This is a continuation of the August/Mason lust story. It is perfectly fine to read this installment on its own, but if you would like to see how they came together as a couple you can feel free to read part one. If you have ever watched boxing, you may have noticed that there are sometimes fights in the crowds; that was the inspiration for this story. All fighters and events are fictional. Trigger warning: there is a brief, casual reference to domestic violence. Also, if fighting, blood, and sweat aren't your thing, this is probably not the right fic for you.
*****
After weeks of training, Mason's fight with Jack Travis had finally arrived. The ten round heavyweight contest was scheduled as the opening bout for the Jamison/Williams card on HBO. Considering it was Mason's first televised event, he was understandably nervous. So when Seamus O'Lydia, his trainer and my godfather, sought me out in the crowd, I was more than willing to check in on Mason as requested. And when I poked my head into his dressing room, I wasn't surprised to find him alone, sitting with his head down in quiet contemplation.
"Knock, knock. Seamus said you wanted to see me?"
Mason looked up and immediately came over to pull me in, closing the door behind him. Without another word, he kissed me with a passion normally reserved for those hey-I-haven't-seen-you-in-weeks occasions, even though we had just seen each other naked that same morning. At the time, we were in that delightful phase of our relationship where we couldn't keep our hands off of each other.
Pressing me against the wall his tongue quickly licked through my lips to explore my mouth and I went with it, assuming Mason needed this for whatever reason. And it's not like I was going to deny a half-naked, gorgeously buff heavyweight fighter anything he asked for. Surprisingly, he kept it PG13, only groping me slightly over my clothes with his awkwardly gloved hands before eventually breaking his mouth away from mine.
"Thanks. I needed that."
I patted his arms in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture. "No prob. How you feeling?"
Releasing me, Mason paced the room. "Good, good." He shook out his shoulders and released a deep breath. "Ok."
I didn't bother trying to follow him, but just watched him from a stationary position. "It's all good, babe. You put in the work, now you just need to relax and let your body do the rest. Stick to the game plan, fight your fight, don't get drawn in by him, and you'll be fine."
"Fine?"
"Yeah, fine. I'm not gonna say it's a shoe in because anything could happen."
He stopped to stare at me and spit out, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, coach."
As he turned away I hustled over and grabbed a hold of his face, forcing him to look at me and not resume his pacing. "Hey. Listen to me. If you just want someone to blow smoke up your ass, you got the wrong girl. I believe in you. I know you can beat Travis, but that doesn't mean you're going to. My dad always used to say that the biggest obstacle on the winning path is ego. Trust your body, use your mind, but don't get cocky. Seamus is here to tell you you're gonna win. I'm here to remind you that losing is a real possibility. And you're here to prove Seamus right. Got it?"
His eyes had slowly softened during my pep talk and now he smiled down at me. "Yeah, baby girl, I got it."
I planted a firm kiss on his lips. "You got this. Now fuck this guy up, cause I got money riding on this fight and I don't feel like losing it and dealing with your sour mood, too."
He smacked my ass hard enough to get my attention. "Get outta here that shit, Matthews."
In retaliation I pinched an exposed nipple as he jerked away laughing. "Good luck, Winger." I walked toward the door, but turned to give him one last smile before I left. "Oh, and if you win, I'll totally let you fuck me in the locker room."
"Shit, are you trying to distract me?"
I held a hand to my chest in mock horror. "Never! But think about this, even if you lose, I'll still blow you in the car on the way home."
He threw a towel at me and shouted as I closed the door, "You're a fucking bitch, August." I took no offense; I heard the smile in his voice as he said it.
Making my way back through the arena, I found my seat again and tried to calm myself down now that I had talked Mason through his shit. It wasn't just that I was nervous for him; I used to kick box, so I understood the pressure of competitions. My real point of worry was Seamus. Mason had taken a chance when he chose to train at O'Lydia's and not the major facility in Boston. If Mason didn't do well, it would be easy for him and everyone else to blame Seamus and his team for the loss. Or blame them for an unimpressive victory, for that matter.
I sat with Seamus's wife, Karen, and we shared several silent, but meaningful glances as we waited for the fight to start. We both knew what was on the line, but we also both knew it was totally out of our hands, so there was nothing more to say really.
By the time the fight kicked off, my blood was pumping nearly pure adrenaline through my veins and I was anxious to have it done, one way or the other. The first three rounds were fairly even, hard to score one way or the other. Of course, the biased girlfriend in me gave them to Mason, but the competitor in me knew that the judges could go either way, easily.
At the end of six was when I really started to panic. Mason was landing some clean shots, but so was Travis. And while Travis had wobbled Mason briefly in the fifth, Mason came back with an impressive flurry of punches that should have won him the round. However, at that point, all bets were off.
Heading into the eighth I was sure Mason was going to pull out a decision victory if nobody got knocked out. Pretty sure. Like fifty percent sure. Fuck. I was frustrated, so I could only imagine how Mason and Seamus were feeling. To add into all this, some asshole in the row behind me had decided that Mason was the most boring boxer had ever seen and was shouting his opinion very loudly and very obnoxiously, as he had been for pretty much the entire fight.
Finally, fed up and feeling helpless, I whipped around and unleashed all my pent up emotion. "Hey, shut the fuck up, seriously. You don't know shit about shit, so sit down."
As his friends laughed, the man in question eyed me ferociously. Considering I had twenty years of fight training and three inches of height on the guy, I was not intimidated in the least. "Like you do, bitch? Your boy there is stiff as a board, not doing nothing."
"He's methodical, not lazy. If you knew anything about boxing you could see that from a mile away."
"He's boring, so fuck you."
"I rest my case. If you had a valid argument, you wouldn't be reduced to childish blow offs."
"Lady, I know he's good looking, but the guy can't box for shit. So why don't you stop talking and choke on his dick."
He turned to high five his friend and when he looked back at me I met his right eye with my left fist before leaping over the back of my chair into his aisle. Even though I was in a short blue cocktail dress and heels I was not going to be deterred. I felt Karen try to grab me, but I was too quick. Face to face with the asshole I hit him again, but he also managed to throw a good punch that connected with my jaw and left me momentarily stunned. As he wound up to hit me again, I slapped his hand away and hit him square on the nose.
