Kick Fighting Story

MARCH 2002--Ben Foster follows Chuck Henderson into the parking lot outside a gay bar called Alibi. Chuck beats him up.

MAY 2002--After fighting Mix Jeffries in the parking lot outside Rusty's Gym, Chuck gets a one-month suspension from the gym. At the end of the month, he doesn't go back.

JUNE 2002--Having decided he should know how to defend himself, Ben joins Rusty's Gym. He takes to it quickly, evidencing good speed and a promising right hook. He lets Rusty know why he's here--no bouts, just self-defense. Over the next year, Ben puts ten pounds on his chest and shoulders. The boyish plumpness of his face hardens. He gets a lot more action in the clubs.

SEPTEMBER 2003--Ben sees Chuck come into Winks. He sends his friend out as bait, a thin blonde named Malloy, and gets every friend he has in the place to follow Chuck when Chuck follows Malloy. They beat him up.

DECEMBER 2003--Chuck returns to Rusty's. He's a changed man. In a brief sparring session with Rick Logan, Chuck flashes back to his beating in the alley next to Winks. Ben watches this, part satisfied, part creeped out. He tells Rusty the whole story, and they change his training schedule so that he won't be there when Chuck works out.

MARCH 2004--Once the Doc agrees that Chuck's scars have healed, Chuck spars with Rusty. Mix and Rick gear up and enter the ring, but they're there to crowd Chuck, to force another flashback. Chuck fights through the memory, but Rusty still decks him. Ben's there to watch again, so there's another surprise for Chuck--a fight (not a sparring session) with Ben as soon as the Doc clears it. Rusty's punches hadn't caused cuts, but Chuck had taken a bit of a beating. They set the bout for two weeks later.

APRIL 2004
After the session with Rusty, Chuck complained to the Doc about blurred vision. The Doc coddles the guy for a while, but it's soon clear that nothing's wrong. The Doc sympathizes, but there's only so much he can do. He clears the fight. Ben's a different story. The day after Rusty's sparring session with Chuck, Ben switches his schedule again. No more hiding--Ben's in the gym as often as Chuck is, matching and in some cases surpassing the guy routine for routine. He wants Chuck to know he's there, just a few feet away. He wants Chuck to watch him train, to see what's coming when they get in the ring. He wants Chuck scared.

Rusty sets it for a Friday night, after closing--only Rusty, the Doc, Ox, Mix and Rick are supposed to be there, but Ben manages an invite for Malloy. Rusty's the ref, but that's a formality--this is a fight to settle things between Chuck and Ben. As long as it's clean, he doesn't plan to intervene.

Ben starts off like a string of firecrackers, punching as hard as he can as fast as he can from as many unexpected angles as he can. Chuck's got more weight and--if he can think to remember it--more power than Ben, so Ben figures this is the best way to go. Down deep, he hopes Chuck will freak out again. Not many jabs, and not a lot of it lands, but lots of punches. The action moves to the ropes quickly and stays there in some variation for most of the round. Chuck never gets trapped--he knows to duck under punches and move--but he doesn't put up much of an offense. A few times he sees Ben drop his left before throwing his right. The first time, Chuck just watches and lets the punch land. The second time, Chuck moves to his right and lets the punch slide past. Only once, though, in the last twenty seconds of the round, he counters with his own right hook--and Ben goes flat-footed for a second or two, moves a step back. For most of the round, Ben bats away at Chuck's head, swatting him around but not doing much damage. Even so, it would be difficult to score the round against Ben.

Between rounds, the Doc and Mix are in Ben's corner, and Ox and Rick are with Chuck. Ox's large, rough hands would do more harm than good, so it's Rick checking for cuts (there are none) and applying the Endswell, just in case. Ox leans in, his massive body almost blocking Chuck's view of the opposite corner. Malloy saunters over to Ben and tries to chat up Mix. Chuck says, "Guy's barkin up the wrong tree. Mix ain't no fag."

"Don't matter much, long as they know you're not interested," says Rick. "I sparred with your guy already. He ain't got much more than heart and speed. That enough against you?"


"Coulda fooled me. I coulda dropped him by now."

Ox puts his right hand on Chuck's chest and gets his undivided attention. "Who do you fight in ring? The man you beat up in parking lot, or the man who takes fifteen friends out of bar to beat up you?"

"Fifteen?" Rick's almost smiling. "No shit?"

"No for shit. I count. I was there to stop. I see you hit him twice, one combination, and he is falling to ground. Why you do not hit him again when he is in ring alone?"

Chuck hears this. Chuck gets it.

Chuck plays it like nothing's changed, tentative low offense...for about ten seconds, but long enough to know that Ben had burnt himself out in the first round. Instead of power shot after power shot, Ben's tossing jabs, slow ones. So Chuck lets him know the free shots are over. He ducks, slips or blocks just about everything Ben throws, and the few that get through have no heat whatsoever. When he sees frustration in his opponent's eyes, Chuck fires off a one-two to the jaw. Ben's head snaps back and forth. He steps back and raises his guard. Chuck goes downstairs, hard hooks just beneath the ribs then full power uppercuts to the gut. Ben tries to go into his shell, but Chuck sends an uppercut through the middle, and now it's Ben against the ropes, ducking and weaving until he misreads Chuck's assault and turns into a right cross. To his credit, Ben stays on his feet, but Rusty gives him a standing eight count, just to be safe. There's not much time left to the round--Ben avoids the ropes, but Chuck lands another hard right hand just before the bell.

Rick's got no reason to complain this time around. "Better," he says,"and it's about time, too." Ox says nothing--he just keeps that big right hand pressed against Chuck's chest. Chuck doesn't know why the big Russian's doing that, but it helps to focus his breathing.

"I almost had him. Almost had the guy."

"Yes," Ox says. "But is not always good way to win."

While Chuck tries to figure out what Ox means, Malloy calls out behind him. "Appreciate the show. Very butch. Very macho-hetero-homo-whatever." Chuck doesn't respond, so Malloy tries again. "What's wrong, big guy? Can't handle a heckler? Well, then, sweetheart, ya better stay outta the gay bars. Been to one lately?"

"Give it up, Malloy." This comes from Ben in the opposite corner.

Malloy slinks back to his seat, muttering, "Never liked rough trade."

For a few seconds before the bell, Chuck and Ben lock eyes across the ring. They both know the score: one round each. They both want to win, but there's respect in it now, and knowledge of the other guy's gifts. They breathe in tandem, eager, waiting, barely contained.

They both rush each other but start a quick circling before they launch their attacks. Ben's jabs are quicker, but Chuck figures the timing and fires off a few stiff jabs of his own. The power of Chuck's punches convinces Ben that victory will have to come through speed, so Ben starts deploying his first round strategy again: lots of quick punches from varying angles. He knows Chuck isn't going through any flashbacks now, but he's not certain he has the stamina to sustain his speed. This time Chuck stands his ground, lets some shots through, and counters when he can, which is pretty often. About halfway through the round, Ben lands a pretty solid right hook while Chuck is leaning too far to his right. Chuck goes down--he's not hurt, just thrown off balance. This tips the scales in Ben's favor, though, so Chuck can no longer hold back. When Rusty ends the eight count and calls out "Box," Ben rushes across the ring again, but Chuck meets him with a hard left, then another straight left and a right hook. Ben staggers back a step, and Chuck follows, keeping Ben dazed with another one-two combination. Chuck ends it with a left uppercut that sends Ben down. Chuck waits in a neutral corner. Ben manages to beat the count, but not by much. The round's almost over now, and both men have tired. Ben lands a right to the temple. Chuck lands another uppercut. Both men stay on their feet. The bell rings. Rusty steps between them. It's over.

Once he's certain no one's loading up a cheap shot, Rusty steps back. Both Ben and Chuck nod their respect to each other. Mix takes off Ben's gloves; Rick does the same for Chuck. The two fighters shake hands in silence. Even Malloy stays quiet...but not for long. "So who won?"

Ben gives the answer. "This wasn't about winning. This was about balancing things out." Malloy has nothing more to say--for once--he goes out for a smoke before the car ride back home. The fighters head for the showers.

Chuck faces away from the shower and leans back into it, letting the hot water heat his upper body as he stretches out the muscles in his gut, his chest, his shoulders, his neck. He keeps his eyes closed and lets the tension and anxiety of the last months flow down the drain. He's himself again, maybe a little better than that. When he opens his eyes, he sees Ben doing roughly the same thing...directly opposite him. Chuck turns to face the flow, then decides against that, then freezes, reluctant to let Ben see either his cock or his ass. There's no good way to just leave without insulting the guy.

"Don't worry," Ben says. "That's why I'm over here and not next to you."

"Cool." Although Ben's comment is sort of an insult, too. So Chuck takes a chance. "That night at Alibi..if I hadn't punched you...what were you gonna do?"



Ben thinks about it for a moment or two. "Nah. Not gonna go there. That'd be too wierd."

"Why? You're over there. I'm over here. Malloy's outside, and the front door's locked by now."

"You really wanna know?"

Chuck nods. Ben tries not to look, but it's like an open invite to a fashion show--it might look good, but you can't afford it. Ben's no size queen, but Chuck's just a little longer than average. Tight butt from all the road work. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Frot. Just frot. I didn't want to suck or fuck you or have you suck or fuck me. Just rub against you, crotch to crotch. Didn't even have to kiss. Like getting in a clinch and staying there. Let our dicks duke it out."


"Yeah. And I like a little rough stuff with it sometimes, so when you punched me, I thought... I told you. Too wierd." Ben faces the shower in order to hide his semi-erect cock. While not quite as "interested," Chuck can sense a kind of second wave of adrenaline. Almost the way he felt during all those fights, all those times...

"I'm not gay," he says, as much to himself as to Ben.

"Hey, you asked. Like I said, I'm over here and you're over there. We'll just keep it that way, ok?"

"No. Come over here."

Ben turns to see Chuck's cock lifting a bit, not fully erect, but not flacid either. He crosses the short distance between them, presses himself against Chuck, and starts to grind his hips. Ben's hard-on slips between Chuck's balls, lifting his hardening joint, prodding him to engorgement, sliding up against Ben's tautly muscled stomach. Ben hits bliss almost instantly, but it takes a while for Chuck to yield, to allow himself the pleasure. Ben has Chuck pressed back against the tiles of the shower room, full contact from chest to groin, gentle but strong thrusts pushing them both closer to climax. Suddenly, Chuck uses both hands to grab Ben's face, and he kisses him fiercely, tongue invading, breath sucking breath. Chuck takes full control now, turning them so that Ben has his back to the tiles. Chuck thrusts and grinds with far more strength, far more aggression. Ben's legs quiver a bit, but he wills them to hold up, commands his lungs not to gasp and gulp. Ben comes, then Chuck does. They wrap arms around each other and let the water flow over them and between them.

"Like that?" Chuck asks.

"Like that."

Of course Chuck has more questions now, but he doesn't ask. They're both spent, and the warm water feels good, and there's a feeling of belonging to it. Maybe the whole journey, even his whole life, has led up to this. Maybe it's just a new rush, a better source of adrenaline. Doesn't matter. He'll sort it out later.

He's home. Finally. Home.

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