Unspoken - a Boxing Story
The glow of the lights didn't seem so bright anymore. After spending all that time in them, they seemed to dim and become almost natural lighting for the arena. As flourescent as it was, the heat couldn't be ignored. Maybe it wasn't even the light creating the warmth; maybe it was adrenaline, blood rushing to the head, coursing through bulged veins as combatants wait for the bell. And through the light, neither of the two could see the action-thirsty fans in their own dull blue glow that ran staggered over the stands. Nor could they hear their restless murmur, ears focused on just their cornermen's last encouragements, and the non-sound of the silent bell, a non-sound to be ended by the shrill clang of metal against metal.
Each had names, as well as reputations that may or may not have preceded them, depending on their company. To their present company, they weren't millionaires -- yet, their agents would assure you -- but they weren't nobodies. In fact, the only two present that were unaware of any names or reputations were the ones that owned them. A fox stared at some rabbit, a rabbit stared at everyfox. The only difference was that, for some reason, they wanted to knock each other down. If there was a belt involved, they wouldn't have known if you asked them. Their shorts had elastic waists; they had no need for belts.
Thirty seconds in and a glove had already touched fur. An amateur mistake brought the fox in too close to the rabbit's deceptive range. An easy jab went unguarded and forced the fox to step backward, on the defensive. The rabbit tried to capitalize on this mistake as much as possible, gloves creating perceived tap-tapping noises as they push-shoved the guard of the vulpine fighter around, though the tight defense and good footwork put the advantage at neutral after only one more shot, to the ribs, was scored on him.
Some corner shouted something. Three judges marked with a pen on a scorecard.
The match reduced to a dance, distant jabs that never had a chance to connect flung half-heartedly out at arm's length, gloved paws meeting air alone. A full minute passed without so much as an inch of progress in either direction. The murmuring of the crowd grew louder, the building anticipation subdued by the frustration at a lack of action.
Finally, the combatants responded. The rabbit was on the attack once again, striking another blow to the same spot on his opponent's ribs. A weakness in the guard, perhaps, is what the lapine was looking for. After a few dancing moments, he tried that same spot again, and another score. The fox took an extra step to the side, trying to get the rabbit away from him for a moment, but the attacker followed. As the fox's guard adjusted, the rabbit's glove slipped past again, this time with an overhand punch that the fox barely was able to lower his forehead into. The guard was changed again, and the rabbit slipped another glove just beneath the elbow into the fox's ribs again. The sight of a wince on the fox's face after the last connection was akin to pouring chum to stir up the attention of a prowling shark.
Frankly, the fox had no idea how to respond. Everywhere his gloves were, the rabbit's were where they should have been. Stinging punches rained on his body and face, and though he gave into and rolled away from punches like he should have, he had to do something to retaliate, or he'd be done. Fluid motions marked a surprisingly jagged counter. A retreating foot planted on the mat, and the fox's arm rocketed through the flurry from his opponent and landed a shot straight on into the rabbit's nose. The lapine's head rocked back, and he was forced to backpedal from the momentum and in defense. Instincts that may have paid off went rewardless as the bell to end the round finally rang.
It barely felt like the round had ended before it started again. The fox was lucky; that last shot kept the rabbit's confidence down going in, and instead of the inevitable rush that might have happened, a subdued approach kept him just outside striking distance. He could see a small trickle of blood coming from the lapine's nostrils, and somehow kept a smirk from forming.
The rabbit was lucky, too; his arms were getting tired toward the end of the round and he wouldn't have been able to keep up an all out offensive like that. With the fox staying outside of range, the lapine just hovered his paws in a loose guard, letting their attached arms rest. Keeping his eyes on his opponent, he was able to notice the stalling time making the fox drift into his old ways, and he, too, could barely hold back his lips from creasing upward.
When the rabbit went to exploit the opening, he rammed his fist right into the fox's side. It was too easy, and rightfully so, as the fox brought his own paw down into the rabbit's cheek in a hard overhand, the long-eared fighter unable to block with his arm extended from the punch. Stars flew. The rabbit lost touch just long enough for his guard to weaken, and it was the vulpine's turn. Letting loose with hook after jab, the gloved paws rocked the lapine's head and body as he exploited his superior strength over the lankier, but smaller opponent.
The fox found an opening, and took it. His uppercut lifted the rabbit up, setting him up for an ear-ringing haymaker straight to the chin. Balance was lost on the rabbit, and his knees wobbled as he fell backward, sprawled on the canvas. The crowd was on its feet, almost drowning out the referee's counting.
Alarm was fevered in his corner as the count was to three, and the rabbit had just gotten to supporting himself on his elbows. He could feel his left eye swelling up slightly, but the other one was wide open looking at the fox, stunned. Bruises were obviously forming on his ribs. He'd just gotten pulled right into the fox's counterattack, and paid dearly for it. At the seven count he was using a rope to lift himself up, and was upright, and visibly shaken, at the eight. The ref asked him if he was okay, and received a nod.
The fox stood in his neutral corner in waiting, observing the rabbit's fortitude. The impression this caused on nearly everyone present was lost on the fox, as this simply became one more turn of trying to best his opponent. The look on his face was unchanged since the beginning-- underestimation would not be a factor for him. When the ref signalled to continue, the vulpine turned aggressive once more.
It only took him three blocked lefts before he noticed the gentle swelling on the rabbit's left side of his face. Backing off of a jab meant to fend the fox off and buy time, the fox swung his fist underhanded in a hook to the rabbit's ribs. He was right-- the lapine's vision was limited by the swelling. The guard was too slow, and nearly the full force of the punch collided with the rabbit's side. He winced, the fox stood back, on guard for a potential counter.
It never came. The fox threw a few more left jabs, then powered through with a harder right hook, more dedicated strength put into this blow, and it paid off, the rabbit letting out a telltale grunt of pain as his abused body took more damage. This continued for a while, and the fox found he could direct the hurting rabbit around the ring. Sacrificing some of his defense and taking a jab here and there, the vulpine powered his opponent near a corner, and threw another forceful hook to the side. Just as he'd expected the rabbit moved with the punch, putting him against the ropes. Following it up with a surprise second hook, the rabbit backed up and, feeling his back to the turnbuckle, hunkered over, covering up.
The fox knew what he had here. It wasn't the first time he'd cornered an opponent. Immediately a full offensive went to hammering into the rabbit's guard, powerful strokes with feet planted and hips swinging with them pummeling the rabbit back into the corner.
The lapine curled as best as he could, arms covering his head as he tried to wait out the punishment. He couldn't muscle his way out; he tried to reach forward in a clinch and it resulted in a hammering blow to his solar plexus. The crowd wouldn't go quiet, the rabbit's ears pierced by the shrill screams and hollers from behind him. He leaned forward again, trying to wrap the fox up in a clinch once more, but got pelted right in the jaw, and covered his head once again. Guard too high, the rabbit took three quick, undefended shots to the lower ribs, making his nerves sing in agony before he gave and protected his sides, immediately taking a hook across his left cheek, sending him to the mat for the second time in the round. His face rubbed against the canvas, and his arm reached out for the rope, forearm pushing down as he didn't wait to try and get back up this time.
The fox waited once again in his corner, arms dangling at his sides. Watching the rabbit, his footpaws began to step in place. The referee's count showed six, and the rabbit hadn't made any progress. One paw on the canvas, one paw on the middle rope, both knees touching the mat, his adversary struggled to find the strength to stand. The rabbit's head lifted, and the fox locked eyes with him for a moment. Defeat streaked across the lapine's features, the swollen eye reddened, the opposite brow bearing a small gash across it, red blood leaking slowly down to stain white fur. Resignation adorned his demeanor, the lapine's ears tilted back to his slowly dipping head, allowing the count to reach ten.
The rabbit was quite alone. Water splattered from the showerhead to the floor, the cold, hard tiles pressed up against his back soothing to what felt like the only part of his body that didn't ache. "Unnnh..." A groan passed through his vocals, as he slid down the wall, finally slumping with an unceremonious thump to the floor, legs spread out, the lower part of his right one the only part under the cascade of the shower. His matted, wet fur clung to him as he sprawled into a lower corner of the shower room, head back against the wall as well as he closed his eyes.
He thought about his paycheck. He'd have to pick it up in the morning from his agent before his wife bothered him too much about it. He thought about her, too. She hated that he did this to himself, but that's why he was always doing it. He wanted to get better, wanted to not have to do this to himself, but do this for himself. He was doing it for her, too, but he knew she'd never understand that. He thought about his kid, too. A son that was proud of his dad and a dad that was proud of his son. The microcosm of their household didn't sway much from the norm, but he had a good thing going.
For how long he sat there, he was unsure. But he knew he'd better get started. A shaky arm supported his weight as he lifted himself up onto shaky legs. The water hit his face, and despite the initial sting, the rabbit let it course through his fur, streaking down his body to drench him. Reaching out blindly, he found the soap on the small ledge under the showerhead. Gripping it softly, he squeezed some of the body wash into his paw and lathered it into his chest, slowly moving it around his torso, tenderly scrubbing and massaging his sore muscles and against bruised bones. Tender touches still jolted him, and he heard himself sighing on more than one occasion, hiked breath held until the pain subsided.
Little by little, he washed and tended to his whole body. His paws halted around the spot he'd saved for last. Soap slowly dripped from the open bottle, trickling down from his abs down the side of his sheath, the small river of fluid still slightly chilled as it flowed against his fur, the rounded end leaking down to his pouch, where the paw not holding the bottle began to rub and lather the body wash again into his fur, another quiet groan ekeing out of his voice, though for a different reason. The bottle of soap clattered to the floor as the paw that had been holding it massaged his sheath and pumped it, working the shampoo into his fur.
Just about the time the soap clamored against the tile floor, a second gym bag did as well. The vulpine ran his paws through his headfur, gripping at it and sighing out as he tilted his head back to stare into the light. He was tired, and a little sore, too, but not as much as he was pleased. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if the rabbit was gonna stick around with the state he'd left him in, but it turned out he was good on his word. As the fox discarded his boxing trunks and underwear, he stepped into the shower room, watching from afar for the moment as the sculpted, perfect rabbit slowly stroked himself, his alert ears picking up indiscriminate murmurs. The corners of his muzzle curling up in a smile, he stepped as quietly as possible until he, too, was catching splatter from the showerhead.
When his paws touched the rabbit's chest from behind, he felt it expand in a gasp, before letting out a sigh. Without looking, the rabbit leaned backwards, and the paws that pull him in ever so gently start to take over for the rabbit's. "Hope you don't mind my forwardness..." The rabbit's ear was given a soft nibble as whispered, breathy words tickled the hairs on its inside. "But it looks like you started without me." The vulpine paws worked into the suds around the rabbit's crotch, feeling the firmness start to emerge from the soapy, wet, furry home of the lapine sheath.
Over time, this had just become understood among the fighters in this circle. Of course there were a good number that wouldn't accept this behavior, but enough would that it had become the rule rather than the exception. At the weigh-in, it became obvious what would happen after the match, but the match was the ultimate decider of who had the most say.
The fox was careful of the rabbit's sore body when he reached up with one of his paws to stroke over the furred chest, claws digging into a pec as he stroked the contour of it, following it to his nipple, which was captured between thumb and forefinger. The chest expanded in a gasp again, but possibly because the fox's swelling sheath pressed between the asscheeks of the rabbit, teasing the fur there in the crevice. One after the other, the fox worked the rabbit's nipples until they were peaked, standing out from the fur as it conforms to the soaked body.
Gentle thrusts of his hips created the friction enough to expand his maleness against the rump fur of his former opponent, and pushed the rabbit's own hips forward into the stroking, soap-slickened grip. Steamy shower water rose from the cold tile floor, filling the room and the two boxers' nostrils, the natural masculine musk of the fox mixing with the manufactured masculine scent of the body wash to drive the minds of both further into the moment.
The rabbit's paws grabbed gently at the fox's wrists, holding them without restriction as he felt them grope and caress his form, the pleasure brought by them eliciting gentle murmurs and small, near-silent moans of appreciation. Despite the nature of the sport that decided this outcome, the predatory urges were left in the ring, and the lapine found himself grateful for the consideration shown by the fox; tender touches that could have been vicious shoves slid over his aches and pains, the sensations adding to the subtly masochistic pleasure of submission to a defeater. "A little wider, bunny..." After all, he had a choice, but chose to let the fox make it for him. Heeding the request, his footpaws shifted on the hard floor of the shower to spread his legs, the motion placing a smooth, insistent surface up against his pucker.
Initial penetration was abrupt and brief. The fox sighed against the rabbit's ear fur as he felt warmth embrace his first inches, tongue extending to lap up along the edge of the long appendage, relishing in the tiny whimpers coming from the other boxer as he forced the rest of him inside, until fur pressed against fur once more. Small withdrawals and pushes were almost not thrusts at all, just enough to make the rabbit and fox feel the slight prod and clench that came with the subtle movements. Careful strokes of the rabbit's body fur evolved to a gentle, soothing massage of the lapine's shoulders, kneading his muscles there as he smoothly pistoned in and out from beneath the rabbit's tailspade.
The lapine's own paws went back to work on himself, giving a slow, firm, methodical grip to his shaft, gently pressing behind his balls as he melts at the fox's attentions. The support from the vulpine allowed him to lean back against him, fingertips on his taint reaching a bit further back to stroke the underside of the invading maleness just as it penetrated inward and withrew outward. The cascades of water on his back and on the fox's front met together in small splashes as the pace increased, the lapine's ears starting to twitch as his inner sweet spot was nudged and slid against. His stroking paw spread the slow leak of pre-cum over his manhood, but the water from the shower diluted and washed it away too soon for it to be used. Nonetheless, the rabbit's breath was soon brought to a pant, his paw on his rabbithood slowing down to make up for his rising pleasure.
A slight growl emanated from the fox's throat, a bite to the base of the rabbit's ear tightening in pulses as he ground his hips up against the hilted entrance of the rabbit with each thrust in. The massaging paws abandoned the shoulders and decided to take residence on the bunny's hip and chest, sure to be careful with the spots he knew would ache on the rabbit, his paws cradling in their positions, massaging the lapine's hip and letting his thumb and index finger tweak and stroke over the perked nipple. Responses from the other male were exquisite in their subtlety, the opening of his mouth yielding soft gasps and small shifts of his body back into the other one. Swivels of his hips to get new, albeit brief angles on the thrusting foxhood within him caused shuddering groans from the male behind him.
It was all he could do to keep his forming knot outside of the rabbit's pucker. Though it did nudge up against it a few times, he was able to restrain himself, though holding that back didn't help his approaching climax. After a few more shoves of his knot against the rabbit's star, he slowly pulled out to the tune of delicious gasps and a soft whine of a moan from the other man, and squeezed at the rabbit's nipple one more time before guiding him to turn around.
The eyes of the lapine showed the fox that they were in similar states once they locked with the fox's. Two sets of soft paws reached over to touch, stroke, and caress at the opposing body, two malenesses gripped and pumped, their tips bumping heads, a primitive mockery of the competition that set the stage for this more intimate contact. Water coursed down both bodies, the streams disrupted by the other, freely roaming paws, caressing fur and gripping, their owners' heads each tilted back into the falling water. A sharp intake of breath and a jerk of the hips forward by the fox marked his finish, and the rabbit took notice. His paw squeezed at the foxcock's knot, while his other moved down to stroke the rest of his manhood. With a series of pulsing twitches, the stiffened maleness fired spurts of creamy off-white into the pure white of the lapine's fur. Hot water rolled down over hotter cum, flowing around it and making it tumble down from its initial spot on his groin and abdomen. The coaxing never stopped, the rabbit holding that position and tactic until the fox stopped spasming, and instead focused his motions on an increased pace for the long-eared male's own pleasure.
White paws gripped into the fox's chestfur as he leaned back against the wall again, the paw milking at his rabbit length eliciting a flowing movement of his hips to act along with the stroking motions, water dripping down from his lowered head as his own breath picks up pace. Given the reactions he gave before, the fox was encouraged to use the paw not squeezing his shaft to toy with one of his nipples, to expected results-- the rabbit tilted his head against the wall and groaned aloud, the combination of attentions overloading him. It wasn't long before his own hardness twitched in the fox's paw, covering the vulpine's stomach and lower chest with the fruits of his release. The several jets emptied the lapine's tautly drawn orbs into the fur of the other man, his seed flowing lethargically down the fox's front, clinging around his sheath and softening member.
A few moments passed as they let the water course down over their naked forms as they gripped into each other's fur in an embrace. Eventually, the bottle of fur soap was put into use again as they worked it into each other, cleansing them of the results of their efforts. When finished, the fox pressed his nude form once more against the rabbit.
And then it was over. Water was turned off, the combatants separated, and nearly wordlessly they, one after the other, left the locker room to head home. There was no room for affection in boxing. It wasn't a secret that this happened, but it was unspoken nonetheless. Any disadvantage gained by emotional attachment was a step backward in a boxer's development. It wasn't considered wrong, nor was it considered right. Rarely was it even considered. It just was, and all it ever amounted to was a small glint of recognition on the subway, a nod at the bus stop, a knowing glance in the gym, or a wink at the weigh-in. This week was some newcomer rabbit versus a journeyman fox. If they had names, they'd already forgotten them.