[itaiinthard-blog]

          “i wouldn’t say that.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝okay. okay. uh---            do we actually       know each other?❞

[itaiinthard-blog]

          “well, i ain’t stupid or nearly           as drunk as ya were.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝W A I T--       so you knew what       you were doing?❞

[itaiinthard-blog]

          “yeeeep. y’patched me up after a           fight, we fooled around, then fell           asleep.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝riiiight.       of course we did.       how do you remember this?❞

[itaiinthard-blog]

          “oh, jesus christ, calm the fuck           down. y’lasted like, five minutes.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝five minutes?       that's it...damn.❞

[itaiinthard-blog]

          “… ya didn’t strike me as a top, y’know.”

[whxskeyblues]

                ❝----o h g o d       please stop talking.❞

[itaiinthard-blog]

           “yep, i wouldn’t.”

[whxskeyblues]

           ❝---oh god,       please tell me we didn't--                      you know...❞

[whxskeyblues]

( x. )

      ❝-----i'm afraid to find out.❞

[casvalaffairs-blog]

          the abuse in general was not new to donovan, as           a result of his big mouth. did he care for liam? yes.           did he love him? quite possibly. but there was still           the matter of the physical, emotional, and mental           beat downs he was on the receiving end of. they           were exhausting and clearly painful. but he endured           them. he did it for liam. he did it because deep down,           donovan wanted to stay.                     he was like a goddamn rag doll, moving wherever liam                     dragged him to. the hits wouldn’t have been nearly as                     bad if liam hadn’t chosen to wear his rings. some days                     he’d take them off. other days were like this one.           shockingly enough, he didn’t try to move away when he           made contact with the floor. the only thing he did was           start begging. begging for liam to stop because he could           be better, liam, please. he spoke between hits, the best           he could, spitting blood out onto the floor as shaky hands           gripping the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt.

[whxskeyblues]

      though this cruelty was not rare, there was another side to the fighter.       one which would end up holding donovan to his chest, whispering quiet       words into his ear & make everything all better. maybe that’s why they       never left him. or maybe it was fear that the man would react badly to       a break up. or maybe they were all secretly sadists. they all enjoyed it.       frankly, with how sassy people were becoming now a day, he wouldn’t       discount the thought.

           his grip on the fabric remained tight, yanking the boy            up each time a punch threw him back to the ground.            it wasn’t long before the begging began, each word            desperately attempting to fix the mistake that had            already been made. oh, but if liam let up, undoubtedly            the history major would not have had a proper lesson.

      with another strike, the fabric tore from his hand,       allowing him to straighten above. his eyes darted       down, watching the male’s movements. he permitted       a moment of thought before moving his feet to one       side of donovan’s body. & without further words, let his       shoe make contact with the delicate ribcage on the ground.

[casvalaffairs-blog]

          he had every right to break right then. if it wasn’t           the contact he made with the wall, then it was the           look in liam’s eyes. the look on his face. the pure,           unadulterated rage. it put the fear of god into           donovan’s heart. he blinked away tears, but it was           also an attempt to push away the pain. he couldn’t           imagine how liam’s opponents felt. not until then.                he almost tightened his grip on liam’s arm, but the                pain was too much for him to really focus on anything                else. his hand fell back to his side, gripping the nearest                thing.                                 ”s-stop, liam—”           the impact of his punch caused him to hiss through his           teeth, tasting blood after a few moments. he already           wanted to just collapse, to just slip away.

[whxskeyblues]

      this wasn’t his fault. no, if donovan hadn’t pushed his buttons,       if he hadn’t physically pushed him, none of this would be       happening. quite the contrary, he’d be working out by now.       the sole emotion he was feeling would have washed from his body.

           the grip on his neck dissipated the moment the ringed            fingers mad contact with the square formation of the            other’s chin. he allowed the head to guide don into the            wall further. liam shifted, making room so he could pull            the other from the corner, pushing him violently to the            floor instead. it was going to be a long night.

      bending down, the man took a hold of the younger’s collar,       yanking him up to get a better view of his face. his back       straightened slightly, pulling the free hand back once more       & allowing it to land across the opposing cheek, only to       repeat once the action had been carried out. surely donovan       would learn eventually. & if he had to throw a few punches       to show him the way, so be it.

[casvalaffairs-blog]

          all he could hear was the pounding of his heart,           his face flushed. god, he was scared, he was so           scared. no matter how many times he apologized,           he knew liam would never be satisfied until he           released all of his anger. and the thought was           terrifying.                he wanted to move away again, but the hand on                his throat stopped him entirely. he had one hand                on the wall behind him still, eyes locking with the                older male’s.                      “don’t—”           he choked out, swallowing the best that           he could. his hand grabbed liam’s arm, nails digging           into his skin until he was drawing blood.

[whxskeyblues]

      the anger had yet to subside. the pair of them weren’t       going anywhere anytime soon. perhaps liam would toss       donovan around the room, but there was nothing that       would change his attitude at this point. not until he had       don on the ground, begging him to stop with tears running       down his face. maybe then he’d stop.

           the hand that tried to stop him only served to irk him further.            upon feeling the blood slip from his wound, the fighter pulled            him close, only to push his head straight back into the wall            with enough force to knock back a professional mma fighter.

      ❝move your hand. N O W.❞

           he growled. his free hand rose,            a closed fist landing quickly against            donovan’s jawline. he did not want            to repeat himself.

[casvalaffairs-blog]

          had he been thinking, donovan would have never           put his hands on liam. no, he knew what liam could           do, he’d seen him fight. and there was no doubt in           his mind that liam would treat him the way he treated           anyone who stepped into the ring with him. if donovan           was lucky, he’d walk away with a few cracked ribs and           a busted lip.                     he took a step back out of habit, a hand on the wall                     behind him. it did no good to back himself into a corner,                     but he had nowhere else to go.                                  “no— i’m sorry.”           it was weak.                       quiet.           he was scared.

[whxskeyblues]

      the blind rage always got the best of him.       despite speaking as if he were calm, his       mind had already disappeared into a world       of it’s own—filled with anger & vile things.       as the smaller took a step back, liam wasted       no time to take a step forward. he wanted to       be towering over the other. he wanted him to       feel helpless.

           the words fell upon deaf ears, hand reaching up to take            a hold of donovan’s throat. it was not gentle. there was            no trace of kindness. & frankly the other was lucky liam            wasn’t crushing his windpipe.

                ❝do it again.                 i insist.                 i dare you.❞

[casvalaffairs-blog]

          a lump forms in donovan’s throat and all he           wants is for it to go away. he can’t show that           he’s already upset, not right now. maybe when           he leaves or at least goes upstairs he’ll let go.           but not now. now he needs to show liam that he’s           not afraid. that his words don’t hurt.                      “fine— fine, i’ll fuckin’ go. you’re not worth my                     fucking time, anyway. you never were.”           but the push. the push just pisses him off and he           pushes the other in return, jaw clenched. what a           fucking mistake.

[whxskeyblues]

      the words would hurt more—if he cared. if he wasn’t upset.       if he wasn’t already so angry. however, the emotion would       subside quickly. he’d go train for a while & the anger would       disappear. that’s always how he handled it.

           that is, until donovan pushed him. he barely budged.            but the power behind the push wasn’t the problem.            the problem was the lack of respect. the problem was            the fact that the other hadn’t submitted. a wicked grin            smeared across his features, stepping closer to the male.

      ❝you wanna do that again?❞                      he D A R E D.

[casvalaffairs-blog]

          there will come a time in donovan’s life when           he will leave the other. pack his belongings           and just leave, never to look back or regret           a goddamn thing. but that time doesn’t           appear to be in the near future. and he stays           rooted to the spot, eyes fixated on the man in           front of him.                      “yeah, you. it’s always fuckin’ something with                     you. i mean, honestly, if all i do is make excuses,                     then why are you still here? should i help you to                     the fuckin’ door?”

[whxskeyblues]

      there’s limited patience within the built man,       & it was running thin. hands clenched & unclenched       at his sides, temper flaring. it took one step to close       the minute difference between them, staring down at       the male.

           ❝this is my home. i don’t know why            the fuck you even come home. leave.            get outta here.❞

      & without thinking, his hands move to push       the younger back—closer to the door.

[whxskeyblues]

( x. )

      there were times in which liam pondered       the thought of leaving the other. of just       being done with it all. he’d even thought       about how it’d go down. he’d probably end       up killing the male—purposefully or not.       he was so infuriating.

           ❝M E? you think i make fucking excuses?            do you ever sit there & just listen to the            things you say?❞

[prxyimdead]

     ”I don’t fuckin’ care,      as long as you’re gone.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝Excellent.❞

[prxyimdead]

     ”Good choice, sweetheart.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝Yeah. I'll be going out that door.       If that's all right with you, of course.❞

[prxyimdead]

     ”That’s a good answer.”

[whxskeyblues]

      ❝Right. Yeah. Well, I'll go ahead and just leave you be--       so I don't get my head smashed and such.❞