Work Text:
“'Aving laugh are ya?”
Eames eyeballs you across the ring where you stand in what amounts to a glorified sports bra and some jogging shorts. You’re swinging your arms back and forth, keeping your muscles warm. Every nerve in your body is on fire with the anticipation of knocking this English blowhard upside his pretty face. Sparring is never meant to be as violent as an actual match but you’ve learned as a female in a male dominated sport that these guys never take you seriously; they never see you as a threat. That’s why you keep volunteering to fight the men in your gym. You’re changing minds one opponent at a time. You’ve managed to hold your own with every single person you’ve battled. And it’s all been in effort to climb in the ring with the bull of a man across from you; Eames.
Eames is speaking purposefully loudly to his trainer out of the corner of his mouth as his eyes travel a lewd path down your body. His full lips twist into a naughty smile as he sees your nipples protruding behind the thin material. You feel your blood pressure in your eyeballs as your ire rises with each second he refuses to fight you.
“Nah, mate, I ain’t gonna fight no woman. S’ridiculous.” Eames barks and starts to take his gloves off; you see red instantly. Crossing the ring with cat-like stealth you roundhouse kick him in the side of his head and fall back into a protective fighting stance.
“Now love, what’d you wanna go and do that for?” He asks while shaking off the blow and taking a step back from you. You hop forward and deliver a quick jab to his nose; you laugh as his head whips back and a thin trickle of blood weaves a path out of his nose and down across those pillowy lips of his.
“I’d suggest you get those hands up unless you want me to give you a one-two, sugar,” you growl with your southern drawl as he swipes at his bloody mouth. Men always mistake you for such a sweet southern belle and never learn until it’s too late. You aren’t Scarlett O’Hara in any sense.
“S’at right? Well then petal, have it your way. But I think immabout to teach you a fing or two.”
Eames pulls his hands up into his protective stance and the two of you start the dance of the fight.
A dance, that’s how you’ve thought about it since you took up sparring and MMA fighting; a sensual, erotic, sometimes destructive dance. Getting into the ring with an opponent is the ultimate in sexual tension for you and it doesn’t matter if you’re sparring with a male or a female. It’s the closest you’ve dared to come to realizing your special brand of kink. Kink that you won’t give a name to but exists in darkened corners of society.
Eames swings at you and you easily dart out of his reach. The rest of the gym has taken notice and has gathered around the ring. Some of them chuckle when you dodge his blow and some jeer him openly for swinging at you in the first place.
“Nah! She’s begged me for it!” He laughs and calls out to the hecklers, “Ya gotta give the birds what they want, yeah?”
You feel your anger surging and you grab him by the neck and knee him in the face soundly. He makes an almost comical “oomph” sound and staggers back from you. You’re pissed to see that he’s still wearing that cocky fucking smile even though you’re hitting with all your strength. Eames takes a swing at you again and that’s when you realize he’s pulling his punches, toying with you. He doesn’t take you seriously at all; he won’t fight you. You drop your hands and glare at him then turn to head back to your corner.
“Aww love, don’t be like that…” he calls out, mocking you.
“Go to hell asshole,” you call out behind you as slip between the ropes. Catcalls follow you as you stomp to the women’s locker room. You know you’ll be alone in there because all the gym bunnies work out during daylight hours while all the guys are busy peacocking and strutting around like hot shit. Only the truly dedicated come to the gym this time of night. You seem to be the only one with tits who ever shows up after the daylight hours.
Truth be told, you’re more comfortable with men than women, you always have been. Inside your mind you compare yourself to these small, shapely women and feel like a monstrosity. You’ve always been tall and for most of your life you were less than fit. But since you’ve started fighting you’ve come into your own. The problem is, there aren’t many female opponents that will even take you on and the ones who will don’t present much of a challenge at all.
You sit on the bench inside the women’s locker room and put your face in your hands. Sweat drips off of you and onto the cold tile of the floor. The silence is deafening; the sound of your heart in your ears is the only noise. You hear some noise seep in from the training floor but you’re sure that the attention of those outside has turned back to the bag, ball or weights.
Mother fucking Eames… why has he taken up so much space in your imagination? From what little you know of him he’s a cocky ass. Self-assured, handsome and knows it, built like a Mack truck and with an accent that made you wet the first minute you heard it. Not the snazziest dresser as you’ve noted while watching him exit the locker room and head out to parts unknown, but somehow he makes it work.
Yeah, there’s no denying it. You want to hate fuck him until he loses that damned sexy smirk. But you’d never admit it to anyone else. The guy probably has trim on demand in cities around the globe. Why would he ever look at a fucking tree like you when he could have his pick of flowers? But hadn’t that had been your plan when you’d volunteered to spar with him? To take out some of that unrequited sexual tension in the ring? It had felt good to feel your fingers in his hair for that split second before you’d given him a knee in the face. The feel of his traps under your touch replays in the grooves of your fingerprints like a recording of pure longing.
You hear the door open and turn to glare at whatever little gym critter has dared this place this late at night. Your breath catches as you see Eames all shirtless and tatted up staring you down.
“What’s the big idea leaving me in the ring like that? Y’tryin’ to embarrass me poppet?” His voice is teasing, infuriating and sexy all at the same time.
“Get the fuck out of here! This is the WOMEN’s dressing room. Are you fucking retarded?” You tried your best to sound indignant but there’s a trembling tone to your words.
“Well the way y’were doling out hits out there I wonder if you belong in here anymore than I do,” he chuckles and the sound irritates you.
“Well thanks for pulling your punches on delicate little ol’ me. I think I’m the one who was being embarrassed out there, asshole.” Tears sting at your eyes and you blink them back. You WILL NOT cry in front of this son of a bitch.
“Petal, if I were to hit you like a man it would be a crime…” he stammers, his voice much softer, almost pleading. The sound of him being gentle only serves to make you angrier and that’s good. You can’t cry like a little bitch if you’re angry.
“You don’t know what I am or am not capable of taking,” you seethe through gritted teeth, “Now unless you really want to be embarrassed I suggest you take yourself out of here. I’m ready for a shower.”
“Shit,” he laughs and you whip your head towards him, “you fink you got somefing I ain’t seen before?” He leans against the wall and crosses his arms, making his biceps bulge. He’s taunting you, sure you won’t do it. You raise your chin at him defiantly and pull your sports bra over your head. The cold air has your nipples rock hard and pointed in mere seconds. You don’t hesitate as you drop your shorts and thong onto the floor. You keep steady eye contact with Eames; you want him to know he doesn’t faze you in the slightest. You turn your back to him, pull your thick black hair out of its ponytail and walk into the showers smiling to yourself. The look on his face had been pure surprise, his mouth formed into a perfect ‘O’ as he took you in.
Turning on the water you laugh. He’ll go back out into the gym and probably make fun of you, probably tell the guys what a nightmare your tall, nude, body is but you just don’t fucking care. You’ve one-upped him, you shocked him and that is like a gold medal to you.
Leaning forward into the hot spray of the shower you feel your muscles ease and you sigh as the steaming water weaves delicious pathways down your skin. You let your head fall back and you relish the silken mane of your wet hair snaking halfway down your back.
You don’t hear him coming and he’s on you, pressing you into the cold tile of the shower wall. You feel his erection pressing into the small of your back.
“Hope I’m not wrong in finkin’ that I’d been invited to this li’l party of yours,” he growls hotly in your ear and you gasp as he wrenches your hand upwards and then down to his cock. You smile as he closes your open hand around his girth and presses his hips forward. “Don’t believe for a second, petal, that I don’t see ya staring at me on the floor. Because I been starin’ at you too.”
You bring your foot down on top of his hard and take him off balance as you flip him around and send him up against the same tile wall your face had just been pressed into.
“What makes you think that I wasn’t looking at you trying to figure out what was wrong with you?” You ask with laughter in your voice. He spins and grabs you around the waist, pinning your arms to your sides.
“I’m pretty sure I know when someone’s checkin’ me out because they fink I’m hot,” he mutters, his voice dripping with desire.
“I do not think you’re hot,” you seethe, struggling against the bear hug he has you in. You’re not ready to admit your lust for him. His hand goes to your center, his forefinger running up the length of your slit and he laughs huskily as you cover his digit in your arousal.
“See, this is telling me a different story. You’re drenched for me, darling.” He nips at your neck and you shiver and press back into him thoughtlessly. He moans lowly and sucks lightly on your ear. But you’re still not ready to give in and you struggle suddenly against his embrace. He’s prepared for it and he presses you back into the wall, face first. His forearm is pressed into the back of your neck and no amount of movement is going to free you this time. You feel him rub his erection on your ass, he’s grunting like an animal as he thrusts himself against you.
“Tell me you don’t want me to slide myself up inside of you and I’ll go. I’ll walk out right now and never touch or bother you again. Go on, tell me.”
Your mouth can’t say it, your brain is screaming in protest. You don’t want to want him but you can’t tell him no. Every cell of your body is on fire, every inch of skin he’s pressed against is 500 kinds of aroused. You turn your head as far as your neck and position allow and utter two words.
“Fuck me…”
You can see in your peripheral vision as his generous lips twist into a sexy smirk. He releases your arm and pulls your hips roughly backwards. His hand maneuvers his shorts down and into the swirling water near the floor drain. His hands are still wrapped from the sparring ring and it’s kind of kinky and turns you on more than a little. His fingertips run through your wet heat again and then you feel him poised at your entrance. His hand comes down on your ass hard and makes you yelp. It was exactly the thing you wanted but couldn’t bring yourself to ask for. The he slides into you, stretching you and filling you up. The animalistic sound that escapes him nearly makes you come; your cunt squeezes him, pulsates around him and he withdraws painfully slow.
“Fuck you? I’m gonna destroy you, petal; I’m gonna make you come so hard the whole gym’ll hear you screaming my name, love.”
“Still talking shit?” You laugh and with one deft maneuver you flip him onto his back. His breath explodes from his body in a steamy cloud and the look on his face is near comical. You straddle him before he has a chance to process what you’ve done. He’s deeper inside of you this way and hitting that sacred spot that is sure to make you come multiple times. His hands find their way to your hips and he pulls you down onto his cock; you gasp and then smile down at him with heavily lidded eyes.
He looks like a god beneath you, his hair wet and plastered to his face, his mouth open, his brow furrowed in concentration as he watches where your bodies are joined. He’s beautiful, even though you still abhor admitting it, even to yourself.
You roll your hips, feeling his girth shift inside of you and he grunts; his eyes close and he turns his head to the side. His face is a study in lust and the pleasure you’re giving him. You watch as the muscles and veins in his neck strain; he’s thrusting his hips up to meet you as you press downwards; he can’t be deep enough inside of you, can’t fuck you hard enough. He sits up and claims your mouth with his own, his breath is hot and his tongue forceful. You grab the sides of his head and tear your mouth from his. You turn his head to the side and tease his neck with your teeth and tongue. His thrusts come faster, harder and then he stands with you in his arms before you even know what’s happening. He presses your back into the shower wall, his face if beneath the spray of the water. He hooks his arms underneath your knees one at a time and then presses upwards into you. His mouth is open, the water streams down his brow and over his protruding bottom lip. You lean forward and bite that lip and he slams upward into you, sending you instantly into your first orgasm. Your cunt clenches at him and he curses and slams into you again.
He’s looking at you now; his cock relentlessly pounding into you, “Say my name,” he mutters; his is voice low and sexier than it has any right to be; his accent more refined than you’ve ever heard it before. You shake your head no and he slams into your g-spot again, angling just right. He knows what he’s doing; you hold your breath, doing your best to stave off the next impending release. If he can’t beat you in the ring he’s determined to beat you at sex it seems; but is there really a loser in a match like this?
“Say my name…” he growls and slams into you again. Your mouth pops open and the breath you were holding in comes rushing out…
“Eames,” you gasp.
“There now petal, was that so hard?” He grunts as he leans in to tease your nipple with his lips and tongue. He looks up at you, one brow raised. He angles his cock again and hits you just the right way and you clasp him inside of you. “Now… scream my name.”
You’re close to releasing again but fighting it. He alternates his strokes, one hard straight in followed by one that makes you cry out. Suddenly every push of his hips is hitting that spot and you can’t help yourself; you’re over the edge and into the abyss of blinding, furious orgasm.
“EAMES!” You cry out and the sound echoes through the shower and out into the locker room. Your body trembles with each wave of release; your legs clutch around his waist as your cunt milks him.
Suddenly, Eames makes a strangled cry and you feel him shove roughly up into you as his own release begins. His breath is hot, the veins in his neck stand out and for a second you wonder how the hell that bullish neck fits into a suit and tie. He makes eye contact with you as his hips give little thrusts and you’re enthralled with the look on his face. He sees you and yet his glassy eyed gaze looks a million miles away. One last jut of his cock and he smiles, the fullness of his generous lips spread into something angelic just as he curses obscenely.
“Fahck me… love that was better than I’d imagined it would be.”
You can’t help but smile at his admission; he’d been thinking about fucking you the same way you’d been imagining screwing the life out of him. But there was so much more that you craved… so much more that you wanted to ask him for…
Eames slips out of you and you can’t quell the groan of disappointment that slips out just as easily. You’re shocked when he leans in and kisses you gently on the lips.
“I hope this’s not somefing you’ll ever regret,” he whispers, his eyes are closed and his forehead is pressed against yours.
“Not a chance,” you reply, your voice shaking again.
“Can I… call you sometime?” His voice is hesitant… almost as if he’s afraid of what your answer will be.
This is sounding very high school and making you less than comfortable, but it’s cute in a way that the guy that just plundered your pussy like a Viking is shy about asking you out.
“You can call me when you decide to really spar with me and not a moment before,” you laugh and push him away.
“’Ave it your way, poppet,” he laughs and turns to head out to the locker room. He pauses at the shower doors and turns his head to the side, looking over his shoulder at you. “If you really wanna ‘ave a go at it, I promise I won’t hold back. Just be sure you know what you’re getting into, yeah?”
You merely nod and smile and he leaves you there. Either he REALLY wants to see you again or he wants payback for that knee to the face. Regardless, you’re not sure HE knows just what he’s in for, in the ring or in the bedroom.