The first thing Christina saw when she pulled herself up into the ring was Don and fucking Sean Combs sitting front row center in the bettor box. That couldn't be good. The two of them were talking to Busta, and Christina narrowed her eyes as Don saw her, then pointed at her. Sean nodded, looking thoughtful, and then J came out onto the floor, tapped the ring floor with his bare fist. Christina smiled at him; and Sean pointed at him.
Really not good.
B looked from one to the other, shrugged his shoulders, and put their names up on the board. Christina shook her head, staring at J. "They're trying to kill us," she said, "that's the only reason anyone would put us in the ring tonight."
J just pulled his gloves on. "What should we give'em, the choreography, or the real thing?"
Mer brought Christina's wraps over as well as two tabs of ex. Her feather boa was sprayed with some kind of sealer that kept it pristine, fluffy, with the appearance of softness, though Christina knew the feathers were sharp. Christina took the offered drink, the offered tab, the offered stims, and then spat the water back into the bucket. "Fuck'em," she finally said, "they don't deserve the real thing."
J took the other tab, rolled his neck back and forth. His neck joints popped and cracked, and he clapped his hands together. "You don't like her, do you," he finally said. It wasn't a question.
Christina didn't need to answer, but she did. "I don't like either of them. They don't belong here."
J crouched down, leaned against the ropes, and then both of them felt the bass in the music start to thump in familiar patterns, through their bare feet and up their bones. Even though she resented it, Don's presence up on the bettor platform meant Christina was a little more aware of how her hips were thrust out, a little more aware of how J's hand, resting on the back of her thigh, looked. Christina looked down at his hand, and the familiar chill went up her spine. "If we're giving them something," she said, "we might as well make it good."
J shook his head. "You really don't like her, do you."
Christina answered with, "Where is everyone tonight?" She hadn't seen J's boy at all, and Pink and Red were up in Busta's place, watching through the one-way mirror up in the top loft. They weren't coming down. "Only regulars around are you'n me, and Chris K."
"Chris K. hasn't missed a night in ten years," J started to say, but then they had no more time, because Sean raised his arm, and Busta finally made the board flash Round One.
Christina didn't have time to move. J grabbed her thighs, threw her down, pulled her feet from under her. The sharp crack of her head against the soft mat jolted her entire body, and even as he loomed over her throat, Christina wanted him inside, wanted his hands pushing her hands into the mat, wanted his hands up her skirt. The bass boomed through her ass like always and she grabbed his arms, tossed him over her shoulder carefully, made sure he was tucked up before he rolled over - and in the next instance threw herself up again, onto her feet.
"Good start," she panted, and then, "but we better not blow it all in the first round."
J threw a few punches, nothing fancy, nothing special. She grabbed his wrist, pulled him close, and threw a leg up over his hip. Her mini flashed, flew up around her waist, but Christina didn't care. Her legs were dripping with sweat. J asked her, "I wonder who side they're on?"
They parried and hit, dancing, feeling each other up casually. J caught her ankles as she tried to kick him, and Christina threw herself over backwards, landed on her hands, poised with her back perfectly arched while J balanced her feet - then he let go and she flipped over again, landing lightly and going to punch him again.
It was nothing, they hadn't even bothered to turn off the music between rounds. Round one finished with Christina on his shoulders, thighs locked tightly around his neck as she flipped down onto her hands again; Round two ended with Justin pulling her waist to lock with his possessively. Her legs parted easily, and he was leaning down into her, fingers just about to go up her skirt when the bell went.
"A," he said, letting her down easily, "you'd better take something else. Those aerobatics are gonna kill you."
"m'fine," but it was true, she was tired. Signalled to B, quickly, so quick that no one else probably caught it, but Busta saw and his nod made Chris sigh in relief. "Just got us a reprieve. Three rounds, that's it."
"Good," and J looked nearly as tired as she felt. Course, with a hard-on all night it'd be tough not to waste energy. "I'm gonna fucking crash out after this, I can just feel it."
Christina sank into the splits, trying to ease her aching muscles. They weren't doing anything complicated, nothing strenuous, no bruises or anything - it was ballet, not boxing - but still her joints were sore from the moves. She leaned her head back onto the mat, and stared up at him. She could just see up the leg of his shorts, and shuddered slightly. "How much you think people'd tip us if we went for it, end of round three?"
J inhaled sharply, and Christina jumped up just as Busta raised his arm - warning for round three. It wouldn't start until Don or Sean gave the word; they were the high brass in the seats tonight, and so they controlled the fight, but Busta knew it would be soon. "You think," J started, but then Don got up out of her seat, making to lean down to the platform.
Her voice carried to both of them, even as the music hit a frenzy and the crowd started chanting their letters. "I've a thousand riding on A," she said clearly, "and Sean dropped a thousand on J. Make it good." It was a warning, but Christina didn't care, they'd already thrown the fight, nothing to do now but collect the tips and go dance till six in the morning. Don could fuck herself.
J shook his head, angry. He just said, "I'm in."
Don raised her arm, suddenly, and dropped it; Busta put up Round three.
This round was different - each punch made its mark, Christina felt a rib crack when J kicked her. She stopped moving, suddenly, and stood, head down. J stepped towards her, and put a hand under her chin, making her look up; she dippped down, trying to knock his knees out from under him. He saved himself with an arm, and grabbed her shoulder with the other, forcing her down too. They ended up sprawled out, Christina's leg thrown over his waist-
and there was nothing for it, the tab was floating strong and Christina leaned down, pulled herself onto him and kissed his mouth. she felt J fall onto the mat, one hand cupping the back of her head while the other went up her skirt - and aaah, a finger, pushing her panties aside, finally, finally, and then he ripped them with one hand, pulled them off and tossed them aside. Christina straddled his waist, hands fumbling with the velcro of his shorts, and then J was helping her and then she slid onto him and
that was it, right there. The music faded away, somehow, and Christina closed her eyes. Justin cupped her head, flipped her over so they were on their sides, her hands wrapped firmly around his neck, her leg thrown over his hip, and he was moving slowly, slowly, and she was matching his rhythm and it was better than the music, the mat didn't exist, the crowd didn't exist, nothing existed except her lips, and J, and her body, and his hand cupping the back of her head. She clung to his neck as, slowly, slowly, slowly, and then
crack. Round over. Christina gasped, body arched, vibrating, every muscle tense, every hair standing on end, pressing into Justin, and stared at Justin's face as she came.
~
"Impressive," Don told J when they resurfaced. Christina shook her head. The tab was starting to slide down her legs, little chills all over. She shook her head and tried to concentrate, wiped sweat off her forehead. Busta had led the two of them out of the ring, Christina in a daze and stumbling. Justin had been leaning on her shoulder. "You've a way with her, don't you?"
Christina shook her head again, trying to clear her skull. Don was talking to J; J's glassy eyes meant he wasn't paying attention. Don didn't get the point of a fight, of boxing. Christina said, "fuck off."
Don leaned back in her chair, glancing at Sean. Sean grinned at her. "I like you."
Christina put a steadying hand on Justin's shoulder, reaching up, as her legs started wobbling again. Strong tab. Strong tab. "Fuck you."
Justin nodded. "Fuck you."
Don raised an elegant eyebrow, then fished several bills out from between her breasts. "I believe," she said to J, "these belong to you."
Christina looked over, as Justin instinctively took the money. Sean shrugged, handing his thousand over to Christina. "you earned it," he said finally.
Christina grabbed the money, sure, but she grabbed J, too, and pulled him away from them. "Fuck you," she said.