Cian's Revenge! Part 2 - Rematch

The warehouse outside the city looked to Cian like the perfect place to get murdered. And if he hadn’t spent a good few, formative years on the streets literally fighting off muggers and those who would have taken advantage of him and little brother, he might have actually been scared of it.

Instead, the Faeblood Brawler stood outside the brick warehouse, stadium lighting illuminating its washed out face, and spit on the asphalt. Cian muttered a non-plussed, “Whatever,” checked his watch to confirm the time, and then made his way to the side door. He made sure the address was correct--after all, he had provided it to Gio and Vincent at Spike's behast...after the little twunk had pestered Cian to do so. For his safety, of course. But Cian suspected that if there was anybody in danger tonight, it was Ryan.

Well, this was the place. What better way to spend a Saturday night than get revenge?

The actual room was a fifteen-by-fifteen-foot, black box with a wrestling mat setup. Cian knew straight off that that some dubious porn company probably filmed ‘underground’ matches here. This was more like Spike’s dominion, he thought bitterly.

Sitting on a milk crate, perched next to a shoddy tripod camera setup, was the hulking mass that was Ryan—he whose body weight was twice the size of his intelligence, yet somehow less than his ego. With a blond buzz cut, a gray sweatshirt, and a permanently arrogant ‘high school jock’-looking face, Ryan didn’t inspire greatness so much as profound annoyance.

“Well, well, look who actually showed up,” Ryan sniffed, getting to his feet. He had at least a few inches of height on Cian, but in brawling that didn’t always matter. He fiddled with the camera, connected to a trail of wires that ran into the wall. “I expected that pussy little Sailorboy to come creeping here for a spanking. Was surprised you showed up—let alone could still walk after the beatdown I gave your chunky, white ass.”

Blank faced, Cian dropped his gear back to the ground, slammed the door behind him, and removed his newsboy cap. “We can stand here talkin’ trash, boyo,” he said, already removing his shirt. “Or we can get down to this and settle the score like men.”

Ryan smirked, and then turned to face the camera. “Alright, babe, you getting’ this at home?” He jerked his thumb for the lens. “She likes to watch me kick ass. Do some nasty, brutal stuff to guys. I’m almost glad you were the one dumb enough to rock up—Sailor Slut would have been too soft for her liking.” He removed his sweatshirt, revealing his barrel chest and rock-hard body.

He hadn’t gained any bulk since the last time they’d squared off, Cian noticed, ditching his pants. He stretched his legs, hoping to give Ryan a good eye-full. He thought he saw Ryan flinch at the reveal. Cian had, in fact, been working out harder.

Both fighters agreed not to use their glyphs, but Cian didn’t expect a lug like Ryan to hold up that end of the bargain. Neither would Cian. He activated his magick—just enough—to scope him out. Sure enough, stretching his concrete-hard legs in front of the bully had caused a brief—but noticeable—jump in his adrenaline.

So, he's a bit scared, eh? Cian narrowed his eyes. But still cocky as hell. Okay. Enough said.

Ryan thumbed his nose, and slowly stripped out of his sweats into a shiny, green posing pouch. He had a terrifying set of quads and calves on him too. “You like what you see?”

Cian raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“Hahaha! You must have bad taste then. My girl likes seeing me in sexy posers like this.” He grunted and flexed for the camera, making sure the audience at home got a good look, before he turned around and showed off his back as well. He even flexed his glutes…and threw in a pec bounce just for fun.

I think I’m gonna be sick, Cian thought. He had just worn his usual branded singlet to the match—though he had mischievously forgone any underwear this time. Spike's suggestion. The blondie was as sharp as a rubber ball, but when it came to ring finesse, he had a mind for showmanship--not even Cian could deny that.

Fuck, was that little punk starting to grow on him? Cian shook the thought away. The only place for Spike in Cian's life was between his legs, getting his pretty skull crushed. But that undignified end was reserved for the hulking football player stamping the mat in front of him like an enraged bull.

The Irish stud couldn't help notice how Ryan’s eyes kept travelling downward to his bulge. “Uh…wow…”

Cian grinned. “Like what you see?”

The bully went red faced, and glanced sideways at the camera as if to say, ‘Did you just see what this punk said to me?’ “As if I’d get an eye-full of pasty, milky boy. Shouldn't you be in a field somewhere, peeling potatoes?”

"That doesn't even make sense," Cian said with a scowl, circling him like a wolf sizing up prey. He’d been dreaming of this moment for awhile. “You’ll be getting more than just an eye-full when I’m done with you, boyo.” Still, he didn’t want to underestimate the asshole again. That had cost him the first time. He would not repeat the same mistakes twice...

Ryan spit on the mats. “Let’s just do this. No ref. No rules. No mercy. Just whoever submits first. Then, I take that gabby mouth of yours and do whatever I want with it...while my chick watches!”

Talk was cheap and a waste of time. Cian took a grappler stance, motioning for Ryan in his green, little panties to ‘bring it’.

Some opponents were tactful about a lockup, but Ryan was—thankfully—a lunk. He locked arms with Cian, trying to get him off balance. The red-head quietly admitted he was strong, but right away he noticed a difference between this fight and last time they'd squared off. Those conditioning classes with Liuliu had already paid off handsomely, it seemed. Cian and Ryan’s biceps and triceps bulged out, muscles forced against each other as either combatant tried to put on the pressure, staring at each other like two alpha males competing for a mate.

Thing was, Ryan hoped to win it for his girlfriend, but Cian wanted the win for himself. The only real pleasure here was kicking Ryan’s ass. Unsurprisingly, the football player went for a takedown, hoping to cut Cian off at the legs and bring him to the mats. Cian let him take the first move, and then put all his body weight on Ryan’s back, reaching around to catch his waist and pull him down with the momentum. The brawler in the singlet rolled as he hit the mat, and Ryan went flying. He immediately got to his feet, wiped his mouth, and gave Cian a cold stare as the idiot tried to get to his senses.

“What the hell!” the footballer barked.

Cian didn’t let the opportunity pass by. He sprung on his prey like a hungry lion, ready to sink his claws into him. Cian went for a guillotine, ready to choke the life out of the baller and focus on using his upper body first before he switched to his legs. That he would save for the kill...so to speak.

Traditional grappling was a different beast altogether than spellbreaking, but Cian had the upper hand. Ryan was all strength, no skill. Cian slid his arms beneath his elbows and applied a chicken-wing, hoping to bend Ryan into a position he couldn’t easily escape.

“Feeling confident now?” Cian snarled, putting on the pressure. The Killer Quarterback was a damn big boy, but the Irish stud had him where he wanted him. The Irish brawler spread himself out and straddled Ryan's back, like riding a bucking bronco. Heh, bet Ol’ Spike wishes he was here to see me mount this dumb jock, Cian thought, lustfully.

“As if I’d let you show me up in front of my girl!” Ryan roared. He tucked his chin and rolled forward, tossing his would-be rider off his back, throwing him into the wall with force.

Cian slammed his head against the padding—and suddenly his was back to his first match with Ryan. This felt too uncomfortably familiar for his liking!

“Got you now!” Ryan said, giving the video camera a quick wink before he dove down and wrapped his meaty arms around Cian’s midsection. He went for a gut wrench and pulled Cian off the mat like a tiny kitten. Then, he applied the pressure, turning the wrench into a reverse bear hug, intending to squeeze the life out of the ginger hunk!

Cian grit his teeth, but refused to make a sound, or otherwise indicate he was—in fact—in big trouble. Thing was, Ryan had no qualms about crushing his stomach and chest, squeezing as if he were clamping down on a roll of toothpaste. And Cian did feel as if his organs might come spurting out his mouth if the oversized jock kept this up!

“Where’s that submission, punk?” Ryan growled into Cian’s ear. Then, grossest of all—the asshole actually licked the nape of his neck! “Let’s hear it, boy. Give it up for the champ!”

“You…prick…” Cian spit out. He wouldn’t lose. He couldn’t lose! Channelling his strength, Cian took advantage of Ryan’s sloppy technique. He’d gotten his arms around him good, yes, but he hadn’t lifted him fully off the ground, which meant Cian still had some leverage here. 

Yep. Come on, boyo. Just like doing a deadlift. 

"Grr...."

A really high weighted deadlift... 

Cian grunted, and forced himself off the ground--his quads, calves, hamstrings, and glutes all looking like they were about to burst out of his skin. Cian lifted Ryan up into the air with nothing but sheer power.

Even the football player was caught off guard! “W-what!?”

Cian thrust his hips and then slammed his backside into Ryan’s pelvis, like a cannon ball to the crotch. Then, once more for good measure.

That was enough to get the footballer to break his grip. “Fuck!” He said, in a too-high pitched voice, as he grabbed his waist and his nuts, sinking down and back into the padded wall. "Aggghh!"

Cian took in a deep breath to compensate for Ryan’s boa-like constriction. He would be sure to pay back the favor in time. But Cian couldn't relent--not now. He went in hard and quick. With the poor football player crumped against the wall, Cian switched to high flying moves and dove at him with a drop kick, slamming his green wrestling shoes right between Ryan’s pecs with a rocket-like force!

“OOF!” the football player snorted, spittle flying freely from his gaping mouth. That would leave a nasty mark!

Cian realized he knocked the wind right out of him. He couldn’t believe it. Did he have him on the ropes? This sudden turn of events fuelled his cockiness—and that’s when he got a wicked glint in his eyes. Spike wasn’t here, of course, but he could show that prettyboy how it was done…

Think's he's got the best arse in Spellbreaking. Cian flexed his biceps for the camera, making sure they were in view. “Take a good look at your man,” Cian said, addressing the audience of one at home. “He’s about to get a whole face-full of real, Irish hunk.”

Ryan, nauseous and in pain, moaned. “W-what?”

“Heh.” Cian grinned, feeling like he was taking a page from the Sailor Boy, as he turned around and grabbed a fist-full of his butcher’s singlet, riding it up wedgie style into a makeshift thong. His big, white ass swallowed the material—and he made sure Ryan got a good look at all of it as he bent down.

“Kiss my pasty arse,” Cian laughed as he sat back and drove his cheeks straight into Ryan’s face making sure the footballer player got buried in deep. "Too bad for you, boyo--I didn't shower after the gym today either." 

“Mfmfmfm!” was all the noise Ryan was able to muster as the Faeblood Brawler dragged his butt across his face, gyrating his hips back and forth to real add on to the humiliation. 

“Hahaha!” Cian felt emboldened by the nasty move. Might have to use that one in the rest of my matches, he thought cockily to himself as he grabbed Ryan’s thick neck and picked him up for the next round of punishment.

He saw Ryan go for the low blow and managed to pivot his body to the side, letting his thigh take the brunt of the strike. The faint, green aura around him however betrayed his strategy.

That bastard! “Oh, going for your glyph, eh?” Cian said, as stomped down on Ryan’s chest again. It was now his target point. “Don't think so! You must have thought you wouldn’t win in a fair fight?”

“I’m gonna snap you in half, kid!” Ryan snarled from his position on the ground. Then, glyph fully activated, he jumped and wrapped his arms around Cian again, going for a full on bearhug.

Cian grunted. Not this again! He felt his ribcage start to buckle under the pressure. He was in trouble now...

Ryan knew he was a dirty cheat and didn’t care. He looked Cian straight in his emerald eyes eyes and smiled. “And then I’m going to go down to that stupid little school of yours, find Spike, and hang him from the flagpole by his underwear. I'll piss all over Colt's desk too. And then I’ll crush all you little queer boys, one by one!”

!!!

How fucking dare he! Cian could deal with assholes talking trash about him but bringing others into the equation quickly invited problems. This good-for-nothing prettyboy didn’t know shit about the GSA, Colt, Spike, or the good people who had given Cian a second chance! The insult drove Cian into a rage, which boiled up inside him, like steam trapped in a furnace ready to burst.

“I’ll show you who’s gonna get crushed!” Cian snarled back, as he felt something inside him snap—no—take over. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he felt both of his glyphs activate at once—the cool green of his natural aura suddenly becoming a bloody red. He felt enraged, but with a hunger, like only pain and blood and Ryan’s tortured screams could sate him.

Cian’s 'blood frenzy' finally activated. This match was about to take a more violent turn…

Next Chapter!