Lustful Game

Please see Chapter 00 for all disclaimers, warnings, notes, etc.

Pairing: Bryan Fury/Steve Fox

Summary: Bryan Fury and Steve Fox are two men who share very little, if anything in common. Despite this, however, they are set up as roommates when they arrive for the latest King of Iron Fist Tournament. Steve plans to spend the tournament as far away from his cybernetic roommate as possible, but after Bryan receives some mysterious ‘upgrades’ from a nameless benefactor, he finds that the older man has taken an unhealthy interest in him. An interest, he discovers, that does not stem from a desire to fight, but an even more primal instinct.

Special Thanks: To Kat and Mchan who are my two favourite betas in the whole world. You two are always so kind to read over anything I throw your way (and I mean anything).

Notes: Hmm, can’t say I’ve seen much of this pairing around, and yet these two characters are Mchan’s favourites to talk about. Again, the mysterious man sets Bryan and Steve up for some porn fun. The voyeuristic little pervert sure does like watching the fighters get it on, eh?
I hate keeping stuff like his identity secret, but… in this case I can’t help it. He’ll reveal himself at the end, and several people have guessed who it is already. Starts with an L and ends with an E.

+++

Primal Drive (How to uncussfully run away from a cyborg)

Bryan Fury arrived to the King of Iron Fist tournament late in the evening. His cybernetic body was stiff from the long flight and he’d barely registered any surprise when he arrived at the hotel and was informed that he could stay there for free. It seemed that someone high up in the tournament organization had arranged for all the fighters to have nice rooms at the official hotel. It did seem a bit strange to him that he had to share a room, but then again, so-long as his roommate didn’t talk to him, what did he care?

So it came that the cybernetic American was in his room and, wanting for something constructive to do, was deeply engrossed in training. The room wasn’t large enough for such activities to begin with, but pushing the beds to one side made more than enough room for the burly man to practice his kicks, punches, and maniacal laughing. The latter, of course, was the most important. An opponent would be thrown off if they believed he was insane, and it was the laugh that solidified that fact in their minds. Only the truly strong could withstand the urge to run away.

It also helped that he really was a bit crazy. Not much, but being power-hungry enough to have most of your body altered with cybernetics and alternative power-sources would need one to be a bit off their rocker.

Bryan was still training when the door to their room opened and his roommate stood in the frame, peering into the darkness. He didn’t stop his training, and let loose a particularly effective laugh as the newcomer took two steps into the room. The American turned his blue eyes to take in the sight, and just as quickly turned away. A blonde, British boxer named Steve Fox regarded him from the entrance of the room. Bryan had fought against him in a previous tournament and knew he was not someone to mess with… not that Bryan would refrain from picking a fight or two with the boxer before the tournament regardless.

The blonde stood there for a few minutes, although Bryan didn’t bother to look to see what the other man was doing. He had to get all his systems and circuits into top shape before he really took anybody on in a fight.

“Y-you’re…” Steve started, hand hanging in the air as it pointed towards Bryan.

The cyborg stopped his training once he realized that no more words were coming and he’d have to encourage conversation. He grumbled unhappily at the idea. “I’m what?” he turned to face the boxer, putting his hands on his hips to show he would be impatient about the entire encounter.

“You’re naked!” Steve snapped out of his shock and turned his head away while squeezing his eyes as tightly shut as he could. “Why the bugger are you training naked?”

“Clothes get in my way,” Bryan sniffed. “You wanna fight?”

The older man took a step forward, assuming a proper fighting stance. Steve dropped his bag and put up his fists, “God, no!” he yelled, trying desperately to stare Bryan in the eyes. The American chuckled when he saw the Brit’s gaze trailing across his scarred, muscular body. “That is,” the younger man continued, “I’m tired from my flight… I-I’m going to the pub.” He quickly spun on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving the older man alone to continue his exercises. Bryan let out a hearty laugh to trail after Steve down the hallway, a sound that would, with any luck, plant itself into the root of the boxer’s subconscious and come out during their match at the tournament the following day.

He began training again, lunging and squat-thrusting and doing whatever he could in the spacious room before he was again interrupted, this time by the offensive ringing of the telephone. He glared at the device, never slowing his exercises and waited for it to stop ringing. Whoever it was would eventually get tired and hang up. Bryan Fury had an iron will when it came to endurance, and this was not one battle that he’d give up easily. He pushed his exhausted muscles to their limits, his breath increasing while his circuits began to feel warm from over-use and still the phone rang. Each ring of the bell sent a tick to the side of Bryan’s eye, irritating him and making him lose count of his push-ups. He looked up at the device for a moment, glaring daggers before cursing and finally reaching for it, gripping the receiver until the plastic threatened to crack as he put it to his ear. He vowed angrily into the mouthpiece that if it was someone from the hotel calling to ask him if he wanted pancakes in the morning someone was going to die. The voice on the other end was patiently quiet until the American had exhausted his vocabulary of threats and calmly asked if the cyborg was interested in receiving some free upgrades to his system. The lightly accented voice was breezy, calm, and definitely in control, offering up something that it knew the American couldn’t turn away from.

That offer shut Bryan right up and he grumbled, drumming his fingers along the table while suspiciously trying to think of anybody who the voice might belong to. Who knew he’d be at the tournament? Dr. Abel, the man who’d originally implanted his body with cybernetics, was probably dead by then, and the only other doctor who’d helped him, Dr. Boskonovitch probably wouldn’t care either way if he needed upgrades. The man on the phone sounded younger than either of the old and feeble doctors. It conveyed strength and it bothered Bryan to have no idea who it was. After a moment of deliberation, nearly telling the man on the phone to go fuck himself, he agreed to the offer. He’d decided that if it was for real, then he couldn’t afford to pass it up. Upgrades for his system were hard to come by, if not impossible to find. He comforted his suspicions by promising that if it was a trap, he’d simply kill whoever was responsible.

The voice made a sound of approval before giving Bryan instructions to go to the hotel lounge and wait for a contact to find him. Before the American could say another word, the line went dead.

+++

A few heads turned as Bryan Fury walked into the hotel lounge, some with undisguised lust, while others with passing interest. He wasn’t the type of man you’d see every day. Tall, muscular, imposing, pale, all the things that drew your eye to a person, making you look them over for a second longer before looking away. He stood in the entrance, his frame blocking the way as he scanned the room for someone who might be expecting him. Aside from a few inviting smiles from some of the lonely women and men in the bar, he didn’t see anyone who might have what he was looking for. He strode over to an empty table and sat down, deciding to make himself visible to everyone there while he waited and was immediately met by a waitress who brought over a drink from a young woman at the bar. Bryan took the drink and tossed it back; gulping the liquid down and slamming the glass back down on the table without even looking at the brunette who’d bought it for him. A few other drinks arrived and were treated in the same way, which seemed to encourage some people who perhaps thought that Bryan was the perfect challenge.

Bryan arched a thin, white brow as the chair opposite him was pulled out and a thin man in a black suit sat opposite him. The stranger’s eyes were framed by thin-rimmed glasses, brown eyes wide and smiling, almost gleeful. They were getting bolder, it seemed. And this one thought he’d get somewhere with him.

The man placed a glass on the table and pushed it towards Bryan. “Not interested,” the fighter said, grabbing the glass and turning away from the man. Body language always helped to tell people to fuck off as efficiently as words.

“Oh?” the man in black asked, “I’m surprised to hear this. You sounded more inclined to my offer on the phone.” He smirked irritatingly when Bryan turned back to him again. The American arched a brow and the man took it as his queue to continue, pressing the glass to his lips and taking a drink. “My employer is aware of your desire to enhance your body through cybernetic means. He has spent a great deal of money in locating the doctors who are familiar with your unique physiology and capable of pushing it to its full potential.”

Bryan scowled while the man went on to explain the details of his proposal, all the while trying to figure out what the catch was. Things that sounded this good usually had some hideous price to pay for them, as he’d learned back when he’d been a cop. “So who is your employer?” he asked, breaking into the man in black’s enthusiastic explanation of some technical aspects that he couldn’t give two shits about. “You don’t sound like the guy on the phone. What’s the catch?”

“Oh, no catch at all,” the stranger said. “Well, nothing that you’d notice or care about. Increasing your size and stamina could only help you in this tournament.”

Bryan snorted, loudly setting his glass down on the table before folding his arms over his chest. “I want to meet your employer first. I’ll decide if it’s a good deal.”

The man smiled happily, strangely unfazed by the rude statement and pushed his chair back, standing and walking out of the lounge, indicating that the American should follow him.

He walked down a long hallway towards an elevator, pressing the down button and waiting patiently for the car to arrive. The man didn’t say another word to Bryan, nor did he even look at the fighter. It was as if he’d done his part and didn’t have anything else to say, which was fine by Bryan. The gleeful way that he talked about the surgery was irritating and the American didn’t want to have to listen to so much cheer so late in the day. The doors chimed and the two men walked into the car. Bryan was dimly aware of the man’s thin finger reaching out to push the down button before his vision went black and he lost consciousness.

+++

The man in black let the burly kickboxer fall to the ground in a heap and calmly pulled a cell phone from his breast pocket. The doors chimed open and two women dressed in tight nurse uniforms walked in to pick up Bryan’s limp body and lift it onto a gurney that was positioned just beyond the doors. The man in black ignored them, flicking his phone open and dialing a number. The doors closed behind the nurses as the phone rang once before being answered. “Sir? Bryan Fury has agreed to the surgery.”

+++

Steve stumbled for the fifth time while trying to help Jin carry Hwoarang out of the bar. “Damn, quit dragging your feet and carry your own weight, ya bugger!” Steve grumbled once the night air finally filled his lungs and he felt a little more sober than his previous state of completely sloshed out of his mind.

Jin was characteristically quiet, but with a heavy red blush across his features the betrayed his inebriated state. How the other men had convinced him to drink so much was still a mystery to him, but he hazily remembered it was a mix of peer pressure and a lot of irritating banter from the Korean. He tightened his grip on the other man’s waist and leaned so that Hwoarang’s body was resting heavily along his. Hwoarang seemed to take it as his queue to lean in the opposite direction, pulling Jin off balance and sending the two of them tumbling to the ground.

“Jin’s sho drunk he can’t walk!” Hwoarang threw his head back and laughed loudly, doing little to try and pull himself to his feet. Steve had agilely escaped being pulled down and stood above the pair of fighters who were sprawled across the sidewalk. He offered a hand to the less-drunk of the two, it was accepted and he pulled Jin to his feet before turning to the red head. “Looks like someone had a bit too much to drink, eh, Jin?” He nudged the Japanese man in the ribs and prodded a nod of agreement out of their silent companion.

“What?” Hwoarang was on his feet in an instant, face nearly as red as his hair. “I’m not drunk! I can barely feel this!” he grabbed Steve by his shirt and began insisting on his sobriety an inch from the boxer’s face. “I only had a few drinks, man. I’m totally cool to go another… FIVE rounds! Yeah! Where is the next bar, anyways? I’ve got a score to settle with you, Fox!”

“No. We’re going back to our room,” Jin said, uneasy with how Hwoarang was swaying towards Steve.

“What?” Hwoarang shouted, turning towards Jin, losing his balance and falling into him. His weight sent the two of them tumbling backwards against the brick wall of a shop. The Korean leaned heavily against the brunette, trying to push away to look into Jin’s eyes, but having little success. “I’m perfectly fine,” he finally said, his face resting against Jin’s shoulder. “Just help me stand upright and I can walk all by myself.”

“He’s in denial,” Steve laughed at the pair. “Man, you can’t hold your liquor worth shit. How about you drink before our fight tomorrow? I wouldn’t mind the help in knocking you on your ass. Not that I needed much help to begin with,” he added.

“You’re drunk too,” Jin said as the boxer stumbled twice before bracing himself against a street light for balance.

“Of course I am,” Steve said. “So are you! We’re all drunk!”

“I’m not!” Hwoarang insisted, yet still unable to stand on his own two feet to prove it.

“Well,” Steve said, looking from Hwoarang to Jin. “This might be it for tonight…”

Jin looked relieved at the suggestion. “Yeah, I need to get some sleep before tomorrow-!” he started as Hwoarang began laughing and Steve could see that the Korean was reaching behind him to touch him in an overly familiar way.

“Looks like Hwo’s gonna fight you on that,” the Brit said, feeling the hazy weight of all the liquor he’d drunk suddenly hitting him all at once. He yawned.

Jin found the articulation to push the red head away from him and with Steve’s help the trio walked down the street to their hotel. It may have only been a few blocks away, but for three drunken men, it was as great a challenge to their resolve as the most skilled opponent.

Hwoarang seemed to sober up on the trip and was able to carry his own weight as they walked into the hotel. Jin was laughing at the redhead as they waited for the elevator, and it seemed like the first time the Japanese man had ever made that sound. It seemed as if the alcohol was finally getting to the brunette and was turning him into a silly drunk, a stark contrast to his usual, quiet self. Steve had become strangely contemplative, and watched as his friends smacked each other around a bit before the doors chimed and opened. Jin rushed in first, pushing a bunch of buttons before Hwoarang stepped in after him.

“Kazama! The fuck you doing?” he smacked the brunette’s hand away from the controls.

Jin’s smile fell and his expression became deadly serious. It was as if the merry mood a few moments earlier had vanished and was replaced with a deadly, serious air. There was fire dancing in Jin’s eyes as he glared at Hwoarang who matched his glare.

It was a stare off, and Steve backed against the far corner of the elevator, not really wanting to become involved, but still morbidly curious to see what would happen. Finally Hwoarang’s eye twitched and Jin smirked, reaching up to the control panel and pushing another button.

“Checkmate!” he announced, launching himself at Hwoarang and planting his shoulder into the other fighter’s chest.

The redhead was caught unaware and fell back into the glass wall. “Fuck you, Kazama!” he yelled, trying to get his rival off of him.

“Hey,” Steve had to break into the fight as the elevator chimed their floor and the doors opened. It was his last chance to get in with them. “Can I crash with you guys tonight? My roommate is a freak.”

Hwoarang pried Jin away from him and shook his head. “No way, man. I’m gonna have to look at this guy’s face all night,” he said, pushing Jin for no other reason than he could. “I don’t wanna have your feet poking me in the back, nasty toenails scratching me up!”

“But Hwo, c’mon! I’m telling you, this bugger is creepy. When he laughs, it’s like he’s about to eat a basket of kittens or something!”

“Tough shit, Fox. I’m not in the mood. What’s the matter? Big, bad boxer afraid of one little fighter?”

“Shut up, wanker,” Steve said, half-heartedly smacking the Korean. “If you two lovebirds just want some time to yourselves, all you had to do was say so!”

“Damn right!” Hwoarang laughed, throwing an arm around Jin and pulling the startled brunette out of the elevator with him. “I’m gonna fuck Kazama into the mattress again and I don’t want you watching!”

The blonde laughed, not too sure if the Korean was being serious or not, but decided that it was the redhead’s way of saying ‘no fucking way’ so he sighed and pushed the button for his floor. It was inevitable that he’d have to go back, and prayed that Bryan was either out, or already asleep.

+++

The anxiety that Steve Fox was feeling did a fairly good job of sobering him up. The thought that Bryan was waiting for him at the room set him on edge and he hoped that it wasn’t the case. His balance was still a bit off from the booze and he wasn’t at his best at that moment. He slipped his card into the lock on the door, turning the handle as slowly and quietly as he could. He walked lightly into the room, ready to dodge anything that the crazy American would have to throw at him. He let out a sigh of relief when he found that the room was empty. “Th’ fucker buggered off then?” he asked no one in particular, flicking on the light switch.

As he did so, the flickering light illuminated the hulking form of Bryan Fury in the doorframe behind him. Steve started, cursed under his breath, and then half-turned his body from the other man. The cyborg walked into the room with a set determination that bothered the Brit. He’d fought Bryan before at a previous tournament, and he had the same fighting air about him then; whether or not Steve wanted to, he’d have to fight. He instinctively scanned the room for escape routes, but quickly discovered that the only way out was the door that was now on the other side of the American. Steve abandoned his plan of escape and raised his fists just as Bryan sped his approach. His feet moved quickly, carrying him out of range of Bryan’s jab before it was followed up with a powerful right cross.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, throwing out a couple punches himself, but decidedly staying on the defensive. “I don’t want to fight you until the tournament, so you can bloody well back off!”

A strange look came over Bryan at the words, but a smirk appeared on his face and he took another step to close the distance between them. “I just got some new upgrades… and I wanna try them out.”

Steve cursed, dodging an array of fists that flew at him in succession, barely avoiding the last one that nicked his cheek. He clenched his fists and wished he hadn’t drunk so much at the bar. He wouldn’t have if he’d known that he’d be fighting right afterwards… well, seriously fighting. He could feel his balance was off and he knew he needed a way out. Time to talk. “Not in the mood there, man,” he dodged a fist. “I think I saw a few of your countrymen in the bar down the street. Maybe they’re up for a good brawl.” The American didn’t react to what Steve said, instead taking another step closer and throwing out a kick at the boxer’s midsection.

The blonde blocked at the last minute and threw out a couple punches of his own. One was caught mid-air, the other drove past the cyborg’s defenses and cracked the older man’s jaw upwards. He felt a brief wave of satisfaction wash over him, but that was short-lived when Bryan’s fist moved faster than he could see and planted itself firmly in his ribs.

Steve doubled over, clutching at his bruised side and staggered backwards. Bryan stalked after him, a mask of seriousness drawing his features into an unreadable mask. With a swift movement the cyborg pushed him up against the wall, taking a firm hold of Steve’s wrists and holding him in place. “The hell? Let me go!” Steve twisted, ignoring his ribs and the pain that shot up his side. He struggled until his wrists began to hurt and he finally relented, narrowing his eyes at the man who held him in place. “Nice upgrades, fucker,” he said sarcastically. Bryan smirked and leaned in closer, the light in the room illuminating the raw desire that shone in the American’s ice-blue eyes and Steve instinctively began to struggle again, a surge of panic rising in his chest. “Uh, Fury, what are you doing?”

“Testing my new upgrades,” he said, his expression remaining that mask of determined lust. The look that did not waver even as Steve struck out at the cyborg with the only thing he had free, his forehead. He slammed it forward, knocking Bryan’s cheek, but otherwise not having any affect on older man’s advances in the least.

“Shit,” Steve cursed. “Git th’ fuck offa me!” A rough hand went straight for the soft bulge in the Brit’s pants, causing his eyes to widen in surprise and revulsion. He gave a final struggle and the older man’s mouth descended on his. It was rough, straight to the point and erratic, just like Bryan. His tongue would be lapping one second, and then his teeth would bite on Steve’s lip the next.

The blonde knew it was his last shot to get away before things got any more serious than they already were. He sucked Bryan’s lip into his mouth, wrinkling his nose as he suckled on the soft flesh. It seemed to spur the American on in his movements, his grip loosening a fraction, and it was all Steve had to work with as he bit down on Bryan’s mouth with all his strength. He kept biting harder and harder until he tasted the coppery blood on his tongue, felt it sliding down his throat and his strength was renewed to twist free and knock the older man backwards.

He’d never been one to run from a fight, but he comforted his ego by reminding himself that it wasn’t a fight he was running from as he tore out of the room. It was something far, far worse.

The hallway was deserted, the late hour suddenly very apparent to Steve as he ran down the long, empty corridor, his feet making little noise on the soft carpet. Thoughts of what to do flew through his mind. Hwoarang and Jin might have been able to help him, but his pride wouldn’t let him ask them for the favour. He knew the red-headed Korean would never let him live it down. He almost preferred having Bryan catch him over Hwoarang knowing what was happening. Getting help from anywhere else would be a bad idea as well. If he couldn’t stop Bryan, then hotel security definitely wouldn’t be able to stop a cybernetic kickboxer in heat.

He ran full-tilt up to the elevator, hitting both the up and down buttons repeatedly. He’d take it anywhere; up or down. He didn’t care. His heart was pounding in his ears and he peered down the corridor, just waiting for the American to come storming after him while he waited for the doors to open. He couldn’t see Bryan, but that didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, he felt worse. He cursed, noticing that the elevator doors hadn’t opened yet. “Bloody lift!” he swore and punched the thick, metal doors. He angrily looked up at the lights above the door in time to see the second floor light up and then stop. It was taking forever! He moaned, frustrated, and tore off further down the hall.

At the last minute he saw the heavy, metal doors that led to the stairs and he changed direction mid-stride, bursting through the doors and into the stairwell beyond. The cavernous passage was cold, poorly lit, and strangely quiet. Steve wondered why he didn’t hear any security alarms blaring after he’d opened the door, but it was a fleeting thought and not something that was overly important to him at that moment. He rushed down the stairs, his heart racing as he heard the door slam behind him which signaled that Bryan was hot on his tail.

His feet thudded onto the landing of the second floor, his breathing erratic with panic and exhaustion. He pushed through the door to get out onto the level and find a place to hide. If he could just find a place where Bryan wouldn’t look…

He stopped himself. Hide? Was he some coward that hid at the first sign of a fight he wasn’t sure he could win? He’d fought men like Bryan in worse situations. Was this any different? He shook his head, embarrassed that he’d let his panic at the situation drive him to run away. He’d make a stand, but the hallways in the hotel weren’t big enough to properly brawl in. If he let Bryan catch him there, innocent bystanders would get involved.

He scanned the corridor, looking for another place to go. He needed to find a place where nobody would come upon them. He might lose the fight, and if that was the case… he shuddered at the thought. The one thing he wanted less than someone watching him have his ass kicked by the American, was anybody watching him have his ass fucked by the American.

Both situations would be humiliating, and he’d be damned if anybody saw either.

He picked a direction and hurried down the hallway, stopping in front of a map of the floor a few feet down. There were arrows pointing to the dozens of rooms back from the direction he’d come, and another sign indicating that one of the dining halls would be further ahead on the right. He breathed a sign of relief and tore off in that direction. He’d have to make a stand, and it was the best place available for the two of them to throw down in.

+++

The door to the dining area slid open without a sound and the British boxer stepped inside. It was dark save for the light coming from the colourful tanks of exotic fish placed strategically around the room for ambiance. The Japanese-style tables were set up far apart, leaving plenty of room for the two men to brawl when it came to it. Steve hurried inside the room, leaving the door open behind him. He put himself at the centre of the room, turning the moment he heard Bryan arrive and putting up his fists. The drunken buzz he’d had before was blessedly gone after all the adrenaline had begun coursing through his veins, preparing himself for whatever happened next.

Bryan stood in the doorframe, not looking the least bit tired and he almost casually closed the door behind him and began to stroll over to where Steve stood. His broad, unnerving smile was still firmly in place, with a husky whisper of a chuckle breaking from his chest. The sound caused the blonde’s muscles to tighten, making him go rigid with anticipation.

There was a pause in both men’s movements before Bryan rushed forward, dodging the first few powerful swings that Steve sent for his head. He spun out around them and landed a powerful right-hook into the blonde’s side, knocking the breath out of him and dropping him to the ground.

Steve gasped for air, holding his bruised rib while he tried to push himself onto his feet. He wouldn’t let himself be taken down with one shot like that, but he was having trouble getting up, having trouble breathing. Bryan grabbed a fistful of golden hair to help him along, pulling the stunned Brit into the air. He was roughly dragged towards one of the tables and thrown onto it, the eerie light of the fish tanks casting his form with an ethereal glow.

Steve stared blankly up at the American, gasping until finally he regained his wind and filled his lungs with sweet oxygen. He shook his head, the reality of the situation still taking its time to sink in. He’d lost…

Bryan looked down at the blonde laid out before him; his previous aggression seemed to ebb somewhat as his expression softened to a more lustful gaze. Without a word he climbed onto the table, crawling on hands and knees until he was positioned above Steve’s body.

“What do you want?” the blonde asked, still keeping his voice steady despite the absolute uncertainty of his position.

“I already told you, I’m going to try out my new enhancements,” Bryan said in a voice much more controlled than the mindless laughter that Steve had heard from him earlier.

“Shouldn’t that wait until-ah, stop that!” Steve swatted at the hand that was massaging his chest. He tried to make Bryan stop, but the American didn’t seem to care about his protests, instead pushing more firmly with his hands and lowering his frame until he was sitting on the blonde’s thighs, squeezing him between powerful legs.

“What the hell kind of upgrades would you get that would need you to do this?” Steve squirmed uncomfortably; his previous panic was being replaced with a feeling in the pit of his stomach that would, under normal circumstances, be welcomed. He tried to bring his knee up to push the other man away from him, but soon dropped it back onto the table, realizing it was futile, and his eyes darted about him for some way to get out.

Bryan shifted his weight, bringing a knee between Steve’s legs to spread them further apart. He quickly drove it upwards until it was firmly resting against the younger man’s groin. The blonde grunted and tried to edge away from that firm, muscled thigh that rested against him then. “Bugger off! The hell ya doin’?”

The American held him fast, holding his shoulders in place and keeping him from inching away from him. “How about a little pre-fight workout, huh?” he asked, laughing as he pushed up the boxer’s shirt, his calloused fingers latching onto a nipple and twisting until Steve cried out.

Steve clenched his teeth, felt his face burning at the sound he’d made and instead glared up into Bryan’s cold, blue eyes. There was sadism glowing in those icy orbs, but something else; hunger. Bryan was radiating desire, his movements becoming more aggressive and Steve realized that he didn’t have much longer to try and escape, if he could at all. He grabbed a hold of Bryan’s wrist, digging his nails into the flesh and wrenching as hard as he could, trying to pry his hands away from his chest. He bit his lip and threw his shoulder to the side, perhaps trying to throw the cyborg off balance, but it was more of a last-ditch effort, as nothing he did seemed to move the man above him.

“Your grappling skills suck,” Bryan grinned, twisting his nipple even more in his vise-like grip until Steve grunted in pain, his nerves awakening under the rough treatment of the American.

He closed his eyes, feeling his back tightening up, his heart beating faster… and not from fear. He tentatively tried to swing his hips out, trying to approach the situation with a bit more tact than trying to muscle his way out. The movement wasn’t lost on the cyborg, however, and he brought his head down quickly, driving his forehead against Steve’s nose and disorienting the younger man with a powerful head-butt.

Steve reeled, his eyes watered from the pain in his nose and he could taste blood in his mouth. He opened his mouth to tell the other man off, but quickly bit back any complaints he had, the noise coming out as a small moan of approval. Bryan’s head was bowed over him, his tongue rapidly moving out to lap at the nipple that he’d been abusing moments earlier.

“Like that, don’t you, ya little whore,” Bryan grunted, nipping at the bruised skin before running his tongue flat against the nub that stood erect from the blonde’s chest.

Steve could feel his resolve melting away, the fear mixing with the raw hunger that he could feel bubbling under his skin. It might have been a mechanism for survival that was ingrained into his system, enabling him to enjoy the situation in order to survive it (because he sure as hell wasn’t getting out of it), or it might have just as easily been the months of accumulated stress that he’d been under while training for the tournament. Steve didn’t know, and at that moment he didn’t give a shit either. If he was going to enjoy this, he might as well get into it. He relaxed under Bryan’s touch, letting the buzzing in his blood spread throughout his body and began focusing on the pleasure of the situation. The moment he relaxed, Bryan stopped working on his nipples, snapping his head up to look Steve in the face. His eyes were narrowed with suspicion as he appraised the change in the situation.

Steve looked into his eyes defiantly for a moment, but lost the nerve after a few minutes and averted his eyes to the side. The smirk on the American’s face was almost audible as he shifted his weight again and in one swift movement ripped Steve’s shirt off.

The Brit looked down at his torn shirt as it was casually tossed over Bryan’s while he got to work on his pants. “Oi, do you know how much that cost?” he asked as his pants were half-pulled half-torn off his body.

“No, and I don’t care either, now shut up,” Bryan said, throwing the now-ruined clothing aside. He began to hastily unzip his own pants.

Steve covered his cock, “Hey if we’re gonna do this… do you have any… lubricant?”

“Why? You want me to use some on ya?” Bryan’s tone was dry and unmoving.

“Well, yeah!” the blonde said, his fighting spirit renewed. He’d be damned if he let the American bastard dry-fuck him into the table.

“I guess you want me to prepare you too, then?” Bryan grumbling under his breath as he climbed off of him and went to the greeter’s counter of the restaurant. He came back moments later with a bottle of hand lotion. “This better be good enough,” he said, tossing the container on the table.

Steve sighed, relieved. “Yeah, it’ll do. I wonder why they have hand lotion here…?”

“Th’ fuck should I know? Maybe they have chronic dry hands? Like I give a shit!” Bryan climbed back over top of Steve. “Now, where were we?” He spread the younger man’s legs apart, slinging one over the edge of the table and laying his hands on the tanned body beneath him.

Steve watched Bryan, never taking his eyes from those blue ones that regarded his body with both lust and a passing interest. There was a spark there, a drive. Something was urging Bryan onwards and, for once, that look didn’t scare the shit out of Steve. The excitement of what they were doing was intoxicating. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t that he was particularly attracted to Bryan, but the situation was so damn sexy that he couldn’t help but spread his knees a bit more to give the American more room.

“Eager little slut, aren’t ya!” Bryan grunted, his scarred hand reaching down to grab a hold of Steve’s erection.

The Brit groaned, “Fuck off.”

Bryan laughed a more toned-down, throaty laugh that still sent a shiver of fear up the blonde’s spine as his dick was roughly squeezed. The shiver of excitement that followed was stronger, though, and Steve grunted loudly as he felt himself harden further. He shut his eyes and flung his arms out from his body, wrapping one hand around the edge of the table and gripping it tightly, the other came to rest against his damp forehead. He turned his head to the side and just focused on the feeling, the sensation of those wonderfully rough hands moving over his hard cock, jerking upwards, squeezing tightly before quickly moving down to thump against his balls. It was unbelievable. He brought his arm down, biting his fist to keep from crying out.

Then, the hands left him.

“Oi, what th-?” Steve opened his eyes, about to give Bryan a piece of his mind for stopping, but shut his mouth before another word could leave. The American was sitting back on his haunches; pants already opened and pulled down enough to free his impressive erection. He watched, feeling his arousal twitch against his abdomen as Bryan stroked his cock, fingers lingering at the head to pinch it roughly before sliding back down to the base.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bryan said suddenly, dropping his cock and grabbing Steve’s knees, pushing them apart and up against the blonde’s chest.

Steve looked down his torso, holding his legs up but watching Bryan with an untrusting gaze.

“What?” the cyborg asked as he gripped his cock, ready to put it against the blonde’s entrance.

“Shouldn’t you prepare me, or something?” Steve said, irritated.

Bryan sighed, dropping his cock and unceremoniously pushing a finger against Steve’s ass.

The pucker tightened around the invading digit and the blonde pulled away from it. “Oi! Use the bloody lubricant, ya fucking bastard!”

The American rolled his eyes again, as if it was the most troublesome thing anyone had ever asked him to do. He let go of the Brit’s knee and grabbed the tube of hand cream, squeezing most of it out onto his hand and spreading it over his cock. “Fucking cold…” he mumbled under his breath.

Steve started to grin at the comment, but just as quickly stopped when Bryan dolloped some of the cold cream onto a finger and pushed his knees apart again. The blonde’s ass was spread apart; his tight, dark entrance presented to the cyborg who wordlessly wiped the cold substance right in its centre.

“Fuck, that’s cold!” Steve complained, his ass clamping down onto the finger that pushed its way inside him. It pulled out and roughly pushed inside again. Steve grunted, it wasn’t really painful, but it was distracting enough for him to forget any pleasure he’d experienced up to that point.

After a few more strokes Bryan jammed another finger inside.

“This isn’t a fucking race, you know!” Steve looked down at the older man, his face red with embarrassment.

“Hurry up and get excited, then!” Bryan frowned, a look coming across his face that said he was about ready to just fuck him without preparation.

Steve felt a rush of panic well up inside him. “Hey, just give me a minute! No need to get hasty there!” He quickly reached down to grab a hold of his softening erection, his fingers strumming along the underside to coax some new life into it. Up and down, up and down, he reached with his free hand to cup his balls, rolling the globes between his fingers before squeezing them slightly. He increased the pace on his cock, thrusting his hips upward into his grasping hand, pulling hard on his dick while his hips snapped back towards the table. He felt the pulling at his base, the nerves there awakening anew and the warm rush of arousal spreading lower into his balls. The discomfort was leaving him; he felt his body buzzing with the blood rushing through his veins. What mattered to him at that moment was the feeling between his legs; if he kept going, he discovered, he’d be finished in a few minutes. Not even the feeling of Bryan’s finger entering him made him lose his rhythm. It meshed so well with the sensations; thrust upwards, fall back onto that deliciously invading digit, jerk upwards into that warm cave of fisted fingers, and back down onto two fingers. He tossed his head backwards, blonde hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead. It was… he moaned loudly as he sank down onto three fingers, his rhythm interrupted. He ground down onto them for a moment, legs spreading apart to get them deeper inside him. “Oh god,” he moaned loudly, the name trailing off into a sound of sheer pleasure.

Bryan pulled his fingers out and quickly pushed Steve’s knees up and apart again. Steve cracked an eye open in time to see Bryan guide the head of his cock to the well prepared entrance. The blonde spread his legs apart, never letting his hand leave his own firm arousal. He continued teasing his cock as the cyborg pushed his way inside him, knowing that Bryan wouldn’t hold back if he tensed up and clenched down suddenly. He watched the older man with wide eyes, surprised by the restraint he was showing in pushing inside him (not that he was complaining). It wasn’t until Bryan was deeply seated inside Steve that he stopped, his head was tilted back, and his eyes closed in rapture. The moment lasted a second before a violent shudder spread throughout the cyborg’s body and his head snapped forward, a ravenous look in his eyes as he peered down at Steve on the table. He regarded the boxer the way a tiger regards a piece of meat and before Steve could ready himself Bryan was moving. His hips pulled back, his dick caressing the inside of the tight passage on its way out before being angrily thrust inside again. The short, little thrusts that Bryan had started out with were quickly growing into longer, more fluid movements.

Steve let out a breath he’d been holding and let Bryan rock him with his powerful thrusts. He laid back, not really able to push back against the cyborg and instead contented himself to pull on his cock, squeezing it tightly, almost painfully, until he felt his pulse throbbing against his fisted hand. Steve watched Bryan through heavy-lidded eyes, secretly enjoying the sight of the American as his body moved with ever increasing urgency to fuck him into the table. He was incredible, his whole body tensed with the strain, sweat glistening on his brow. His movements were liquid, one leading into the next in a barrage of fucking that set Steve’s nerves on fire. Then, with the same fluidity of movement, Bryan stopped his thrusting to grab the blonde’s legs and hoist them over his shoulders. Steve found himself bent in half as Bryan leaned further over him, bracing each hand on the table beside his head and somehow managing to drive his cock even further inside him.

They were face to face. Steve reached up to hold onto Bryan’s wrists, grabbing at the older man for purchase, trying to hold himself steady to keep from bouncing upwards with every powerful thrust against him. It was incredible, the older man’s cock reached so deeply within him Steve could only gasp and curse at how it felt. Bryan remained silent above him, with only his breathing betraying how the blonde’s body was affecting him. The cyborg’s expression was neutral, and he could very well have been doing something else, instead of fucking if you were to only look at his face. Steve smirked, clenching down around the older man, squeezing his ass to increase the friction they both felt. It was suicidal and stupid, but the blood that made Steve’s brain function was otherwise occupied and he felt like seeing the other fighter with something other than a scowl on his face.

Bryan grunted loudly, his pace thrown off by the sudden change in friction. His eyes cut down to glare daggers into the blonde beneath him, but quickly changed to shocked surprise as Steve reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. It lasted only a minute and ended when Bryan pulled away, bracing himself on one hand to free the other up to grab the boxer by the hair. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, coldly.

“Well, I’m sick of just lying here and staring up at your face. I had to do something!” Steve smirked.

Bryan didn’t say anything, instead sitting back on his haunches and pulling himself free of the younger man.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve asked, a little put off that Bryan was stopping. Sure, at first the idea of being fucked by Bryan hadn’t been appealing to him, but that was then and this was now and he wanted to be fucked, damnit!

“Flip over,” Bryan instructed, his rich baritone betraying his excitement. “Get on your hands and knees. It’ll be easier,” he added, “and keep you from kissing me again.”

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked, climbing onto all fours and looking over his shoulder at the other man. “My kisses not good enough for you?”

Bryan climbed into position behind him, putting the head of his dick against Steve’s ass again. “It’ll also keep me from killing you for kissing me,” he clarified and grabbed hold of the blonde’s hips, snapping his pelvis forward and planting the entire length of his arousal into the hot opening.

Steve was going to say something, he was sure it would have been really witty too, but when Bryan re-entered him he the words dyed on his mouth and instead came out in a long, deep moan. His hands shot forward, trying to find something, anything to grab a hold of, fingers finally curling around the edges of the table and holding on for dear life. Bryan pulled his hips backwards, strength afforded him by his cybernetic enhancements increased the force behind his thrusting.

“Go-d! Fuck, you, bugger! FUCK!”

“Like that, don’t you?” Bryan laughed. “Maybe I’ll use this as my finishing move at the tournament tomorrow.”

“Shut up!” Steve yelled, trying to twist his head to look over his shoulder at the older man. “Just keep…” he panted. “Don’t stop!”

“Like anything you say could stop me, kid,” Bryan growled, angling his hips downwards so that his next stroke would hit the blonde’s prostate.

+++

A muffled cry broke through Steve’s lips, signaling to the cyborg that he’d hit his mark. Bryan just smirked and kept thrusting harder. He was like a machine, the enhancements he’d been given only becoming obvious as he continued to fuck the blonde boxer. While Steve was becoming tired, nearly breaking from the strain of keeping up, Bryan felt as if he could keep fucking for hours and hours on end. His stamina felt like it had been tripled, no, quadrupled, it was incredible. He threw his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling that was enveloping his cock; wet, hot heat, softer than his own calloused hand pulled, encased, caressed… it was so clear, and he could feel things so much more vividly. Every sensation was enhanced, transmitted directly to his brain so that he couldn’t miss a thing.

He reached forward, grabbing a fist full of Steve’s blonde hair and yanking backwards. Steve cried out, the sound of pain was breathy and laden with desire. Releasing his hair he reached around the boxer to grab hold of his cock. It was bobbing excitedly between his legs and the American wrapped skilled fingers around it, pumping it while he expertly continued to thrust his hips in time, trapping Steve between his cock and his hand.

Steve cried out again, but this time it didn’t stop. It was pain, and pleasure, and desperation all rolled into one breathless, moaning, never-ending sound. The only break would be when the blonde ran out of air, and that was followed by a deep gasp and the sound would continue. The blonde dug his nails into the table, cursing as loud as he could, damning Bryan, and cursing a blue streak that only made the cyborg hotter. His words were angry, denying everything that he felt even as his cock twitched in the American’s hand, sputtering white, creamy release onto the sleek table and his body twitched violently. He shuddered, even as Bryan continued to drive into him.

Bryan watched with detached interest, enjoying the feeling of the other man’s ass clamping down around his dick but not really giving a shit otherwise. He grinned. His smile started small, but quickly grew to a broad, toothy grin and he couldn’t help tossing his head back and laughing as everything washed over him so completely and he allowed himself to get lost in the moment. He dropped Steve’s cock, reaching up with both hands to grab hold of his shoulders and lay into the younger man with all his strength. He could feel it inside him, something coiling up, readying to be released. The nerves along his dick were already strained beyond what he’d been able to handle before; everything was warm, hot, burning. He clenched his teeth, half-masked moans choked their way past as he felt himself losing control. The coiled beast that was gaining strength within him was taking over. It lit his senses on fire, overloading everything he could hear, smell, taste, see, and feel. It was all overpowered by the strength of that deliciously intoxicating beast as it exploded within him, sending shockwaves spreading like wildfire from his belly, straight through his balls and along his dick, still deeply seated within Steve. It spread outward, spreading along his spine and rapidly moving upwards, filling his chest with a buzzing sensation that shot out to his limbs and up to his head. He shook, fingers digging deeply into Steve’s shoulders as he quivered under the weight of his own release. His cock eagerly pumped wave after wave of sticky cum inside the blonde’s tight passage and he ground deeply against it a couple times until the effects of his release began to subside.

Steve made a sound of protest and started to pull himself away from the older man. Bryan smacked his ass as it pulled away and let his dick slide free, still firm and ready to continue if he wanted as it bounced happily against his navel.

He ignored Steve as the boxer climbed off the table and began to look through the pile of torn clothes on the floor. “Fucker! You ruined everything!”

Bryan climbed off the table and tucked his cock back into his pants. He turned to Steve as he zipped them up, looking over the garments that the blonde was pushing in his face. He arched an eyebrow and reached out with a hand, wrapping it around Steve’s neck and pulling him closer for a sloppy, sated kiss. Steve pushed against his chest, but Bryan just ran his tongue out of his mouth and along the Brit’s jaw line before pulling away.

He smirked and chuckled under his breath while sensually running his hands down his torso. “Hmmm, these enhancements are going to work for me,” he purred, tightly squeezing the bulge in his pants and grunting in approval before turning and walking out of the restaurant, leaving Steve staring in disbelief, still naked and holding his ruined clothes.

“Oi,” the blonde called after him. “Could you bring me some new… clothes?

+++

The image of the hotel restaurant flickered on the large wall-sized screen in what was not then, nor ever had been, a security office. A shaded figure who had nothing to do with security sat at an ornate desk in the darkness, almond eyes taking in the sight of the naked Brit climbing over the counter to steal a uniform from the staffroom. “You won’t find anything there,” he sighed in a singsong voice. That voice turned to a chuckle when Steve slipped over the laminate surface and fell out of view. Such entertainment for only a small fortune, it was really worth it to pay for Bryan’s enhancements. A dark smile played at the edges of his delicate mouth before he steepled his fingers thoughtfully against his mouth and hummed approvingly. “Only a few more to go.”