A/N: Thanks loads to those reading, and especially for the feedback - good or bad, it always helps to hear what people are thinking! :)
Eight
The atmosphere was electric.
The crowd baying for blood over the thud of gloved fists on flesh and pumping music in between rounds. Cat calls ringing out for the scantily clad Red Woody stars moonlighting as ring girls. Cheers sent up for the victors, even as those defeated crumpled to the mat.
"Ready, boys?" Chibs hollered, grabbing Happy by the shoulders and giving him a little shake, while Tig slapped him on the back. For the first time in a long time, with his cut on his back and the memory of a beautiful woman in his bed, he felt like he could walk tall with a weight off his shoulders. "For the honour o' Samcro … And a shit-load o' cold, hard cash!"
They'd cleaned up so far, both betting and running their own book on the fights so far, and now they were all throwing their support firmly behind their brother in what looked like proving one of the main events of the night. For an amateur set-up, Seth sure had put on a helluva show.
"Hey, your guy's up next …"
Turning on his heel at the familiar voice, a little smile tugged at the corner of Chibs' mouth. It wasn't like him to be on the back foot, so to speak, but he found himself wondering how she expected him to be with her. "Hey, darlin'," he said, with what he hoped was an ease he didn't really feel.
"Hey, yourself," Eden said, stood there in the doorway of what was usually one of the gym's two treatment rooms out the back and which the Sons had been allocated as a locker room of sorts. Dressed in dark green coveralls that proved to have medic printed on the back in white when she slipped past them, she was clearly firmly in work mode, confirmed when she nodded towards the cupboards. "Just need to stock up on supplies."
"Busy night?" Chibs asked, conscious of his smirking brothers watching their exchange. And of his own mind seemingly hellbent on replaying the night they had spent together, even though there was a fair chance it was going to send his blood rushing below his waist.
"Filip …"
Her soft moans only spurred him on, thrusting deeper as her legs wrapped around his hips, a hand in her hair, and everything he wanted to do to her pouring in her ear between thickly accented curses.
She was still in his t-shirt and, sexy as that undeniably was, he wanted to revel in every inch of just her.
He shifted them easily, grinning up at her as she ended up on top of him. "Looks like I'm gonna need that back, darlin'," he growled, his hands already pushing the loose t-shirt up over her thighs before lifting it up, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. "Fuckin' beautiful …"
She flushed, but it could have been under the heat of his gaze as it flickered from her bare breasts to her face or just from his cock still buried inside her, his hips rocking firmly upwards and dragging a helpless groan from her already kiss-bruised lips. "Oh, Filip …"
"Filip?"
Pulled from his inadvertent reverie, Chibs looked at her almost blankly. "Huh?"
"I said good luck out there," Eden repeated. "For Happy."
"Oh, for Happy," he nodded, still somewhat distracted. "Right …"
They were on their way to the ring when the first sign of trouble reared its head.
Playing to the whoops and hollers of their brothers and extended club family, they strode through the parting crowd – Happy, his hood up and an intense focus in his dark eyes, at the front, just behind Tig as he cleared a path for their team and followed by Bug and Charlie. Chibs himself was bringing up the rear, at least until he spotted the cut on the guy who stepped in their way and alarm bells started ringing loud and clear.
"If we're gonna have a problem, this ain't the time or the place," he warned, shouldering his way to the front and laying a warning hand on Tig's chest. "We're all just here to enjoy a night at the boxing. Ain't that right?"
"Yeah, we heard you boys had gone soft," came the cool response. "Figured there was a gap in the market."
"A gap …" Chibs snorted, as he trailed off, already bored of the conversation. "This goin' somewhere, pal? 'Cause we've got a fight to win here."
"I wouldn't bet on it. Literally. I heard one of you bitches turned pussy and pulled out already. Maybe this guy should do the same."
"Who the fuck you calling a pussy?" Happy snarled, having to be held back by the others as Chibs stepped firmly between him and their new unwelcome acquaintance, conscious of the other bikers who stepped up behind their apparent vice president.
"If I was you, I'd run along home, VP," the angry Scotsman hissed, jabbing a hard finger at the patch on the younger man's cut. The leather looked new, especially compared with the well-aged, road-worn cuts of the Sons. "Before you find out just how out o' yer depth you really are."
"Get your hand off me, old man," the biker snapped, sizing Chibs up as the Scot squared up to him, bristling over the blatant disrespect. "Oh, you wanna fucking go? Well, let's go!"
"Is this asshole serious?" Tig demanded, the tell-tale grin on his face a sure sign of trouble. "Tell me he's serious. It's funnier if he's serious."
"All mouth now, boys – too bad you're too chicken to face us in the ring. Come on, tell us, who pussied out?"
Suddenly furious to see Charlie's head drop guiltily, Chibs' jaw tightened dangerously. "You want a fuckin' fight? Fine, you got it."
"You need me to handle this, brother?" Tig spoke up eagerly, already cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
"Nah, you go tell Seth he's got another Samcro bout on the bill after all," Chibs said, his gaze never leaving the smirking face of their apparent rival biker. "I got this."
"Representing the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club and fighting out of your host gym, the Scrapyard, Filip 'Chibs' Telford!" the announcer bellowed.
Eden's head shot up startled, having been expecting Happy's fight to go ahead next and wondering what the hold up was. Chibs hadn't been on the list of competitors and he hadn't mentioned anything about planning to replace Charlie.
"Representing the War Boys Motorcycle Club and fighting out of McGreary's Boxing Gym, Archie Vane!"
The announcer was no Michael Buffer, but he was giving it a good go and the crowd was definitely fired up for this one, packed as it was with bikers and their hangers-on. Eden felt a little shiver go down her spine and she stepped up closer to the edge of the ring, hoping her services wouldn't be required. She could only imagine that the president of the Sons knew how to handle himself and his scars certainly spoke of a tough life – still, the power behind the first punch thrown made her inhale sharply. Fuck.
She'd grown up around boxing. Her dad had been a two-weight champion back in his day. Seth had enjoyed plenty of success before an injury had put paid to his own career and he'd turned his focus to the coaching and fitness side of things. Her medical training made her even more aware than most of the risks, but she had to admit, she did enjoy the buzz. It had been a while since she'd seen a fight with an edge like this though.
She flinched as Chibs took a brutal blow to the kidneys, half expecting him to lose control and simply head-butt his opponent, such was the ferocity of their encounter.
"Come on, Pres," she could hear Tig yell. "Kick that fucker's ass!"
The cut she had stitched so carefully was bleeding again. Not enough for the ref to stop the fight, but enough for her to notice. Her fists had clenched without her realising and she silently willed him on, trying to keep anything other than professional concern off her face.
Chibs landed a brain-rattling right hook and then another, sending his younger opponent reeling, and it was all Eden could do to keep from cheering. The deliberate blow to the back of his head when the two fighters came together in the centre of the ring did draw a shout from her though and she wasn't alone. The referee forced the pair apart and warned the culprit sternly, but it appeared he had no intention of fighting fair any more.
The blatant trip sent Chibs crashing to the mat, only for him to clamber back up, gesturing furiously. His opponent lunged at him, swinging haymakers, but the Scot side-stepped and then caught him with an uppercut that made the crowd gasp.
"That's it - finish him!" Tig roared, now up on the ropes in the Samcro corner.
And, breathing heavily, Chibs did.
The War Boys VP may have had youth on his side, relatively speaking, but it turned out to be no match for the raw aggression that had gotten Chibs through many a street fight in Glasgow and in Belfast.
Added to his greater experience, in the ring and out of it, the Scotsman had actually inadvertently ended up in probably the best shape of his life. Throwing himself into working with Charlie and some of the others to keep out the demons in his head, and regularly beating the shit out of a punch-bag to stop himself taking his fists to the walls had seen him drop the gut that middle-aged spread and heavy drinking had allowed to cultivate. He'd taken on a leaner, harder shape usually reserved for serving hard time with nothing to do but work out to alleviate the boredom and stay sharp to threats from other inmates or even guards.
He guessed he had well over 10 years on his opponent and, sure, he was tiring, but he still knew he could take him. In fact, if it hadn't been for his respect for Seth and not wanting to turn his big night into a blood bath, he'd already have put the asshole down.
As it was, he rallied for a final flurry of hard body shots, further weakening the already struggling younger man. There was blood trickling into his own eye, and he briefly rued the ruination of Eden's handiwork – although he wasn't opposed to the prospect of spending more time with her to get patched back up again …
His blood was already pumping and the thought of her only urged him on. He could hear the hollers of his brothers too and even a voice he could have sworn was Lyla screaming her support.
He staggered under a twinge in his knee and caught a hard fist in the face, but he hit back immediately and relished the audible crunch of nose cartilage crumpling under his glove. The little shite would think twice about his cockiness now.
"Motherfucker!" came the anguished howl. "You broke my fucking nose!"
"Next time, it'll be yer legs," Chibs hissed, before delivering what was to be the final blow and sending his opponent crashing to the mat with his eyes rolling back in his head.
The place erupted in cheers and the Sons watching from ringside burst through the ropes to gleefully sweep him into back-slapping hugs and raise his fists in victory.
"Chibs!" Lyla shrieked up at him, elbowing her way to the front of the crowd and blowing him a kiss. "You were amazing, but what the hell happened? Why are you even in there?"
"Long story, darlin'," he yelled back. "I'll catch ya at the after-party – gotta get cleaned up …"
Watching as Chibs delivered the knockout blow, Eden smothered a smile and tried to turn her attention to work, lifting her bag and leaving the downed fighter to the medic from the rival gym he apparently fought at – instead heading back to the room the Sons had been using before the fight. The Scot looked like he'd need stitches again, so she might as well go ahead and get set up …
She looked up when the door opened, not surprised to find him stood there, although a little thrown by the intense look on his face.
"You need me?" she asked lightly, only realising how that sounded when obvious lust flared in his eyes.
He didn't give her a chance to clarify. "Aye, lass, I reckon I do," he growled.
He crossed the room before her mind had time to play catch-up, his mouth already on hers in a deep, almost desperate kiss, as she found herself propelled backwards until she slammed up against the wall with a whimper that definitely wasn't a complaint. His strong hands roamed freely over her body, before wrenching open the poppers of her medic's coveralls. Knowing how hot the gym would get packed with so many people, she hadn't bothered with anything underneath apart from her plain black bra and matching boy shorts. Chibs' appreciation for that fact was all too plain.
Hot kisses trailed down her throat to her collarbone, one hand filling itself with the firm swell of her breast and the other fumbling to free his already straining cock. The groan that escaped him when he was finally inside her seemed to come straight from his gut.
"Fuck," he ground out, feeling her hands grip his shoulders tightly as he thrust hard into her tight heat.
His muffled grunts and her breathless moans turned into ragged chuckles, when he moved to boost her up, only to find the tangles of their clothes – still half-dressed as they were - were stopping her wrapping her legs around him.
"Shit, sorry, darlin'," Chibs managed to laugh, resting his head against hers in their moment's enforced pause. "Guess I kinda jumped the gun here …"
"You definitely jumped something …" Eden murmured wryly, her fingertips gently stroking the scruff of his beard as they both got their breath back, the initial urgency of their encounter slipping away. Every last bit of desire was still there though and she caught her lower lip between her teeth when his hips rocked slowly against hers again.
Chibs' hands slid down her arms, his fingers curling around hers and then pinning her hands to the wall by her head, keeping up that same torturous pace he had slowed to as he kissed her.
"Hey, Eden, have you seen—Oh, fucking hell! I … shit … sorry!"
The biker and the medic in his arms both froze, one mildly put out by the interruption and the other wide-eyed with horror at the realisation of what had happened, and the door that had been thrown open slammed abruptly shut again.
"Was that …?"
"Seth," Eden groaned, her head dropping onto Chibs' shoulder in dismay.
"Well, that's a mood killer."
