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The charity boxing tournament was Stirling’s idea. “It will be good for the visuals,” he’d told them as he pitched it to Paddy and Jock. Paddy didn't care much about the visuals - whatever the fuck that meant - or whatever the real motivation would turn out to be when David revealed some grand eight-step plan behind it. But Paddy was always up for a fight, so he left the fundraising to the others and pulled in Reg to help him recruit fighters. Given it was for charity, their friends were eager to take part and Paddy had a harder job than he wanted matching up the more experienced boxers with some of their amateur-level friends. (Turns out he needn’t have worried too much; Jim knocks his opponent out just two minutes into their match and, as Paddy is wrapping his hands for his fight, Pat breaks someone’s nose.)
As Pat’s match comes to an end, Eoin appears at Paddy’s side, taking over wrapping his hands without asking. Paddy submits to it, though Eoin’s never really got the knack of it. He seems to enjoy doing it for Paddy, so Paddy lets him, knowing it won't matter too much; he’d fight bare-knuckle if he was allowed, but Jock ruled it out - even when Reg offered to be his opponent to make it an even match. Still, he enjoys watching Eoin wrap his hand, his slender fingers moving across his skin with a gentleness the task does not require.
“You ready?” Eoin asks him, a hum of energy behind his words. Paddy hasn’t been able to work out where the anticipation that has been building in Eoin for the prior week has come from, but now that they are here, he realises Eoin has been waiting for today, for this fight. And it’s not nervousness that Paddy can see in him.
“Aye,” Paddy tells him, watching his face as Eoin concentrates on his hand. There is the smallest crease between his brow as he secures the wrap which Paddy wants to smooth out, wants to replace with the deeply etched smile lines that he is so used to seeing in Eoin's face. Without thinking, he reaches up to do just that, thumb landing between Eoin's brows and causing Eoin to look up at him, hand forgotten between them as their eyes meet. Paddy drops his hand from Eoin’s brow to his neck. “You’re excited,” he murmurs, unable to puzzle out why. A crooked smile spreads across Eoin’s face.
“Well, maybe a little,” he replies.
“Why?” In response, Eoin looks him up and down.
“You clearly don’t know what you look like when you fight,” Eoin tells him, a hungry look in his eyes.
Before Paddy can respond, they are interrupted by a shout. “You going soft, Paddy?” They both look over to see the man Paddy is preparing to fight watching them, a sneer on his face as he eyes their joined hands. He is a long-standing member of the gym, Paddy knows, though he doesn't recall having spoken to him enough to be on a first-name basis with him. The man nods towards their hands, “Need your boyfriend to do your wraps for you?” Eoin tightens his grip on Paddy’s hand, a silent signal to not respond.
“He's not saying that because he knows I am your boyfriend, is he?” Eoin says quietly, still holding tight to Paddy's hand.
“I’d say he doesn’t know a whole lot,” Paddy replies. He hears Eoin hum in that way that means he's thinking through what can only be a bad idea. Paddy likes that noise. Knows it will lead somewhere fun. When he looks back at Eoin's eyes there is a steel in them that wasn't there before; it sets Paddy alight.
“Break his face, pet,” Eoin tells him seriously, lifting Paddy's hand to his mouth to place a kiss on his freshly wrapped knuckles. Paddy smiles in his opponent's direction, all teeth.
-
Eoin is reminded of when they first met, the days when he'd watch Paddy from afar and pretend he wasn't enamoured with the way he held himself, the way he fought, the strength in each movement, the confidence he had in his own body.
Back then, he’d be halfway across the gym pretending to focus on his own workout. Now, he’s close enough to see the hard set of Paddy’s jaw, the movement of his shoulder muscles as he swings, the sweat gathering at his clavicle. Eoin feels a desperate urge to lick it. He’s certain it’s some in-built biology that drives the growing fire in him, something about finding a strong mate, but he’s not sure he cares about where the desire comes from when he could simply give in to his base instinct and revel in the sight of Paddy: strong, and sure, and victorious.
He’s in his element in the ring, unleashing an animal Eoin knows he holds just beneath his skin. Paddy's anger is an unpredictable thing, wild in its fury and cutting in its execution. Their pre-match interaction has flipped a switch in him: each movement is vicious and driven by so much more than his physical enjoyment of the fight. This is Paddy proving a point. This is Paddy coming to Eoin's defence. And it's fucking sexy to watch.
His opponent desperately tries to read Paddy between hits, looking for the tells that will show which direction the next hit is coming from or a weak point to exploit. The man is bleeding and weak. It is a pointless endeavour. Paddy doesn’t calculate his next swing, doesn’t think about the next step. Eoin’s pretty certain he doesn’t even feel the hits, that there’s no pain to be exploited because the pain doesn’t exist when they’re in the ring. Fighting is an instinct for Paddy. The beauty of it lies in that sharp-edged chaos.
As the match ends with a whistle - because no one had even thought about finding a bell to use - Paddy takes an aggressive step toward his opponent as if he’s about to swing despite the fight being over and when his opponent jumps back with alarm in his eyes, a feral grin spreads across Paddy’s face. Eoin feels his own smile grow in amusement until Paddy finds him in the crowd. There is a heat in his eyes, that stupid grin turning smug - not because he knows he’s won but because he knows Eoin is watching. Knows Eoin wants him. Eoin huffs out a laugh, his body thrumming with energy, refusing to break eye contact until Paddy is pulled away to be proclaimed victor.
-
Eoin shoves him into the lockers harder than necessary, but Paddy doesn’t mind, doesn’t feel it any more than he feels the bruising across his body. All he can feel is Eoin’s hands on him, pushing against his sweat-covered chest to keep him in place. Eoin doesn’t say anything - hasn't since finding him ring-side and pulling him away from the crowd with a mischievous smile. Now, he watches Paddy with a hungry tilt of his head, eyes darting down to his lips and back up to his eyes rapidly before he launches an attack on Paddy’s mouth. Paddy holds Eoin's hips hard enough to bruise, pulling him desperately closer even as Eoin pins him in place, hands at his jaw. The kiss is hard, all teeth as they fight for control, Eoin forcing Paddy to tilt his head up to reach the angle he wants, and the reminder of the difference in their height makes something hot and fluttery happen in Paddy's stomach. In a desperate attempt to fight against that feeling, he rolls his hips up into Eoin, seeking friction that is denied to him when Eoin takes half a step back. "Needy little thing, aren't you?" Eoin says, voice low, before he leans in to bite Paddy's bottom lip. Paddy only snarls in response.
With a mean laugh, Eoin pulls away again, this time pulling Paddy with him. "I know, pet," he says, guiding them into a shower stall, "I'm here, I'll take care of you." Eoin pulls him closer, gently enclosing him in his arms and placing soft kisses along his neck. Paddy's blood is rushing through his body, adrenaline already high before Eoin started touching him like a starved man or talking to him so softly. The contradiction is confusing, sweet and cruel at once and it leaves Paddy feeling unsettled, not knowing whether he wants to reach out to Eoin or beg him for more.
Eoin answers the question for him, reaching behind himself to turn on the water before walking Paddy backwards into the wall, the loving kisses on his neck turning into bites. The lukewarm spray of the water does nothing to cool the heat between them, nor hide the noises they make as they find each other's mouths again. The kiss is slower this time, Eoin still in control as he explores every inch of Paddy's mouth. At the same time, his hands run across Paddy's body, cold fingertips cutting through the warmth of the water, touch just firm enough to tell Paddy not to move, as if he needs reminding that Eoin is in control. Since Eoin kissed his hand and gave him permission to break a man's face, Paddy has wanted him. Has been desperate to push against him, to snarl and snap and ultimately submit to Eoin in a way he never would in the ring.
Eoin drops to his knees, barely noticing the puddle of water he lands in, too busy pulling Paddy's shorts down his thighs just enough to let him take hold of his hard cock, desperate to feel him. As he strokes Paddy, Eoin presses kisses to any piece of skin he can reach: his hip, his abs, his thighs, licking the salty taste from his skin in a way that makes Paddy think being eaten alive wouldn't be an entirely bad thing if it was at Eoin's hand.
The grip Eoin has on him is just the wrong side of painful, too tight and too fast for how little lubrication the water offers. His movements are rushed and harsh, his desire painful. The brutality of it only makes Paddy want more.
He's about to say as much when, without warning, Eoin takes Paddy’s cock in his mouth, burying his nose in the coarse hair at the base in one quick movement. Paddy grits his teeth at the suddenness of the action, hand sliding into Eoin's hair on instinct and gripping hard enough to stop him moving. He feels Eoin breathing deeply, adjusting to the size and weight of Paddy in his mouth, his throat relaxing slowly around Paddy's thick cock.
As the seconds pass, Paddy slowly releases his grip on Eoin's hair, leaving his hand where it is but handing back control. Without pause, Eoin pulls all the way off seemingly only so he can grin up at Paddy, fully aware of what he's doing. He licks a stripe up the underside of Paddy's cock then takes the tip in his mouth, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the head. Paddy watches every filthy move Eoin makes, the way his cheeks hollow out, the way his eyes close in apparent bliss, the drops of water running down his cheeks.
And then he curses colourfully as Eoin slides a hand back to press one finger against his hole. Just the slightest pressure has Paddy tightening the grip in his hair again, trying to steady himself. He wants to talk, to tell Eoin that he'll be the death of him, that he needs to finish down his throat, that he will beg, that he loves him, but all that comes out of his mouth are incomprehensible sounds and swear words as Eoin rubs his finger in small circles and Paddy's pleasure builds to a peak.
Eoin's other hand splays flat on Paddy's abdomen, pressing firmly as if to hold him in place. It is only then that Paddy realises he had been canting his hips forward, lost in the pleasure of Eoin's mouth. Paddy pushes back against him, a small act of rebellion in the scheme of things, and in response Eoin moves his hand to Paddy's hip, grip tight. Paddy hopes it bruises him. Wants to feel the marks left on him for days after, to see where Eoin has held him, and have Eoin place his hand there again, press down to make the bruises ache as he bends him over to fuck him.
With that thought and the finger at his hole pressing in firmly, Paddy cannot stop himself from shouting out Eoin's name as he spills into the man's mouth so hard he sees stars.
Paddy lets his head drop against the cubicle wall, dazed and sated and warm. A lazy smile spreads across his face when Eoin stands and re-enters his field of vision, a soft thing that Eoin mirrors.
Eoin returns to kissing Paddy’s neck, gentle this time, pressing kisses along his damp collarbone. Paddy places his hands on Eoin's waist, to steady himself and to keep him close, and realises Eoin is soaked through, his wet clothes sticking to his body as the shower continues to rain down on them.
“Well this wasn't your brightest idea, was it now, my boy?” Eoin raises his head, eyebrows drawn together in a question. “Not exactly subtle to walk out of here dripping wet.” Eoin laughs and shakes his hair out like a dog.
“I didn't see you objecting ten minutes ago,” he says, distracting Paddy with a long, languid kiss.
-
By the time they make it to Paddy's locker, they have left a trail of water in their wake and a puddle is quickly forming where they stand. Eoin has stripped off his shirt and his skin is glistening with water droplets. Paddy wants to follow the trail each one makes across his chest with kisses; gets as far as placing a hand on Eoin's neck and pulling him close, mouth hovering about his shoulder, when the locker room door opens behind them.
Several other boxers walk in, barely noticing Paddy and Eoin as they head to the showers. The tournament must be over by now. Paddy squeezes the back of Eoin's neck and pulls away, turning instead to his locker. By the time they make it out of the locker room, Eoin is wearing a spare pair of Paddy's gym shorts and a hoodie to hide his lack of shirt, though his soggy shoes squeak with every step and his hair continues to drip down his neck. He can’t stop smiling and hasn’t let go of Paddy’s hand, feels strangely giddy about the whole thing.
Aside from wanting his hands on Eoin as soon as possible, Paddy isn't interested in sticking around for the niceties so he drags his boyfriend towards the exit.
Before they can sneak out, Stirling corners them. He looks at them both appraisingly before leaning closer, voice pitched low. “As much as I respect the disregard for convention, perhaps we could avoid making a habit of fucking at work, hmm?” Eoin has the decency to blush, though Paddy isn't convinced it's at being caught so much as it is thinking about the fact this isn't the first time he's ambushed Paddy at work and - if the glint in his eye is anything to go by - won't be the last.
“Aye, would hate for anyone to think the yoga studio was a suitable place for it, wouldn't we,” Eoin says with a wink. Stirling eyes him, a calculating look that says he's not sure how to deal with Eoin.
“As you were,” he eventually says, moving out of their way again. Once they are outside, Paddy turns to Eoin with a query.
“We have not had sex in the yoga studio.” Eoin smiles at him,
“No, we haven't.”