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Vincent Petrone stepped into Brunough's gym, and immediately he was at home.

It was a rare feeling for the raptor, and one of the major reasons why he loved being there. The gym was designed for combat sports, one of the few things Vincent excelled at. He'd been among the athletes generating revenue for them for the past three years, ever since his graduation...a graduation that nearly didn't happen because he was a troublemaker for years, getting into fights and not doing his schoolwork, just generally being a problem kid.

Part of that was a rough home life - a big family, parents who weren't exactly the best, lots of older siblings, resentment and invisibility all over the place. It all had taken his toll, and he acted out against it, getting himself into even more trouble. Then a coach had turned him towards something that could engage that anger and energy, and like magic it had turned his life around. Sanctioned, rule-based fighting was still fighting, it gave his feelings a target, and gave the rest of his life a reprieve from it all. No one would mistake him for a model student, but the suspensions went away and he at least gave himself passing grades. That was all that mattered - fighting sports were no place for a valedictorian anyway.

Brunough's gym had hired him right out of school, with the warning that he would need to work to rise out of the amateur ranks. There was only one professional in the gym, the rest were amateurs of various levels, and quite rapidly it was clear what kind of competition he was facing. He wasn't competing against most of them, as they were outside his weight class, but he had to practice and observe anyway, and there was no lying about his envy of their still. He would have to get up to that level, and the only way was practice.

He'd competed in several meets already, winning some and losing some, getting better all the time. He wasn't a big moneymaker at this point, but ticket sales came in for the meets even at this level, and if he got better he could help promote those sales. That was what he was worth to the gym, but he enjoyed the sport for what it was, and his goal was simply to do enough to make sure he could keep doing it.

He got into the locker room, claws clicking against the bare floor. The amount of work he'd put in was pretty massive, but he still had a long ways to go, and he was at the gym every day, working out or studying up. Today was a workout day, and he was prepared for it. He got himself changed straight out in the gym, not bothering with modesty - none of the guys did, and some of them even outright defied it, showing themselves off in some grandiose display of masculinity so powerful that Vincent half expected them to start fucking right out on the floor. So far that hadn't happened, at least while he was there.

As he was finishing getting dressed, he heard a group of people speaking Spanish coming from the showers. He groaned loudly. Of course, they would have to be there today...

Vincent generally got along with the other members of the gym, but there were occasional spats and there were some people that just rubbed him the wrong way, and he them. Some of the guff came from his atypical appearance - rather than the feathery look that most raptors had, he had more of a scaly lizard look, thanks to his father's iguana genes. That had gotten him more than a bit of shit in his life, and he was only recently getting better about dealing with that in a peaceful way. And there were a few guys who didn't think much of him, didn't think he had what it took or didn't like his face or something like that.

But this group was different. They were a team of six transplants from Mexico, and they centered around an eagle named Miguel de Cabrezza. And Miguel just happened to be his weight class. Vincent did not like the eagle one bit, he was cocky, arrogant, thought the world of himself just because he was a regional champion back in high school. He was just about Vincent's age, too, and well past the time where that should have been relevant. His entourage he didn't have any personal issues with, but they stuck with Miguel, and Miguel didn't pass up any chance to antagonize him.

Now the group came out from the showers, laughing and speaking rapidly in Spanish, wearing nothing but their wet towels. Vincent tried to ignore them, but they came his way, and Miguel was leading, that cocksure strut towards him like he knew exactly what he wanted to say, probably because he did. "Well, well, the lizard who wants to be a dinosaur is here again. Has anyone made you lose your tail yet?" Snickers from the rest, and Vincent tried to keep his calm. Miguel loved to taunt him about how he looked more like a dinosaur due to his feathers, but he only ever said that to Vincent, never making mention of it to anyone else. It was clearly just to get his goat.

"Why don't you just migrate on back to Mexico, cabron?" He'd learned a few Spanish insults just for Miguel, just so it would have a bit more impact...well, okay, it was more to make sure he knew what Miguel was calling him, but if he had it he might as well use it.

"Why? Scared I'm going to overtake you? I'm rising faster than you ever did, you know...they say I could be at the top of the list within two years."

"They say that to everyone, you twit. It's called motivation." Vincent had heard that himself as recently as last year, and he didn't believe a word of it. He'd seen the people at the top of the amateur ranks, they had years more experience. If anything, he was probably four or five years away, and that was with luck, a significant increase in his own skill, and no major injuries. "And who cares if you're faster up than I was? I'm higher than you are, and I don't plan on going back down."

"So you say, but I see the fear in you, that you will fall before me. You know I'm better, and that I'll be where I deserve to be quite soon...you'll have to grovel at my feet to be part of the meets. I'll bet that scares you a lot."

Vincent stood up and marched right into Miguel's face. The two stood almost eye-to-eye, a match in height as well as weight. "Like hell I'd be scared of a fucking pillow filler like you. I'd take you on any day, any time."

Miguel just cocked his head. "Fine then. After hours in the gym tonight. Alone, just the two of us in the ring. We'll see who comes out ahead then."

That was a clear bad idea. Alone meant without any coaches or safety monitors, and with all the gear locked up most likely meant no actual safety equipment, meant to prevent serious real injuries in a rough sport. But Vincent was hot, and he wasn't about to let that stop him. "Fine. Game on. You'd better be there, or I'm telling everyone that you're really a chicken."

Miguel smirked. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, chichi."

---

The hours couldn't pass fast enough for Vincent. The thought of that arrogant eagle was really getting his blood boiling today, enough that it was clearly coming through in his training. Even the coaches noticed, though he kept his mouth completely shut about what he was seething over. They didn't press the issue - they knew they worked with some hotheads, and that sometimes it was better to let them work it out for themselves.

Once his formal training session was done, he spend more time dicking around doing whatever suited his fancy to kill time. Stretches, exercises, personal training routines, anything to work off his steam. Eventually, people started to trickle out, the gym slowly getting more and more empty. No one really made any noise over his sticking around - it was far from unheard of for team members to stay after everyone else had come home, as long as they didn't create any messes or damage no one seemed to mind.

It was after 10 PM when the last few people made their way out, bidding farewell to Vincent as they left. By now the hours of working himself had left him a little worn out, and he realized he probably wasn't going to be in his best shape for the bout between him and Miguel...foresight had never been his strong suit. With a grunt, he sat himself in one of the chairs near one of the practice rings, waiting for the bird to show his face.

It was about ten minutes before Miguel finally appeared, dressed in his practice clothes, with the same swagger as always. "Loafing around, lagarto? You'll surely defend your place with that attitude."

The raptor scowled darkly at him. "Can it, canary. I've been working my ass off all day, what the hell have you done?"

"That's my business, not yours. If you are so invested in learning, you'll have to force it out of me. Of course, I doubt you'll be doing much of that." The eagle popped over the tethers and into the practice ring, strutting around like it was his territory. "You going to join me, or can I just call it a win for me right now?"

Snarling, Vincent leapt up from his chair and vaulted into the ring, raising his fists and taking a battle stance. "Come at me, bitch."

"As you wish." Miguel rushed him, hurling himself into a flying kick. Normally this wouldn't be nearly as scary, but the bare talons rushing towards his face were much more dangerous without protective gear. He dove out of the way, letting Miguel crash into the ground, paying for the aggressive move. Both of them had to scramble back into position quickly, facing each other down again.

Vincent make the offensive strike next, but a lot less recklessly than Miguel, throwing a few punches as he got in close to the eagle. Miguel dodged carefully, ducking and weaving around the punches and not letting a single one land. After a few moments of defense he tried to counter, hands flying forward to throw some body blows, but Vincent parried them and got in a leg sweep, throwing Miguel to the ground. He was back on his feet in a flash, and charged forward again, throwing a few wild punches towards Vincent's head to distract him so he could land a kick to his midsection.

The raptor staggered back, winded, feeling a bit of blood trickle down from a cut inflicted by Miguel's sharp talons. He didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, as Miguel wasn't giving him any time to relax if he wasn't on the ground. He narrowly blocked the next punch, shoved Miguel low to throw him off-balance, and then whirled around, the end of his tail smacking against the eagle's head hard. It knocked him to the turf, and he was somewhat slow to recover, rubbing his head as he tried to stand. "Mierda...hijo de mil putas..."

"Knocked the fucking English out of you, did I?"

Miguel shook his head roughly and glowered at Vincent, his swagger gone. Instead of replying to the taunt, he shot at Vincent again, throwing a flurry of fists at him, a couple of which got through and nailed him on the snout and gut. Before he could recover, Miguel drove a shoulder into his stomach, nearly taking him down; only the ropes at the edge of the ring kept him upright. Once again, he was winded, this time more badly than before.

The eagle smacked the mat again as he slid off of Vincent's body, but rose fast once more. His legs lashed out, kicking at Vincent's chest, the raptor just backing away enough to avoid taking a blow. He knew he needed to get back in control of the match but his thoughts were slowed by the loss of air...he saw Miguel gearing up for a powerful kick to his head, that would put him down for good. Just before he could launch it, Vincent shoved off to his left

---

The next thing Vincent was aware of, he was laying in an unfamiliar bed, white all around him. The light shining down was rather hurting his eyes, forcing him to shield them from the glare. He had a splitting headache, mainly on the left side of his head, and he was sore over the rest of his body as well. "Wh...what?"

"Oh, you're awake! How's the head?" Squinting a bit, Vincent could make out the figure of a tigress in scrubs. Oh...hospital.

"Hurts like a bastard. You got anything for it?"

"I'm sure we do, we just need to make sure you don't have any allergies or other reactions, or health conditions. Do you feel all right to talk?"

Things got a bit hazy again as he went through the nurse's interrogation. It was mostly stuff he didn't know anything about anyway, though there was a part when she asked what had happened. Miguel had brought him in, told her something, she wanted to confirm it...he had no idea what Miguel had said, so he did his best to come up with a convincing lie about training at the gym. It probably wasn't that good of one, but maybe she'd chalk it up to his wooziness.

A quick injection followed, and Vincent was quite pleased with its effectiveness - the pain wasn't gone entirely but was drastically less, and it made him feel pretty mellow, too. He was able to sit up finally, get some water in him...and then the nurse brought in Miguel. The eagle was looking quite downtrodden, a sharp departure from anything Vincent had ever seen in him before. As they were left alone, he took a seat, averting his gaze from him. "I'm glad you're all right, Vincent..."

"You sure look it. What happened? I don't really remember...we were, um, doing that, and then you were about to do a kick...and everything goes blank after that. Did you-"

"You hit the corner pole. Went down in a heap. I thought it was a trick at first, then tried to wake you up. When I couldn't, I brought you here in my car. They said you got a nasty concussion from it...they gave you something to stave off long-term damage, or something like that."

"Shit. Even with that, they're gonna have me on at least two weeks injury and a lot of testing...hey, what did you tell them? You know, the nurse, she was asking about what happened. I said we were just doing some training, but I couldn't really come up with much else."

"Mostly the same thing. I told them we were doing some training after hours and things went bad. So they don't know that we were actually sparring against each other...hopefully they won't suspect back at Brunough's."

"Rgh...fuck. Well, they're gonna know we weren't doing everything right. At least it's not as bad as it might've been years ago..."

"Perhaps..."

Vincent gave Miguel a look. "What is it? You can't seriously be that broken up about me taking a hit on the head. You know I'll be fine."

"Be that as it may, it should never have come to that. It was an idiotic thing to challenge you to an after-hours match. It could not have ended well, only poorly. One of us would have been hurt, if not both of us."

"Well, yeah, that could potentially happen. But I wasn't gonna actually go all out on you. I would've stopped before doing anything that would really hurt, at least intentionally. Hell, if I wanted to end it fast I'd've done the tail whip closer to you, that would've probably had us switching places here."

"Wait...you were planning to do that?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm not an idiot, they'd know for sure if I kicked your ass...wait, that wasn't what you were planning? I thought you were doing this so that if I beat you you'd be able to say you were going easy on me!" Miguel's shocked look said it all to him. "So what was the deal, then?"

"I...well, it's...I was afraid that I was going to lose."

Vincent hadn't been expecting that. "Huh?"

"I didn't want the others to see me lose, and so I wanted it to be at a time where I could make sure they weren't watching, and then not tell them about the outcome."

"No way. You? You're so cocky you could be a rooster in disguise."

Miguel shook his head. "I do not let them know what I really fear. I make a show of confidence and fearlessness, but the fighters here, they are much more difficult than the ones in Mexico. I have often been astonished by what they can do...but the others, they see me as an inspiration, and so I cannot let them see what I feel."

"And you think you can protect them forever? They need to wake up to reality sooner or later...better they know now what they're up against than find out in the leagues."

"Yes, but I fear disappointing them. They don't know anyone around here, they look to me for inspiration...I fear that if I failed them, they would feel lost, and would become too afraid to keep going. They might wish to return to Mexico, fearing that they could not ever hope to keep up."

"Then they weren't ever capable of making it here in the first place." Vincent glowered at Miguel. "You want to be a leader? Stop being scared of putting yourself on the line. Step up and actually prove what you're made of. And if it's not enough? Then you push yourself to get better and try again. They can't handle the thought of that hard work? Then they'll never be good anywhere."

"...You're right...of course. It was stupid of me to think otherwise. And I suppose I was scared to let them know I failed as well..."

"You can't ever be that way. Failing is part of the life we live. And no one likes it. I hate failing, just about everyone does. But I'm not scared of it. You can't ever let yourself be scared of it. Instead, you go out there and fight it. Sometimes you win, sometimes it wins. If it does, get back out there and try again. Challenge it, and beat it."

"I understand..."

"Then prove it."

"Eh?"

"Challenge me. A real match. Not some after-hours bullshit with no rules and no one watching. The real deal, in front of the whole gym, everything set up just like a regulation match. Show me what you're made of."

Miguel was more hesitant than Vincent expected, looking away for a good minute or so. The raptor watched, almost able to see the struggle within him; the battle between his pride and his fear, a fight that he'd seen in more than a few fighters that had come through the gym. He hadn't really had it himself, having not really had much in the way of pride...his battle had been a different one, one he was still fighting, the one about control of himself. Today hadn't been a good day for that...but if it changed the tenor between him and Miguel, maybe that was for the better.

"...Okay. You've got yourself a match, Vincent. I'll...I'll let the coaches know I want to set that up. I'm sure they won't let it happen until you're cleared...but the sooner the better."

"Good. That'll be the real test. And make sure you come ready for it. I don't want to see you looking like a scared little chicken, I want you raring to go."

Miguel nodded, looking a little more resolute. "You can count on that."

---

A month passed before the planned fight came about. Both Vincent and Miguel got a stern talking-to for their after-hours shenanigans, but that was the most punishment they had to face, due to having clean records up to that point. Much longer was Vincent's medical deferment, a full two weeks for concussion recovery as well as plenty of tests to confirm a full recovery before he was allowed back into action. Thankfully, he was able to pick up where he left off, and was back in the swing of things just a few days after he was cleared.

By that point, everyone knew about the impending match between him and Miguel, and everyone was taking sides. He got comments about it several times a day, to the point where he was getting a bit tired of hearing about it, though he tried not to snap at anyone over it, a test of his self-control for sure. Some of them were supportive, others were clear taunting, usually from one of Miguel's flock, though the eagle himself stayed silent - Vincent knew he was getting much the same treatment. Even rumors of a betting pool had arisen, favoring Vincent by a slight edge.

When they day came around, the hype swelled to a maximum; it seemed like all anyone could talk about, even the coaches. The ring was prepped, and everyone was crowding around, trying to get the spot with the best view before they were walled out. A couple small scuffles had to be broken up, emotions running hot all over the place.

The locker room, on the other hand, was dead empty, and Vincent really appreciated that. The silence helped him collect his thoughts, get himself psyched up. Usually the chaos before a meet didn't give him that opportunity, forcing him to find some alternative. Right now, the only noise he had to listen to was the pounding of his heart; his nerves were more on edge than ever, even beyond official matches. They shouldn't have been, Miguel was just another opponent, not even the scariest he'd faced, and there was no real risk to him other than a blow to his pride...yet, none of that helped soothe his turmoil.

He sat quietly on the bench, fully in uniform, just trying to assuage his mind of its fears. Just as he felt like he was getting the hang of it, the clicking of talons warned him of a comer. "You ready for the match?"

Vincent opened his eye and saw Miguel standing next to him, also in uniform. He was smiling, but it seemed to lack that usual arrogance. He closed it up again. "I'm getting there, so please, a bit of quiet."

"Quiet...hm, interesting. I prefer a bit of noise, the feeling of people around me gets me pumped up. This silence is disconcerting."

"Yeah, well, some people are different. If you want noise, there's plenty to be found."

"Of course, but I actually wanted something else. How about we lay a little wager on the line, amigo?"

Vincent opened his eyes back up and looked up at him, wondering if he'd gotten that cockiness back in him, but Miguel looked fairly genuine here, not like he was expecting to win but like he really wanted to lay something on the line. "What're you thinking?"

"Nothing too extreme. The loser buys the winner a dinner. They choose the place, but it has to be something better than a cheap dive. Does that sound good?" The eagle stuck his hand out, waiting patiently for Vincent's assent.

It was hardly an outlandish wager, and Vincent could see nothing wrong with it. He took the hand, sealing the deal. "You're on. Better have some good places in mind."

"I would advise the same of you, señor." Miguel walked off, heading out of the locker room towards the ring. Vincent stood, letting out a deep sigh, trying to expel all the anxiety; somehow, the wager had felt like it helped settle his nerves. He shook his head and exited, focused on one single goal: beating the tar out of Miguel properly.

---

The ring was raucous, as expected, with virtually everyone in the gym feeling the excitement. It was quite a crowd around as a result, not that Vincent expected otherwise. Vincent didn't really pay much attention to that, though; his only concern was in the ring, with the bird in the opposite corner. Miguel looked more anxious, fidgety in his gear; Vincent was calm outward, though he felt some energy inside, the usual nerve he had before the match. The stakes were low, but he never took any match less seriously than any other.

The two of them were outfitted similarly - a light jersey and shorts for uniform, and the special protective gear that kept them safe. Rings around their arms and legs and a collar around their neck, projecting special fields that would allow them to feel the blows with virtually no drop-off from normal but prevented any physical damage, though it would contribute to fatigue. The rings were lit up with colors, all a uniform green; they would slowly go to red as the wearer wore down, and would go out on a knockout.

One of the coaches acted as referee and brought them to the center of the ring. Vincent zoned out as he gave his spiel; he'd heard it more than enough times before to have it down to memory, and it wasn't that important anyway for this match. He was staring down Miguel, trying to get a psychic advantage through intimidation; any little bit of edge he could find was of use to him. The eagle seemed resolute enough, but perhaps a bit too tense.

Once the coach backed away, anything was fair game. They were still several feet away from each other, far enough to see who made the first move, and to be prepared for it...Vincent immediately went on the defensive, and was glad for it as Miguel launched into an attack right away, a flying kick similar to the one he'd used in their late-night spat. He was closer this time, but Vincent was more prepared, and instead of dodging caught Miguel's foot in his claws and countered with a shin to his side, throwing Miguel to the ground. He was back up in a flash, eyes dark at the failed gambit.

Early on the tempo was clear - Miguel was the instigator, Vincent more defensive. The raptor liked to look for openings and take advantage with short bursts of ferocity, but Miguel wasn't leaving many changes for that. He got up close fast, fists and feet rapidly trying to break through, and Vincent could only try to deflect and dodge as much as possible and counter where he could. For a couple minutes all they did was trade fairly light blows, most of what they'd each thrown was guarded...their rings were both slowly yellowing, Miguel's maybe a touch more than Vincent's but not significantly.

Then, as Miguel came forward for a shot to Vincent's head, the raptor spied an opening. In a flash, he ducked and laid in a gut punch to Miguel's exposed stomach, followed by another and another. Miguel struggled to recover; curling over exposed his face, and he ended up taking several shots to the head and jaw before stemming the tide. He was panting hard as he steadied himself, and his rings were a bright orange, a warning sign for him and a good sign for the raptor.

Soon enough Miguel came at him again, a bit more tentative due to his weariness but still plenty aggressive. It was only moments later that Vincent spied another opportunity, or thought he did; as he swung, he realized too late that Miguel had faked him out, and he got a knee to the jaw and a couple more cracks in the snout before he swung his claws blindly and caught the eagle's face, driving him back. It had narrowed the gap, and he knew he had to be careful now, he couldn't count an any easy openings now that Miguel had him pegged. He had to make his opportunities...and he wasn't entirely sure how. Miguel at least didn't have any obvious style flaws to exploit, it would take more study to find the weaknesses.

But...I have my specialty, and he's probably too engaged to be ready for it.

They were both nearing the red zone, the point where any momentum could be the match clincher. Vincent was still in slightly better shape but not enough to protect him from a rush, and Miguel had shown him clearly that he could rush if he got his chance. It was time to finish things if he could. He got up close and engaged Miguel, throwing off the match's balance with his own aggressive maneuver, trying to bait the eagle just the right way. It worked, even though he had to trade one of his own for two from Miguel, he had things where he wanted them. He staggered back in a slightly exaggerated manner from a kidney shot, then struck as Miguel went in for the follow-up; he blocked the punch, nicked his leg just enough to push him down a bit, then whipped his body around, slinging his tail into Miguel's head. This time it hit towards the middle, the thickness of the limb bringing far more power than their earlier bout had shown, and it nailed Miguel right in the temple. He was flung to the ground, slamming hard, the rings instantly going dark; he laid there moaning, exhausted and disoriented from the force of the blow, though unhurt as he should have been.

A cheer went up from the crowd at the finely-executed finisher. Vincent stumbled backwards, giving space for the trainers to check in Miguel and get him upright; it took a couple moments for the victory to sink in, but he felt the grin growing on his face, and soon enough restraint went out the window. He tossed his hands up in the air and let out a cry of triumph as the rush of victory took him over.

He had won. It hadn't been easy...but if it had been, it wouldn't have been nearly as sweet.

---

The thrill of his success had Vincent on a high the whole rest of the day and the next. It wasn't the biggest victory he'd had, not even close, but it was one of the most satisfying - a tough match that that put to rest a bit of frustration that had been sticking around for several years. It would be far easier to deal with Miguel now - not just by virtue of having beaten him and proven himself, but he'd probably put the feud between them to rest. He didn't have to be friends with everyone, but it was nice not to be outright enemies.

But he didn't forget what their deal had been. Miguel owed him a meal, and the day after the match he called and said he had set it up, and would pick him up for it that evening. He also said to wear something on the nicer side, which Vincent found odd, but didn't question. He didn't have many nice clothes, he wasn't much for dressing up and didn't really have to be in his profession, but he was able to scrounge up a button-down shirt and some khakis. It was weird, he felt almost a bit apprehensive about it...it felt like it was a bigger deal than he'd expected it to be. It was just a dinner, a loser-treats-winner deal, nothing special...so why was he thinking so much about it?

And then Miguel showed up, and that only compounded the issue. Because Miguel was wearing something much nicer than him, clothes that seemed vaguely reminiscent of a mariachi outfit, only lacking the hat for the complete image. Vincent had to admit, the eagle looked damn fine in them, both physically and culturally a good match for him. But it made the meal take on even more significance...if Miguel thought it was worth getting gussied up like that, then there was some reason for it. "Wow...you went all out, didn't you? I feel underdressed."

"Think nothing of it, amigo. I am a bit overdressed...I haven't quite put myself in the right space between casual and formal yet, I'm afraid. But come, we have a destination to get to."

An so the eagle had driven them to the restaurant, keeping Vincent in conversation the whole time. He asked the raptor about his story, his past, his family, things that were quite personal and that Vincent hadn't known him to take an interest in before. It got him wondering whether he was genuinely curious or was just trying to keep him distracted so he didn't pick up on where they were going. Whichever it was, Miguel was good at keeping the talk rolling, keeping them engaged for the entire twenty-minute drive, until they parked and exited. When Vincent got out and got a good look at where they were, his jaw dropped.

"Palacio Del Primavera? You're serious?"

Miguel smirked at him. "I did say no cheap dives."

"Yeah, well, you also said nothing extreme. I'd call the most upscale Hispanic cuisine place in the city a bit extreme, you know."

"Oh, please, As if I didn't know that you would've gone for Di Alina's." Vincent went a bit red; how Miguel had known that he would've selected the most expensive Italian place he knew of was beyond him. He must've been asking around, looking for ideas for where Vincent would've suggested if he was taking someone out.

"I might NOT have taken you there..."

"Doesn't matter much now, since you're not the one buying. If there's a rematch in the offing, I'll know what to expect." Miguel chuckled and headed off towards the building, leaving Vincent left to follow behind awkwardly. More and more he felt underdressed, he didn't know places like this very well, but if it was as ritzy as it looked, he'd be the grungiest one there. Usually he didn't mind that, he didn't often care much what others thought of him, but for some reason it felt more important this time...

The two of them entered the restaurant, and Miguel chatted with the host in Spanish, the two of them sounding quite animated. Vincent couldn't follow it at all, even the few pieces that he recognized as sounding similar to words from his parents' conversations in Italian he couldn't really put together...whatever they were saying, though, it had some effect, since the server brought them to a table right away, even before some people who seemed to already be waiting. I guess it helps to know the language here...

Thankfully, the menus were in English, so he could make sense of what was being offered, though most of the dishes he didn't know that much about. There were names he'd seen or heard before, but he couldn't put them to any visuals, leaving him less than certain about what to order. Miguel seemed to pick up on his confusion, grinning at him as he recommended a couple of options. Tempting as it was to tell the eagle to mind his own business, he actually found himself a bit grateful for the help...maybe he was mellowing out a bit.

After placing their orders, the two fell into casual chatter, or as casual as Vincent could manage. Small talk wasn't his forte, and he tended to lapse into discussions about the combat circuit as a fallback, where he knew that Miguel could keep up with him. But the bird seemed to have other things on his mind, making the conversation drift to other subjects...music, cars, old Mexican legends, politics, plenty of stuff that he only had meager contributions towards. Yet, he'd often pause and wait for Vincent's reply, forcing the raptor's brain to scramble to come up with something non-stupid to say. Perhaps he should've seen it coming...there was going to be time for chit-chat, and he couldn't talk about his sport the whole time.

The meal was a nice reprieve...he was actually kind of enjoying the conversation but needed a breather to recharge his thoughts and come up with something of his own to talk about. He dug into his plate, a dish he wasn't entirely sure what it even was, but it was pretty good, if a bit spicy for his tastes. He did his best to maintain a bit of communication as they ate, but found himself met with silence more often than not...Miguel was eating more quietly, and looking at him in a strange way, like he was staring or intently focused. He'd only ever really experienced that in the ring with an opponent...but somehow this didn't feel like the same thing.

He didn't want to make things awkward, but it was confusing to him. Finally, he tried to bring it up in the most casual way he could. "You okay, Miguel? You haven't been saying as much as I expected you to."

Miguel shrugged slightly. "I can only blame you for that, Vince. It's just too tempting to look at you. You are quite cute, after all."

Vincent and the word 'cute' had had a rather hostile history; virtually every time he heard it directed at him, it was in a negative sense, a coach telling him not to get cute with his footwork or approach, or his teachers telling him not to be cute about his excuses for not turning in his homework or getting into another fight. He had told people a number of times that he could handle going through life never actually being called cute for the rest of his life.

But the way Miguel said it...completely devoid of insincerity or patronization, and unforced, merely an observation, a casual fact of existence...it suddenly got Vincent blushing hard, feeling unusually taken by the compliment. He almost got a bit self-conscious, pausing briefly in his meal as swallowing became a bit difficult. Miguel's smile only intensified those feelings, leaving him flustered. "Y-you...you think..."

"Immensely, amigo. You had me quite, ah, smitten, I suppose, the moment I first laid eyes on you. I have seen a great many fighters in my time, Vince, but none of them aroused my feelings in such a way as this. I've wanted to get to know you better for some time, but I felt such a deep obligation to my compatriots to have this endless confidence and arrogance, it made it very difficult to try to approach."

"Was that why you..."

Miguel nodded; his behavior told Vincent that he was blushing as well, though his feathers hid the coloring better. "I figured a dinner like this would give us a chance to talk to each other without worries, just the two of us, to really get to know each other."

"I...can honestly say I did not expect that. I...I'm not really sure what to say..."

"Ah, so I found a way to tie your tongue, did I?" Another chuckle from the eagle. "Just say what you feel, I think...there's no pressure here, I just want to hear about you. All I truly know of you is what I've seen and what rumors others have told me, and I hardly dare to trust them without your confirmation."

"Mmph...I'm not so sure you really do want to hear about me. You might not like it."

"To that I say, try me."

Vincent sighed; regaling people about his past was not something he enjoyed that much, heck, he didn't like hearing about it himself. But he could sense that he wasn't going to get out of it...Miguel could be quite persistent. "Erm...well, it's...I wasn't exactly the, uh...dammit. Look, I was kind of a total asshole when I was younger. It's...well, I had like four older siblings, and parents that were...okay, they never hit me, but...I was an...I was...unexpected. They didn't really want to have to raise another kid...and it was kind of evident with how they were with me. The siblings didn't help, either, I got so much teasing and worse...and I didn't really have many allies there, no one to help offset that."

"I know how that is. Big families are not uncommon in Mexico...I am second of four myself. It's hard, there's not always enough attention to go around."

"Yeah, and when they didn't want to give it to me...I acted out a lot. Got into trouble...it was the only way they'd actually focus on me. I just felt so isolated from them...from my own family, I needed to change it, even if it was all bad attention. That kept me getting worse and worse as time went on...and I'll bet you can imagine what kind of student I was in school."

Miguel grinned. "The kind who spent more time in detention than on homework?"

"I kind of wish it wasn't that obvious. You could've...well, at least hesitated for a second."

"Like knows like. I wasn't the same kind of troublemaker, perhaps, but, well, you can probably guess that I was a smart-mouth. The teachers, they didn't appreciate my humor, but I had a rather crappy schooling, so I wasn't much interested in learning there. I mostly read books to learn, and tuned out the droning."

"I think my teacher's would've wished I was just a wiseass. I was mean, ornery, straight up bullying others and getting into fights, pulled stunts that got me suspended, pushed at least one teacher into early retirement. And that was before high school. My first year of that was so bad, I I almost got kicked out...then the coach of the fighting team got involved."

"He saw potential, did he?"

"I don't know about potential...I do know he saw a nasty little motherfucker who was more than happy to smack talk and throw punches at guys twice his size. He told the school he could whip me into shape, and they decided they had nothing to lose. And boy, did he ever...I thought I was a hardass, but he showed me what a real hardass was like. And the other guys on the team, they didn't go any easier on me just because I was young and new. You can only get your ass handed to you so many times before you realize that you're not hot stuff...it kinda woke me up that I was gonna get fucked in life if I didn't shape up. And that's when I found out that just because coach was a hardass didn't mean he didn't care. He taught me how to channel all the anger I had into the right things, and get a hold of myself in the rest of my life. I'd probably be dead in a ditch somewhere if not for him...as it is, I'm doing something I enjoy and my life's reasonably on track. Still don't have a good relationship with my family, though, they kinda think I'm barbaric for wanting to make a living off of combat sports."

"Well, they are allowed their opinions, I suppose. My family, they do not care so much, they wanted me to be happy and to find a future in something...they were just happy that I had a chance to come to a richer country where I could be better off than stuck in a crap heap like they are. I hope to bring them here someday, but I have to get a lot better first."

"Yeah, well...you're not that far off, really."

"Oh ho, what's this? Vincent Petrone has a compliment for the birdy?"

Vincent snorted in amusement. "Don't make me take it back. But seriously, you're not that bad...more than anything, you're plucky, there's a lot of guys that are good with technique but get caught up in it, they can't adapt and panic when they're out of rhythm. That was always my saving grace...the thing I heard from my opponents more than anything was that I never got thrown off, they couldn't rattle me like they could other guys. Which kinda throws them off, and gives me an opening. Still...that's only gonna take me so far. I really need to get better at my own skill."

"I'm sure you will. You have dedicated yourself to this, and I find myself often falling behind...I believe, though, that I have gained more against you and the others in the gym in the past year than in the years in Mexico. They are much more raw, they have power and speed but less training...I thought that that was all it was for a long time, only here have a truly learned about the importance of technique. It's an area I need to grow as well."

"I guess I'll just have to keep working so that I can keep ahead of you."

"And I'll have to work harder so I can beat you at some point."

"Heh, I'll do my best not to let that happen."

"I'd expect no less, amigo."

---

It had been a hell of a dinner. In fact, Vincent would have gone as far as to say it was an outright date. At least, it seemed close enough to one for him, he'd never been on one before but it sure seemed like this was what one was like. And perhaps that had been Miguel's intention all along, the entire reason for the bet in the first place, an excuse to get alone with Vincent in another setting.

For once, he didn't mind being slightly misled. He wasn't sure he would've accepted the invitation any other way, and he would've been missing out.

But things didn't end at the restaurant. Both of them felt the spark, it wasn't going away, it was only building over the course of the dinner as the two of them talked and learned more about each other, and they were hardly out of the restaurant before Miguel had turned to Vincent and suggested they go back to his place. Vincent couldn't have agreed quickly enough.

The eagle's pad was larger than he expected, a decently-sized apartment with three rather sizable rooms. It was bigger than Vincent's apartment for sure, and he thought he had a pretty good deal. "Jeez...how much do you have to pay for this?"

"Not as much as you might think," Miguel replied casually. "I looked around a long time for a good deal, for myself and my comrades. This place had lower prices, although it is in a less friendly neighborhood and has some management issues. But I am willing to put up with it for what I get."

"Huh...I might have to give that a couple of thoughts myself, I wouldn't mind a larger living space if the price is right."

"It's also nice because the bedroom is quite large, which means room for a nice large bed." Miguel grinned a bit as he brought Vincent into the bedroom, showing the queen-sized bed that was a bit on the messy side, unkempt and unmade. "Perfect for fun, if you know what I mean...I haven't had enough opportunities for that lately, so I'm eager to make up for that."

"Oh, is that so? Well, perhaps I can help out with that."

"I certainly hope so, otherwise bringing you here was a waste of time." Vincent stuck out his tongue as Miguel snickered. "But yes, I imagine you can help out quite a lot...how about we get to it, then? I'm sure you're just as eager as I am to get things started..."

"Too true." Vincent hadn't exactly had a lot of sex recently himself, more because he'd been putting in extra training than anything, but also because he'd gotten leery of some of the places he'd usually gone to for one-night stands. Plus, he was getting kind tired of weak, flabby guys that didn't care for themselves a bit; they had been good enough for getting his rocks of when he was just getting into sexual activity, but now he'd become a bit more discriminating. He'd already seen more than enough of Miguel to know he'd be more the type that suited his tastes. "So show me what you're packing, birdy, and I'll show you mine."

The clothes came flying off rather quickly at that; neither one of them wanted to waste time with a striptease this time around, it had been long enough and they were both ready for a romp. Vincent beat Miguel to it by a bit, thanks to his more casual wear that was easier to get off, and he was able to watch as Miguel discarded the last of his garments...Miguel and he were built very similarly, lithe and well-toned, with only minor differences between them, such as Vincent being slightly taller and Miguel being just a bit bulkier. The eagle's black plumage had a nice sheen to it, it was clear he kept himself decently groomed despite his rough occupation...it had to be more work than Vincent's scales, which needed little care.

"Getting the first look, are you? A bit unfair, I think..." Miguel finally cast off the rest of his clothing and stood in front of Vincent, a gleam in his eye. "How about we have a little...wrestling match, to see who gets first dibs?"

Vincent grinned. "Fine by me...just hope you're ready to bend over early."

"Don't think I'll go down easy just because you beat me before." He grabbed Vincent and pulled him down onto the bed, the two struggling for position, their bodies rubbing and grinding against each other. It was proving to be effective foreplay, both of them getting hard and emerging from their hidden passages, their cocks slick and ready to be used, almost an even match in size and shape. The grappling wasn't nearly as fierce or serious as their earlier match, but in their minds it was still important, their competitive spirits fueling their lusts and making the eventual payoff even better.

But after a bit of this, Vincent felt something come over him. A pleasurable tingling coming through him as he felt the grip of the eagle, the force of his body...he felt himself wanting to feel it more and more, in a way that he couldn't wait for. It wasn't long before he found himself at a disadvantage, underneath the eagle and struggling to keep from being completely locked in...except part of him didn't want to, he wanted Miguel to have his crack at him first. For the first time he could ever remember, he let his opponent win; he went mostly slack, letting Miguel pin him down and take control of him.

The eagle grinned down at him, giving him a nice rub along his cock with his own. "I guess I get to go first, then."

"I guess so," Vincent replied, trying to sound casual about it but unable to hide the eagerness in his voice. He spread his legs, inviting the eagle to claim his tailhole. "Don't you dare take it easy on me."

"Oh, I'll make you scream my name, lizard." Miguel's grip tightened on him, and with a single thrust buried his cock inside Vincent. The raptor let out a hiss and threw his head back as he felt himself get spread out for the first time in a long time. It was a little bit tight and tense due to the lack of time since his last encounter, but he adjusted rapidly, and the slight bit of pain that came at the start only lit his body up and made it feel even better. Above him, Miguel let out a breathy moan, a shudder passing through him as his cock was enveloped in tight warmth for the first time in far too long. He held himself there briefly, just trying to get the pleasure under control before his leg muscles started cooperating again...then the ride was truly to start.

His hands were latched down onto Vincent's upper arms, his legs resting on and keeping spread the raptor's own. He started bucking in forcefully, trying to maintain the sense of physical control as fiercely as he could, letting that bolster his lust and arousal to every degree. He was just as hard as Vincent demanded, pounding him without restraint, his cock squelching in and spitting precum inside to ease its passage and let him speed up. For Miguel, it was already a bit of a novelty, his past partners rarely wanted something this hard and he had always held back, but Vincent seemed more than happy to take all he could give, and he was finding it much more to his liking.

And Vincent was in his own brand of heaven, taking it just as he wanted; he tended to have more of a preference for being on top, but when he was bottoming, he wanted it to feel like they were taking something out on him, making it ache and working him hard, making him feel like they had to put in a lot of effort to get this edge over him. Pants and quiet, harsh cries escaped him, his fingers gripping the bed and nearly tearing through the covers, pushing up just a little bit every time that dick sank into him, it was a rush of the best kind, even better than the rush he got from the match. Definitely, his concession to Miguel was paying off, and even his pride wasn't about to complain about it.

The energy slowly built, Miguel getting slowly faster and harder, his breaths coming just as quickly as he put his all into it. It paid off, as he heard Vincent let out a louder cry when he nailed his pleasure button just right, making the raptor jerk in his grip. Now he kept driving in at just that sweet angle, giving everything he could to forcing Vincent's climax out of him before he was forced to give in himself...it didn't take too long, he felt the reptile tense underneath him and saw his head lean back almost too far as he launched into the throes of his orgasm. "Fuck! Miguel!"

Just in time, too, as all that clenching did Miguel in. He let out a long grunt of his own as he started pumping his load into Vincent, spraying his insides even as the raptor's cock was squirting onto his own feathers. He was definitely putting out a healthy load, shooting hard and thick into the air and catching Miguel with what didn't splatter down onto himself. A long hiss rang from Vincent's mouth as he felt the liquid heat inside him, pulsing deep and soothing the need to be taken, at least for the time being. As his orgasm faded, he felt himself become relaxed, eased...loosened up in more ways than one, the perfect afterglow sensation.

Miguel soon plopped down on top of him, smearing Vincent's cum against their bodies as the two of them panted, resting up and recovering their energies. It was nice for each of them, just the feel of someone so close to them...for two that rarely let others have such contact, it was a better feeling than either of them expected, perhaps more needed than they ever would have let on. There were no sounds between them other than their heaving breaths, which slowly came down over the minutes.

Finally, Miguel pulled out of Vincent and pulled himself off of the raptor, grinning almost deliriously at the sight of his partner. "Ah...that felt almost too good. Heh, I made you scream my name just like I said, didn't I?"

"Heh...you didn't make me, I wanted to," Vincent shot back, pushing himself into a sitting position. "But yeah, that felt damn good...haven't been nailed so well by nearly anyone, you really did it right. Good thing, too, you wouldn't have gotten another crack at my ass if you hadn't."

"Hah, I'm glad I satisfied you properly then. But, I think it's your turn now...unless you're too tired for another round?"

"Hah, what do you take me for? I'll give you a ride you'll never forget."

"Hopefully because you'll give it to me over and over. But I'll be holding you to it." Miguel turned around and dropped down on all fours, raising his rear towards the raptor and smirking back at him. Vincent's cock swelled back into full hardness again, and his breathing quickened as his lust picked back up; the sight of Miguel on all fours, beckoning to him, was simply delicious. "Looks like you're ready...good, come and paint my tail feathers with your seed, Vincent."

Vincent needed no further incentive; he hopped to action, pouncing on Miguel and taking firm hold of his hands, his body bent over the eagle and a vicious grin on his face. There was only a moment of anticipation as he lined his cock up at that tight hole, and then he plunged in, forcing himself deep into him as mercilessly as Miguel had taken him before. A pair of cries rang out as a new round of pleasure engulfed them both, Vincent's grip tightening on his lover as he felt the tightness around his dick and Miguel's body tensing up at his first claiming in a long time.

Once again, hard and fast was the name of the game, Miguel taking it as readily as Vincent had, pounding and squelching ringing loudly through the room as they rut. The raptor's grunts and snarls came harder than before, sounding almost like a feral beast as he humped away. No doubt about it, Miguel was a much better fuck than any of his previous partners; none of them would have let him go like this, and restraint wasn't conducive to his own lust. Holding back was something he did for everyone else's sake, not his own...it was so much better to let go, especially on someone he knew could take it.

And it was the pounding of a lifetime for Miguel, who had very little experience on this end of things. He hadn't really enjoyed what few rounds he'd had bottoming for another male, but Vincent was making it come alive, setting his whole body buzzing with pleasure. Begging moans escaping his beak, and he kept clamping down involuntarily on that intruder as his prostate was bashed, reflex maximizing the pleasure for both of them. It felt nearly as good without having to exert as much energy of his own...he'd waited far too long to get the raptor in bed with him, he knew he'd be trying to make up for it.

Despite having just released, both of them were soon on the edge again, youthful vigor and fitness aiding them in their quest for re-release. Miguel's passage soon became very slick, allowing Vincent into him at the raptor's will, and he shifted his angle angle higher as his legs stretched, nailing more downwards and driving himself into Miguel's body hard enough to make his limbs quake underneath him. All to break him, at least in one way: Miguel had made him yell his name, he wanted to return the favor.

"Ah! Vincent!"

Success. The breathless cry just preceded Miguel's orgasm, his talons digging into the sheets as he let his load go onto the fabric, streaks of white staining the blue and soaking in rapidly. Now it wasn't all reflex that made Miguel tense his ass around Vincent's plunging cock, he wanted to tighten up as much as possible to get the raptor off...it was only seconds before that Vincent could hold out, and with a primal cry he let loose, round after around of his semen pulsing into that waiting passage, squirting deep into Miguel and sating his need. He stayed rigid for several seconds as he unloaded, making sure he got his essence nice and deep into the eagle before pulling out, letting the last few shots fall onto the bird's ass, getting his feathers nice and messy.

Finally, the two of them fell over in exhaustion, Vincent still holding Miguel in a grip as they panted on the bed. Slowly he released him and pushed himself up, staring at Miguel in satisfaction. "Yeah...that was perfect. You take dick like a champ, too bad you're not a pure bottom."

"You'd get tired of not getting any yourself, and you know it." Miguel turned over and smirked wearily at him. "But I'll admit...you gave me a new appreciation for it. Too many tentative guys out there, I'm glad you're not one of them."

"Heh, you were pretty good yourself. It's nice to have a guy who doesn't hold back, like me. I needed that so bad..."

"Good to hear. I hope you don't mind a bit of cuddling afterwards, though, I enjoy being in the arms of another. Perhaps you can call me a softie, but I don't mind."

"Well, hell, I don't usually get cuddlers, but I'm game." The two of them shifted to properly align with the bed, heads on the pillows and facing each other, wrapping each other in their arms. It was not a familiar position for Vincent, but he found it oddly enjoyable...he felt so relaxed after the romps, not pent up like he usually did, and being close to another person was actually relieving in that context. "Mmm...I see why you enjoy it."

"Good, good...because I'm hoping to get a lot more chances to do this with you."

"Heh, I think you'll get them, so long as you don't go back to being cocky."

"No chance of that, amante."