heavy. The thing about Frenchie is that his lithe body allows him to be quick- quicker than all the opponents she has seen him face. He’s light on his feet and dances around the ring, allowing them to chase and tire themselves out. How has no one else noticed his strategy yet? Elara wonders if boxing comes with lower IQ except in Frenchie’s case, apparently. Or maybe it’s just men and their egos, thinking they’ll finally be the one to outmuscle smarts. Whatever it is, Elara has seen this script multiple times before. He throws a fist that catches Frenchie just above his right eye that makes the man stumble a bit. There’s an uproar from the crowd. Voices making their frustrations against Frenchie heard; ‘throw a punch!’ ‘How did he not duck that?!’

Elara twists a hand in her black crop top when another fist catches him just beside his mouth. She can already see his skin reddening. Frenchie shakes his head before getting into a right stance again. His opponent, feeling cocky from the blows he landed as well as a few people urging him on, charges at him with his movements noticeably a lot more sluggish. Frenchie catches him off guard by ducking quickly and landing a clean uppercut under his chin. He goes down in a heap. A hush falls through the room as the referee begins counting down. The other man struggles to his feet on the sixth second mark.

“Stay down, you idiot.” Elara whispers to herself. The man’s knees buckle but he stands all the same. He tries to physically shake away the impact of the hit, but it’s no use. He stumbles in Frenchie’s direction to throw his fists wildly. Frenchie evades them easily then delivers a blow to his opponent’s stomach that causes him to double over and delivers another uppercut. This time, blood sprays from the man’s mouth and Elara is sure she even sees a tooth come loose. The Bull falls on the ground with a thud. He doesn’t even twitch as they announce a knockout and the referee raises Frenchie’s hand in victory. Elara watches with her heart beating erratically in her chest and a clench in her lower belly as he Frenchie nods once in acknowledgment then exits the ring and disappears down the tunnel.

“You’re drooling, babe.”

Elara slaps Kayla’s hand that wipes at the fake drool at the corner of her glossy lips. Kayla cackles and whispers something to her boyfriend that makes him smirk.

“So you’re a big fan of Frenchie, eh?” Matteo asks with a smirk.

Elara glares at Kayla with all the hatred she can muster.

“What? I’m trying to help.” Kayla shrugs helplessly.

“If you are, don’t tell him I told you this but.” Matteo shuffles closer so his voice doesn’t carry to anyone else closeby. “He does private lessons for some younger men who want to make it pro. I allow him to use this place Mondays and Wednesdays in the evenings, 7-10 pm. Maybe you can accidentally stumble in here one of those days…”

Pretending to be interested in the thinning crowd, she ignores the couple to her right who wears matching suggestive smirks on their faces. As much as she hates to admit it, she’s glad Kayla said something because now she actually has the chance to speak to him. ‘That’s if you don’t chicken out,’ her brain taunts. They stay seated like they usually do while people cram at the small window to collect their money from winning bets and exit the building. Matteo presses a kiss to Kayla’s cheek then heads toward the same tunnel they just carried Frenchie’s opponent down.

“I need to pee.” Elara announces while standing to stretch her limbs. Kayla brings an open palm down against the swell of her ass like she does so often.

“What? Not my fault your ass is fat, I can’t help it.”

Her friend says without remorse ignoring her glare.

“Whatever.”

“Do you need me to come?”

Elara gives a little shake of her head. “It’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Elara rounds the ring and walks down the hallway she’s familiar with. The bathrooms are only allowed to fighters and special visitors, like her and Kayla. Everyone else has to make use of the alleys outside. She eyes the door that she knows Frenchie is behind almost longingly before picking up the pace to enter the small bathroom two doors down. Elara eyes her reflection while she rubs her hands under the cool stream of water. Dark brown, almond eyes stare back. Her black fulani braids are fresh and hang to her waist with a few curly strands framing her oval shaped face nicely. Her brown skin looks moisturized as well as her full, pink lips. She looks good. If only she had the confidence to go with it. Loud pounding against the door startles a little scream from her lips.

“O-one minute!” Her voice is barely above a whisper and sounds breathless even to her own ears. She belatedly realizes that she has been in here awhile and it’s the only bathroom in the building. Making quick work of undoing the lock, Elara swings the door open and almost audibly chokes. The tall man towers over her with a scowl on his bruised face. Bruised, swollen and still so handsome. Frenchie. She’s momentarily rendered breathless, feet frozen at the entrance of the room as she blinks up at him helplessly. The man cocks his brow at her and it jumpstarts her brain that went blank the moment she saw him.

“S-sorry.” Elara squeaks, scrambling to round his deliciously big body in front of her.

“No worry.”

Elara will always remember the very first time she heard the song ‘Losing You’ by Solange. She was so immediately captivated she had to google why; there she learned that music activates the brain’s pleasure and reward centers which releases dopamine. She’s sure the deep baritone of his voice just had the same effect with an added mix of oxytocin. It’s so deep it’s almost rumbled from his chest, and the prominent French accent adds another layer of eroticism to it. Elara is one second away from pleading with tears in her eyes for him to fuck her silly, so she casts her eyes downward and almost runs off down the hallway.

************

Elara knows she should just go home. She can almost hear her cozy little apartment calling to her tired body from across town. She ignores the nagging voice that keeps begging her to go home and maybe invite Kayla over if she’s free to watch a movie with her. Instead, she finds herself staring at the black, metal door that Dre usually guards on Friday nights. It was easy to blend in on the nights she attended with her casual clothes; but standing in the dingy alley in her work scrubs and crocs makes her stick out like a sore thumb. Shifting her feet outside the door, Elara checks the time on her watch. 6:30. She wanted to come earlier than the others to convince him to let her join his classes. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she raises her fist and raps against the door four times. The action hurts her knuckles a bit and she prays it was loud enough for him to hear. It feels like hours pass until she hears the sound of metal moving around and then the door is cracked open just an inch. His brows furrow in confusion but he keeps his expression neutral.

“Um… hi?” The words leave her lips unsurely. She resists the urge to fidget under his piercing stare.

“Why are you here? No fight today.”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” She tries to ease the tension with an awkward little laugh that falls flat between them.

“Beat around… I don’t understand?” He eyes her like she’s an anomaly.

“Oh. It’s just an expression that means you’re straightforward. Sorry, um… I need to talk to you please?”

“Me?”

She nods rapidly, feeling small by the way he looks down at her. He stares at her scrubs intently before reluctantly stepping back to open the door wider. Elara rushes inside before he thinks to change his mind. Her breathing picks up as they’re enveloped by darkness after he closes the door behind them. She secures her gym bag over her shoulder and silently follows him down the hallway and into the main room with the ring. The place looks so much bigger without hundreds of screaming bodies occupying it. Frenchie pulls up a folding chair that was right next to the boxing ring and opens it to take a seat in front of her. Even seated, without the height advantage, his presence still feels suffocating. She’s so attracted it makes her angry.

“I… um I’m Elara.” She whispers, reaching a hand in his direction. He eyes it for a few seconds before taking her offered hand in his. It’s so calloused and warm, dwarfing her own hand. Their handshake only lasts for two seconds before he drops her hand.

“Um… should I call you Frenchie?”

“Why are you here?” There’s an edge of impatience in his voice.

“I… Matteo said you offer lessons…” She trails off seeing him shake his head in quiet disbelief.

He scrubs a hand harshly down his face before responding. “I offer lesson for boxers. Have you ever spent any time in the ring?”

She shakes her head as embarrassment burns her skin.

“Show me your stance right now.”

Elara wants the ground to open up and swallow her. She contemplates then ultimately decides against it not wanting to humiliate herself further. Instead, she shrugs, looking down at her crocs bashfully.

“So you here to waste my time?”

Elara snaps her head up to glare at him. “You don’t have to be rude! I’d be paying for your time like the others and… look, I work late shifts sometimes at the hospital, okay? I usually have to call taxis to take me home and though there hasn’t been a major incident, some of the drivers are dickheads who make me feel unsafe. I want to learn how to defend myself just in case I’ll need it.” And it’s the truth. Yes, she was interested mostly because he’s the one in charge of the lessons, but Elara wants to know how to fight back just in case she’ll ever need to.

The man sighs, a look of regret heavy on his face. “Look… sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.” He stands again, towering over her and it makes her belly flutter. “If you serious, I can’t take you on days with the others who are more…”

“Advanced?” She softly supplies watching him struggle to find the word.

“Yes. Advanced, thank you. I give you lessons on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 6:30- 7:30.”

“Um… my shift changes monthly so I won’t be able to work with that time consistently.” She tries not to let her nerves manifest by wringing her hands in front of him.

“We discuss tomorrow.” He says softly.

“Okay. How much per session?”

He pins her with his gaze. His brown eyes are pretty and half mast.

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She looks up at him shyly. “You should probably have that looked at.” She gestures to the cut above his eyes. It’s discolored and swollen.

“It’s fine.”

Elara nods, chewing at her lower lip feeling flustered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nods at her timid whisper.

“And… you can call me William when we alone.”

Elara forces herself to keep her expression neutral. She nods at him in acknowledgment moving to exit the building. It’s not until she’s out the winding alleys and onto the busy street again that she starts grinning like a maniac.

*********

William is seated in the middle of the boxing ring waiting for her. Elara enters the room in her two piece black workout set consisting of a sports bra and black spandex shorts. Her hair is secured in a bun on top of her head. He’s in a simple grey muscle shirt and black basketball shorts. Standing at her approach, he walks over to hold the ropes open for her to easily duck into the ring.

“Shoes off.” He demands gruffly.

“Oh!” Elara hurries to pull off her sneakers and socks. The floor of the ring feels springy beneath the soles of her feet.

“It’s a lot softer than I expected.”

“The impact would kill us if it was hard.” He doesn’t sound patronizing but she still feels embarrassed.

“Makes sense, obviously.” Elara stares at her wiggling baby blue painted toes in shame.

“First thing: stance. If you don’t stand firm you get knocked down easy and your punches will be weaker. Show me your stance.”

Elara tries to physically shake the shyness from her body and plants her feet. She did a little research after he mentioned stance last night. Shifting her feet shoulder width apart, she points her right leg outward and balls her hands into fists.

“Raise your arms a bit.”

She hurries to raise her fists higher. Her breaths stick to her lungs as he walks around her frame to inspect her.

“Bend your knees a little. Good. Angle your left foot outward.”

Elara follows all his instructions as best as she’s able to. She’s tense and focused as he continues his inspection.

“Non. Don’t arch.”

Her brain turns to mush at the feel of his big, rough hands on her waist. He pushes at her lower back, forcing it forward.

“Brace your core.” The rumble of his voice kisses the shell of her ear causing her to shiver. His scent of fabric softener and bergamot tickle her nose and Elara realizes this is going to be a lot harder than she previously thought.

“Good.”

He steps away from her body and she immediately misses his warmth. William returns to stand in front of her with focus mitts on both hands. Holding both his covered palms in her direction, he speaks.

“Fold your thumb over your fingers and punch.” He demands.

Elara untucks her thumbs from beneath her fingers to do as he commanded. Squeezing her fist until her hands physically shake with the effort, she throws her right hand at the mitt on his hand. The impact reverberates up her arm but his hand barely shifts.

He chuckles at her embarrassed expression.

“You stand like that for a reason, yes? Shift your weight from your feet and hips. Go again.”

Elara takes a deep breath, then shifts her weight— using all the momentum from her movement to drive her fist forward. The impact catches him off guard and his hand is pushed all the way back.

William gives a pleased hum. “Good girl.”

It’s said innocently but Elara wants to scream. It’s not just the words but also how they sound coming from his mouth. His voice is unlike anything she has ever heard before. It’s almost indescribable what it does to her.

“Keep going.”

By the time they’re done her arm muscles are burning. He made her punch until her arms gave out, then he taught her some basic combos. Elara collapsed when he announced the session was up and she hasn’t moved since. He sits just a few feet away busy on his phone. And even though she has been trying to resist for the past ten minutes, she can’t ignore the curiosity nipping at her any longer.

“How did you end up here?”

“What do you mean?” He side eyes her with his phone in hand.

Elara gulps. “In this… sport. In this country… in this place.” She gestures at the empty space.

“I always wanted to be a professional boxer and I was for short time. Something happened that messed up my career in France last year so I left. Matteo recognized me in the city and told me about this so I’m here.”

Elara is momentarily stunned that he actually responded. His answer is a bit vague but a lot more than she expected.

“I’m sorry that your career got ruined.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t know me.” He frowns at her in confusion. It’s almost as if he doesn’t understand the concept of empathy.

“I don’t know much. But it’s obvious you love boxing. It must have been hard having that ripped from you, especially seeing that you’re so good at it.” She says softly.

“I trusted the wrong people and I paid for it.” He says with a shrug. She so desperately wants to inquire further but holds her tongue. Elara quietly reaches for her gym bag just outside the ring to haul it onto her lap. Unzipping it, she removes the extra supplies she carried along with her. She hesitates for a moment before slowly standing to approach him. William looks up at her from his seated position and cocks his brow at the supplies she has in hand.

“It looks bad, okay? It looks like you even picked at the scab; let me just clean it a little.”

He hesitates for a few seconds before nodding. Elara quickly sanitizes her hands then uncaps the little container she has containing cotton swabs soaked with saline solution. Holding her breath, she bends her body to gently dab at the wound above his brow. William keeps his eyes trained on her face and it makes her want to tremble. When she’s satisfied, she squeezes a pea sized amount of antibiotic ointment on her finger to gingerly apply to the cut that looks even worse up close.

“See? This really needed attention, William. You were so close to needing stitches.” She breathes the words into the centimeters of space between their faces.

“Good thing you’re here, no?”

“Uh-huh.” Her body feels tighter than a bow string. The tension is too thick. Elara keeps her eyes trained on his wound and away from his eyes or worse, his lips. She finishes by applying a clear band aid to his face.

“All done.” She straightens after her announcement and he blinks up at her as if he’s in a daze.

“Merci.” He says gruffly.

She clears her throat loudly. “No problem. So um… how much for the session?”

“Thursday.” He dismisses again.

“Oh… um��I’ll be going then. See you Thursday?”

He nods. “See you Thursday, Elara.”

And Elara likes the sound of her name on his lips. She wants to hear it over and over again like a broken record.

That night, after she’s freshly showered with her belly full of food. She googles him on a whim. She half expected not to find anything but gasps when multiple articles pop up. He wasn’t lying, he was actually making a name for himself in the sport. She clicks on the first article to read.

“Rising superstar, William ‘Wilo’ Saliba has been slapped with a permanent ban by the World Boxing Association (WBA) after a major doping scandal. The athlete was found to have significant amounts of steroids in his blood from a routine test conducted…”

Elara reads with her heart in her throat. There are few videos of paparazzi trying to get him to answer questions while being escorted out of court in which he shows genuine confusion as to how those tests came up positive. She suddenly remembers the conversation they had earlier; ‘I trusted the wrong people and I paid for it.’ She’s not sure what really happened, but whatever the case, her heart breaks for him.

*********

“Heading over for another lesson with your boo?” Kayla’s voice is teasing over the phone.

“Ugh, stop. It’s almost like he’s immune to the tension. Or maybe I’m the one imagining it because I want him so badly.” Elara sighs as she ambles down the familiar pathway. It’s about to be their fourth session already and she’s so close to losing her mind. They spent the last couple of sessions working on the same things: stance, punches and basic combos. The extra work in the week has been leaving her so exhausted that she had missed the fight last Friday. Not only that, but with her attraction now multiplied due to their proximity, Elara thought it best to not watch him calmly display his strength and suave in the ring because she’s so close to letting her control slip away.

“Matteo said he’s just.. aloof. He might want you just as badly, you never know.”

She sighs heavily. “Yeah, well if that’s the case he’s really good at hiding it. Anyway, I’m here. Talk later.”

“Have fun.” Kayla sing-songs before hanging up.

Elara is looking forward to having Friday through Sunday off because she’s due for a shift change. She’s going to spend the entire weekend catching up on sleep. ‘And watching a certain man in the ring.’ She shakes that thought from her brain and raises a fist to pound against the metal door.

She makes quick work of getting changed and climbing into the ring.

“Today, I want to try something different. But let’s warm up first.”

Elara is curious all throughout the rounds of stretching, jumping jacks and short planks. When he deems her warmed up enough he speaks again.

“Come here.”

She closes the distance between them with her heart racing in her chest.

“Turn around.”

She obeys and gives him her back. Her skin is tight with anticipation.

“I’m going to hug you. I want you to try and break free, okay?”

Elara’s mouth is suddenly so dry that she can only nod. His arms lock firmly around her midsection and the punch of arousal is almost immediate. She blames it on it being ovulation week, but she knows it’s mostly due to the fact that it’s him. She feels every hard ridge of his muscles against her back and his biceps bulge in her view. This is too much. She might actually combust.

“How would you escape?” His breath tickles her ear.

“I— I don’t know.” Her words sound suspiciously close to a whimper.

“Try.” He encourages.

Elara takes a second to gather her bearings then tries to wiggle in his hold. She barely budges with his ironclad grip on her.

“Most men are going to be stronger than you. Don’t use strength, use smarts.”

She considers his words for a second before turning her head to sink her teeth into his upper bicep. He grunts and she uses the moment of surprise to knock him off balance with her body. It sends them both to the floor in a heap where she attempts to roll off him; but he recovers quickly and tightens his grip again. Rolling them around, William keeps most of his weight off her body that’s now beneath him.

“Good try but not smartest move, Elara. Because now I have you like this. How are you going to escape this harder position?”

Elara whines but not in distress. No. Being manhandled by him in this position is enough to make the heat between her legs intensify.

He tutts. “Think.”

She can’t help the way she wiggles to her knees and arches into him. He sucks in a sharp breath by her ear. Elara desperately begs her brain to focus on anything else except the pulsing between her thighs, but it’s futile. The air between them is so thick it’s suffocating; Elara pushes back further into him. The gasp comes tumbling from her mouth before she has the slightest chance to stop it. He’s hard. And big. The bulge in his basketball shorts presses against the curve of her ass and it feels so perfect she has to sink her teeth into the flesh of her forearm to muffle her soft moan.

“Wilo… I don’t know.”

He stiffens above her. “Where did you hear that name?” He asks calmly.

“I… I googled you. Sorry for being nosy.” She mutters sheepishly.

“Hmmm. You’re very curious.”

She shrugs helplessly in lieu of responding because she doesn’t know what to say. He slowly breaks his hold on her and backs away almost reluctantly.

“I’m sorry.” She resists the urge to beg him to hold her again.

“You apologize for reading public information?” He chuckles lowly. “Come. Stand again.”

Elara ignores the way her legs tremble as she gets to her feet. Her body is so high on arousal that a harsh enough gust of wind on the right place would make her fall apart. Pathetic. Keeping her eyes trained above his waist, she obediently stands and awaits instructions.

“Turn around.” He envelopes her in a bear hug again. “Focus, Elara.”

She knows exactly why he says it. He’s still hard. Everywhere. With a gulp, she nods slowly.

“First thing. Check grip. If it’s too tight for you to move your hands, then try to put them off balance. Try to jump and squat quick. Then stomp on their foot or hit them where it hurts.” He says suggestively. “That will be enough to weaken their grip, then you keep attacking while they’re hurt or run if you think that’s safer, okay?”

Elara nods as her brain processes the information.

“Now try. Not the hitting where it hurts please.”

Despite the tension, they both laugh airily.

“Okay.”

She waits for a few seconds to stretch in silence. Then quickly moves in an attempt to catch him off guard. True to his word, her sudden movements causes him to stumble slightly, enough for her to stomp on his foot and throw an elbow to catch his ribs. He grunts and releases her fully.

“That actually hurt. You learn quick.”

“Sorry.” It’s a meek whisper while she watches him rub at where she hit him with her elbow.

“Don’t be. You did good.”

He moves to pick up the red mittens that she’s all too familiar with. Elara wants to pout. She wants more manhandling and heavy breaths against her ear while getting drunk on his scent and imagining all the ways he-

“Come.”

She fucking wants to.

But she moves takes her stance in front of him and starts to throw punches until her muscles burn.

“You still haven’t told me how much the sessions cost by the way.” She adjusts the gym bag on her shoulder as he leads her to the metal door.

“Monday.”

“You keep doing that. One day you’ll tell me I owe you a thousand dollars or something.” She tries to joke but he doesn’t even crack a smile.

“I won’t. Just keep coming. You’re getting better.”

She ducks her head to smile shyly at her crocs. “Thank you.”

William unlocks the door and swings it open slowly. Elara’s brows furrow in confusion when he only cracks it open an inch to stare outside. Just as she opens her mouth, her eyes catch his hand making a gesture behind his back. He wags his index finger side to side. She clamps her mouth shut.

“Frenchie!” An overly excited voice sounds from outside. Elara stays quiet but cocks her ears to listen intently.

“Who are you?”

“Look at him, it’s true what they say about you being a serious guy, huh?” She hears a few chuckles; It sounds like at least six people. She twists her hands nervously. It’s obvious they didn’t come to invite him to dinner or something.

“Look Frenchie, that fight tomorrow night. Your opponent is a friend of mine, a real good friend of mine. A friend trying to make a name for himself, you understand me, Frenchie? And what better way to do that than beating the champion of underground boxing? Are you seeing what I’m trying to say?”

Fuck. Elara’s heart leaps in her throat. She can see the tension rippling through him in waves.

“I’m not sore loser. If he beats me then so be it.”

The man chuckles bitterly. “Don’t try to play me for a fool, Frenchie. Juan is my homie but even I know he can’t beat you. I’m not here to tell you that he’ll beat you, I’m here to tell you that you better lose or we’re going to have a problem.”

“You want me to lose on purpose?”

A hand reaches through the crack in the door to pat his shoulder aggressively.

“You learn quickly Frenchie boy. See you tomorrow.”

There’s a whistle followed by the sound of multiple foot falls against the asphalt outside. William slowly shuts the door and turns to face her and one thing is immediately clear. From the clench of his jaws and the way his hands are balled tightly into fists, she immediately knows he won’t do it.

***********

Elara feels a second away from bursting into tears. The crowd cheers wildly, all unaware of the dilemma the reigning champion in the ring is currently facing. Kayla grips at her sweaty palm, silently offering her support. She told her friend what happened as soon as she got home yesterday. Kayla spoke to her boyfriend but Matteo knows the crowd this Juan person hangs around. If he disqualified him from the fight over this there would still be problems; it would ultimately be up to William to decide. It didn’t take long to figure out that they’re a group of troublemakers. Elara had begged William to drop out of the fight after he received the threats yesterday but he refused.

“Don’t do it. Just forfeit or something.” She pleaded with her eyes.

“Non. If I do I’ll still have to fight him in anyway and if I continue to back out against him I will look a coward. That’s worse than losing in the ring.”

“So you’re going to lose right? Just one fight then you can go back to winning ways. No one will remember.” She tried to sound convincing.

“The opposite, Elara. If I keep winning after losing to him they’ll only want to see rematches between us. I wouldn’t just be losing against him once. And they’ll keep threatening everyone and… non. That’s not fair. That’s not right.”

Elara’s eyes widened like saucers. “Wilo, don’t be stupid. You heard their threats. They’re going to hurt you if you win.”

“What do you expect me to do, Elara? Become their bitch?” His eyes were wild.

“No! Be smart. Forfeit and… and stop this. You have a name for yourself already. Leave this underground, illegal shit and offer public lessons. I’d help with setting up social media accounts and-”

“I have a tarnished name. William the boxer will always be known for doping. My performances before that scandal don’t matter. But here, Frenchie. Frenchie is good and clean and a champion, yea? Here I am respected.” He tried to round her figure in the narrow hallway but she reached out to grip at his wrist.

“Wilo, please. Don’t be stubborn. People still adore you. Just leave this shit behind and protect yourself-”

“They should be gone by now. Go home, Elara. And don’t come tomorrow.” He broke free from her grip easily and walked away. Elara could only huff in frustration and stomp her way out the building.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Kayla yells over the excited crowd.

“I hope he does.”

But her hope was all in vain. The second the whistle sounds, William is on the attack. He is never this aggressive. He’s still quick, he’s still strategic but instead of his usual game of using his opponent’s strength against them, he begins raining blow after blow on Juan. The man doesn’t even get a chance to throw a proper punch before he’s out cold. It took him under thirty seconds and Elara immediately knows this is him proving a point. Anxiety makes her stomach queasy as the building erupts. His eyes scan the crowd while the referee declares him victor; she sees the way his glare pierces a few men just two rows behind them. Then, his eyes find her. A flicker of surprise quickly passes over his features before his gaze turns cold. William ducks out of the ring, uncaring of the crowd chanting his name.

‘Frenchie! Frenchie! Frenchie!’

Elara eyes scan the crowd behind her to see a group of five latino men stand simultaneously. The weight of anxiety is so heavy that she’s momentarily unable to move a muscle. They get sucked into the that crowd moves around her, some going by the small window to collect their money, others moving to exit and a few just lingering. It all feels like she’s witnessing everything from outside her body.

“Hey! Snap out of it!”

Elara swings her eyes in Kayla’s direction to find her friend’s concerned face only a few centimeters away. Kayla knows all too well what an oncoming anxiety attack looks like for her.

“Let’s go find him.”

Nodding dumbly, Elara allows her friend to drag her through the crowd and down the hallway. But her heart plummets when she finds the door ajar and the room empty. He’s gone.

“Okay, maybe he’s just in the bathroom or he left for the night to avoid them.”

But even she can see the doubt swimming in her friend’s wide eyes. Elara marches over to the bathroom and pounds against the door. No response. The door almost bounces off the wall with a loud bang when she flings it open. Empty.

“Come, there’s a back exit they use that’s closer to the public car park in the plaza nearby.”

Kayla grabs her hand and they break into a jog futher down the hallway than Elara has ever been. They make a right turn before coming face to face with an identical black, metal door. It requires both their strength to heave it open. She hears it as soon as they’re in the quiet night air. Groans and muted thuds.

“Fuck! Get him!”

Elara eyes Kayla in panic and they both sprint further down the alley where the voice drifted from. They round the corner just in time to see William throwing a fist out to knock one of them men to the ground. Out cold. There’s one more already lying there unmoving. But no matter how good he is, it’s just him versus five. He brings both hands up to protect his face as they begin raining punches down on him. One backs away from him briefly to reach into his pocket. The moonlight reflects off the silver blade with a sinister glint; before she can stop it, a blood curdling scream tears through her throat and echoes through the alley. It’s enough for the men to pause in surprise. Enough for William to swiftly disarm the man with the blade to deliver an uppercut so nasty she fears he might’ve broken his neck. The man slumps to the ground and the other two back up unsurely.

“Yea! I’ve got it all on camera! I already have the police on the phone too. You better run before they get here!” Kayla points her phone in their direction. They eye Kayla, then their friends on the ground before breaking off into a sprint and disappearing into the dark.

Kayla sucks in greedy inhales. “Fuck, thank heavens they ran. I couldn’t stop shaking to even unlock my fucking phone.”

Elara is too shaken to even laugh. She can only stare as William eyes the blade with a frown on his mouth. It seems the reality of it just catching up to him. He could’ve died. He was seconds away from being brutally stabbed in a dirty alley that reeks of piss. The thought makes her furious. She can physically feel her blood boiling beneath her skin. Elara marches in his direction, the world around her blurs into nothing but loud ringing in her ears and distorted images in her peripheral vision. William looks down at her as she pauses a few feet away from him. Before she can stop herself, Elara reaches up and slaps him. He’s momentarily stunned but she doesn’t give him the chance to recover. She slaps him again. William is quick to grab her hand before she can deliver the third one.

“You stubborn, stupid fucking-”

He drops the knife to catch her other hand that she swings at him.

“Enough.” He says gruffly, pulling her down the alley. Elara is so blinded by rage she doesn’t even think to say something to Kayla who they left gawking at their antics. William leads her up the exit of a parking lot to a black camero. Unlocking the car on his fob, he opens the door to the passenger side.

“Get in.”

“Are you just going to leave the three men you knocked out cold back there?!”

William does a quick scan of the empty parking lot before glaring at her.

“Lower your voice. And I’ll text Matteo. Get in.” He orders again.

She glares at him as an act of defiance even though she gets in the car. He slams the door shut, surrounding her with warmth and his scent. They sit in tense silence until he pulls onto the main road.

“I told you don’t come.”

Elara laughs but it’s without humour. “Yea, you would’ve fucking died if I didn’t. I told you to forfeit or lose! You men and your egos!”

“I told you what would happen if I did that.” His voice is calm but his hands grip the steering until his knuckles are white.

“And what do you think will happen now?! You think they’re just going to let this go?!” She eyes the multitude of bruises marring his face. Elara knows she’s crushing too hard because they only make him more attractive.

“Address.” He demands roughly.

Elara gives him short, clipped directions while she avoids looking at him the entire drive. She doesn’t wait for him to properly park before she flings the car door open and marches across the parking lot of her apartment building. The muted thud of his car door slamming makes her heart leap a little. His long stride eats up the distance between them easily and he’s right behind her by the time she gets to her door.

“You shouldn’t come back. Not to the fights, not for training…” He says as soon as she faces him in her doorway.

“You shouldn’t either.”

“I can’t keep hiding. I need to fi-”

“You’re warning me against that place but you’ll keep going back even though you’re the one they want to kill?!” She yells incredulously. Her voice carries through the hallway and William frowns. He steps inside her living room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“You like to shout.”

She stares at him as if he has an extra set of limbs. “I’m shouting because I’m angry! Do you not realize what almost happened tonight, William?!”

The adrenaline slowly leaving her body makes her all too aware of the exhaustion lingering in her bones. Shaking her head at his confused expression, Elara flings her purse on her nude couch and makes her way into her kitchen. William makes an appearance when she’s taking light sips of the bottled water she retrieved from her fridge.

“Why do you care so much?”

Elara pauses mid drink to fix him with a glare. “You’re asking why I care if you live or die?”

He shrugs. “You don’t know me well.”

She laughs bitterly. “Yeah. You’re right; you’re so fucking right. Fuck me for caring. Actually, go back to that dirty underground ring right now! I hope they’re all there waiting for you.”

Elara attempts to round his figure in the entryway but a hand shoots out to grip her neck. Not with enough force for it to hurt or block her airways, but firm enough to keep her in place. Firm enough for her lower belly to clench and her breath to hitch.

“Why did you want to train with me, Elara? Tell me the truth.”

The anger that was simmering under her skin is now quelled by his little act of dominance.

“I… wanted to learn to defen-”

“Lie to me again.” He says— daring her to.

“What do you want to hear, Wilo? That I’ve been crushing on you? That the only reason I kept coming back to that hell hole was to see you?”

“Is that true?”

The look in his eyes forces her to squeeze her thighs together.

“Yes.” The word falls from her lips breathlessly.

“Thank fuck.”

Elara moans the second his mouth is on hers. She can only describe the kiss as hungry. Raw. They were both starved for each other and they make it known as they devour each other. William slips his tongue into her mouth and treats her tongue like something to savour. He sucks on it gently, then flicks it against every warm, wet crevice it can reach. Elara is a whimpering mess already; the bottle of water clatters to the ground spilling everywhere but she doesn’t care in the slightest. Her nipples strain against her graphic t-shirt and her clit throbs wildly in her panties— the arousal is immediate. It’s almost as if her body recognizes it’s him- the object of her desires finally touching her like this. Or maybe it’s the hormones; whatever it is, Elara is already on edge. His breath has a lingering taste of nicotine; she has never seen him smoke so it catches her by surprise but it heightens her arousal for whatever reason. He flicks his tongue along the roof of her mouth with a groan that makes her knees buckle.

Elara breaks the kiss with a tormented frown on her face. “Wilo, please. I need- fuck I’m wet, please.”

“Yeah?”

Squeezing her throat lightly, he presses her back to his front. He’s already hard. Elara whimpers.

“Please? You’ve had me like this since yesterday.” She sounds so needy but she doesn’t care.

William’s groan shakes his entire chest. He slips his free hand down her front and immediately slips it underneath her mini denim skirt. His fingers slide between her legs, seeking out the hard little nub over her cotton panties. Elara wheezes the second he starts rubbing her clit in tight little circles.

“Thought I was misreading the situation yesterday. Can’t believe you want me like this too.” He says gruffly before dipping to lick into her open mouth again. Elara’s body tingles from head to foot. The slick sounds of him claiming her mouth while he plays with her pussy like owns it is enough to make a nun sin.

“Wilo, don’t stop.” Her moan is muffled against his tongue.

“Won’t.”

Elara covers his hand with her own as he rubs at her faster. The familiar pressure builds rapidly, forcing her to rise to the tip of her toes.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t- Wilo please.”

He presses his thumb and index finger harder against her neck. It doesn’t cut off her air supply completely, just makes it a little harder to breathe.

“Relax and let go for me.” His voice seems to have dropped an octave. It makes her even more lightheaded.

Elara’s moans sound like awkward little wheezes as they pitch higher with his hand around her throat. She presses his hand against her pussy harder, hips grinding greedily onto his skilled fingers.

“Wilo!”

She stiffens from head to foot as the pressure finally releases. The orgasm shakes her entire frame. William releases her throat just as she peaks, the sudden increase in blood flow to her brain intensifies the orgasm tenfold. Elara gives a throaty moan as her knees buckle beneath her. William keeps her from collapsing in a heap on the floor of her kitchen. He keeps his fingers on her nub, drawing out the sensation until she’s speaking gibberish.

“There you go; feels good, hm?”

Elara nods dumbly, hips still undulating against his hand.

Her panting breaths are loud in the quiet of her apartment as her senses slowly return. She steps out of his embrace on shaky legs; turning to face him, Elara quietly strips her body bare. Starting with her shirt, baring her breasts with her nipples brown and erect. Then she shimmies out of her skirt and thong at once. Wilo stands as still as a statue; gaze heavy as he drags his eyes deliberately from her head to her feet.

“I don’t have condom.” His fists clench by his side, his eyes heavy lidded with lust.

Elara wants to punch herself for not having condoms herself. But she has been single for over a year now.

“I… I don’t care.” It’s stupid and reckless; she knows and she should be doing better as a healthcare worker herself, but she loses all rational thoughts when it comes to him.

“And you call me stupid?”

But he lifts his shirt over his head and drags his black sweats down his legs. Her eyes immediately find his legs— so muscular and his veins are prominent. She wants to moan at the obvious bulge in his black boxers.

“You look so strong.”

Elara didn’t mean to say the words out loud but William cocks his brow when she blurts the words out.

“You like that?” He sounds genuinely curious.

And yes she fucking does. She had figured for a while now that she has some sort of a strength kink; Wilo has solidified it. So she offers a shy nod. He stalks in her direction with a predatory look in his eyes. On instinct, her feet shuffle backwards. Her breaths come in short, quick pants as they continue their little game all the way into the living room.

“Running from me, Elara?” His questions, voice thick with need.

The low lighting in her apartment creates an almost sultry atmosphere. She shakes her head in response though her feet keep moving. There’s something about the cat and mouse game that makes her wetter. The back of her legs come in contact with the couch so Elara has no choice except to watch him as he invades her personal space and towers over her. He gestures toward the furniture behind her and Elara doesn’t have to be told twice. She lowers into a seated position before lying down flat on her back, blinking up at him with her skin pulled taut in anticipation. William hooks his thumb beneath the waistband of his underwear and pulls them down his legs. He straightens his body, standing without a hunch in his shoulders. Unashamed. It’s obvious why.

“Jeez, Wilo.” Her whisper is wracked with tremors. Just like the rest of him, his dick is impressive. The length is above average but the girth of it is what steals her breath. Thick with prominent veins under smooth, dark caramel skin. The tip is flushed an angry red. William ignores her words and climbs over body on the couch. His tongue flicks out to dip into her bellybutton; she quivers beneath him with a soft moan. He licks his way up to her chest where he closes his mouth around her right nipple to suck into his mouth. He alternates between rolling it around his tongue and flicking lightly. Elara whimpers, bringing her hands to cradle his head. Her breath gets caught in her lungs when he suddenly reaches between her legs to tease at her entrance with the pad of his fingers. Elara tenses then keens long and low as he eases two fingers inside her. She’s so wet that he glides in easily with an audible squelch.

“Fuck, feels so good.”

He hums and switches to her other breast. Elara moans, feeling the way he twists his fingers inside while he continues his assault on her chest. Releasing her nipple with a little pop, he gauges her reaction to every press of his fingers inside her. He angles his fingers upward and Elara jerks with a little scream.

“There she is.” He mutters the words to himself then slowly pulls his fingers out. Elara watches with quivering breaths as he wraps his hand around his dick to to give himself a few languid strokes that makes his breath hitch. He lowers his body and glides his dick through her folds a few times to get himself wet.

“So fucking pretty, hm? Kiss me.” He whispers against her lips. Elara eagerly meets his mouth in a wet, sloppy exchange of saliva more than anything. He uses the distraction to press the head of his dick against her soaked, warm entrance. She whimpers in tandem with his deep groan as she stretches to accommodate his size. He keeps going until he’s seated all the way inside, Elara jerks from the pleasure dull ache. He goes off in a tandem of French that’s lost on her but he sounds so good that she moans helplessly against his tongue while she clenches around him.

“… you were going to be trouble the second I saw you leaving that bathroom.” he suddenly switches to English mid rant. He builds a slow rhythm with his hips with short little strokes. He feels so good dragging along her walls that she has to squeeze her eyes shut.

“Tu mouilles bien, bébé.” He groans as he slowly pulls out further to sink back deep inside.

“Hah- wanna come, Wilo. Please?”

“Yeah?”

William raises himself to a kneeling position, grasping both her legs, he folds them by her ears. Elara holds her breath for what’s to come. He pulls all the way out then sinks into her in one fluid thrust. All the air leaves her lungs in whoosh as he angles her body just right for him to press against that sweet spot he found with his fingers earlier. His hips are fluid, he doesn’t just hump, he rolls into her with intent.

“What the fuck, Wilo?” She moans as if in anguish. He picks up the pace of his hips, staring deep in her eyes so he can see the way she loses herself in pleasure. Elara feels the familiar pressure building below.

“Look at you, hm? Pretty little thing.”

Elara tenses from head to toe as he keeps plunging into depths that she didn’t know anyone would reach. He whispers a few words in French in that husky voice of his and it's enough to send her over the edge again. She screams through it, legs trembling in his hold. He fucks her through it, eyes zeroing in between her legs where they’re joined.

“So good mffffhhh too good, c-can’t.”

William eyes the way she stretches and drips around him like a man starved.

“Creaming all over me, fuc-”

He suddenly pulls out and hoists her lower body off the couch and in the air. Sucking his thumb into his mouth, he coats it with his spit and presses the wet digit against the puckered rim of her ass while he dives down to lap at her clit.

Elara is delirious with pleasure. She can do nothing but sob and take as her feet dangle uselessly in the air. Her neck is twisted at an almost awkward angle, but nothing matters except the havoc the man between her legs is wreaking on her overstimulated body. His thumb slips into uncharted territory while he closes his mouth around her nub that’s still throbbing to suckle on it. Elara can’t even breathe. She had no idea she’d like the pressure of being penetrated around back this much, but William clearly knows her own body better than she does. He pulls back to stare at her pussy as it clenches around nothing; groaning from the pit of his belly, he spits before diving right back to lap it all up.

“Wilo, I c-can’- too much.”

He laps at her once more then lowers her body on the couch again. Elara has no time to catch her breath— she’s spun onto her front and forced to lay flat on her belly. William spreads her legs and slips himself inside again in a flash.

He tutts at her sob. “You can take it, hm? This is what you wanted.”

Williams settles both hands by her waist and sets a punishing pace with his hips. And as Elara lies there and takes it with tears streaming down her cheeks, she wonders if this is some form of punishment. She wracks her scattered brain for anything she did that could’ve possibly offended him. Was it the way she yelled at him? Was it because of the stunts she pulled yesterday that left him hard and unsatisfied? Is he taking the frustration of the night out on her? Whatever it is, he’s fucking her like it’s his last day on earth. She scrambles onto her hands and knees, trying to shuffle away from him.

He tuts at her antics. “Non.”

William reaches to wrap one hand around her neck and the other around her waist. He has her in a headlock, not with enough strength to stop her breathing or cause pain; just enough to keep her in place as he starts fucking into her again. The sick part of her brain that loves being manhandled makes her tremble.

“Wilo, wha- why are you fucking me like this?” She sobs, tears leaking from her shut eyes.

Any other time, she’d cringe at those words but she’s so overwhelmed.

“Love seeing you feel good. Love the pretty sounds you make. Want to ruin you.”

He presses the words onto the shell of her ear while he keeps driving his hips into her. He flicks his tongue on the shell of her ear. The position allows his dick to nudge against her g-spot on every thrust of his hips. Elara grits her teeth helplessly as another orgasm tears through her violently. There was no slow build up— her body too overstimulated for it. The line between pain and pleasure blurs into whatever this sensation that’s wrecking her body is. William groans by her ear as she clenches and cries.

“Fuck, so good bébé. Want to stay inside forever.”

He goes off in a lengthy ramble in French again. Then he’s moaning from the pit of his belly while he fucks into her almost erratically.

“Putain, Elara. Fuck, fuck fuc-”

He crushes her into his body as he shakes and groans. The orgasm rushes through him so deliciously he has to clench his teeth to stop himself from crying out. She feels her inside growing warmer as he fills her up. Thick spurt after spurt coats her insides while he calls her a good girl.

“Took it well, so proud of you. Made me feel so good.” His breath stutters between every word.

Elara grips at the back of his neck as she sobs noisily.

“Wil- I… I’m lightheaded.” She whimpers through tears. He slowly pulls out of her body and allows her to collapse against the couch to catch her breath. He gently lifts her body to roll her over. He spreads her legs to watch his sticky, white release pool at her entrance.

“Pretty little mess, hm?”

Elara whines when his fingers slip inside her again, pushing his come back in her body. She drips around his fingers, belly quivering.

“I can’t get enough of you. Love seeing you feel good.”

Elara blinks up at him and whines pathetically. She tries to close her legs but he holds them open with his unoccupied hand.

“Can you give me one more? Just one.”

Elara throws an arm over her face and keeps her legs spread. She jerks, a scream catching in her throat when he brings his other hand to circle her swollen clit. Every nerve ending in her body feels rubbed raw but she stays pliant while he plays with her pussy.

“Fuck, so pretty. Next time I eat you for hours.”

Elara keens as his fingers flick faster. It only takes a few seconds of him pressing against that spot inside while he rubs her clit for her to be sent hurtling off the edge again. This one is feels like rubbing at an open wound- raw, too much pleasure for her body to properly handle. She can’t even make a sound; she can only reach out to grip at his wrists while shaking her head. She has reached her limit.

William drags his eyes all over her sweaty, spent form. Even with tears on her face, she’s still so beautiful. He drinks in the sight like he’ll never see her again. A wave of emotion suddenly takes a hold of her body. Fresh tears spring to her eyes and a sob gets caught in her throat. Elara is just so overwhelmed and her brain doesn’t know how else to deal with it, so she cries. It takes her by surprise because she has never experienced anything like it.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

William hauls her onto his lap and presses her face into his neck. He rubs a soothing hand up and down her back.

“I- I don’t know why? I’m sorry.”

“No apologies. It was a lot, I know baby.”

William holds her while whispering sweet nothings in her ear until her brain is less cloudy and she can properly make sense of her emotions. She pulls away from his neck to stare down at him in reverence. Elara just had the best sex of her life and she’s sure no one else is going to ever compare.

“How do you feel?” His eyes are tender as he wipes the tears off her face.

Elara dips her head to kiss him softly. He sighs into it, all too happy to return her affection. This kiss is unhurried and sweet. Just two very satisfied people sharing some warmth. Pulling away from his mouth, she eyes his bruises with a frown on her face.

“You shouldn’t go back there.”

He sighs heavily. “Elara-”

Cupping his face in her hands, she speaks; “Look, I don’t know the details surrounding whatever happened with that doping incident. But I searched your name on social media and Wilo, people still love you. They still talk about you and how much they miss seeing you in action. I don’t know if you’ll ever go pro again but you have fans. A lot of fans. Just… try the public classes. I’ll help as best as I’m able to. If it fails then you can go back to being Frenchie and I’ll try to not worry sick over you.”

He stares into her pleading eyes and his mouth slowly stretches in a teasing smirk. “I fucked you too good and now you like me, huh?”

With a roll of her eyes, she slaps at his sweaty chest.

“I’m being serious, Wilo. Please.”

He brings a thumb to press against her plump, lower lip. “Okay.”

Elara almost slumps in relief. “Good. It will work out, you’ll see. Now come, I need to re-patch that cut above your eye and look at some of these bruises.”

“You’re always trying to fix me up.” He says softly.

“Well, my name means healer after all.” She shrugs.

“It fit.”

“Yup. Also, when you start your lessons I’m joining again. And my sessions are still going to be free, right?” She grins at him.

William’s deep bellied laugh echoes around her quiet apartment. He leans forward to press a kiss on her unsuspecting lips.

“Always.”

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