A/N: Hi guys! This was always going to be in two parts. I couldn't think of a Mature scene at the time. After watching more Khabib's interviews this chapter was born. Hope you guys enjoy this!

Scrubbed clean, he's now pausing as his bath comes to an end. He instinctively pulls the plug out. It squeaks. "Shit" He mutters throwing a towel around his waist. He walks slowly to the door, drying most of himself off. He opens the door a creak, relaxing when he sees Khabib laying on his bed watching TV. He's dressed in another of Poirier's T-shirts and a pair of blue bad-boy shorts.

"Shit, did you change again?"

"Maybe, come here" Khabib waves him over.

Dustin goes to his drawer and pulls on a pair of shorts. "Hey, I want those off. Not on!" He laughs, rolling up his T-shirt. The other figher preps his hair in the mirror and sits on the side of the bed. He brings the Russian's T-shirt up to his neck and rubs his body. His index finger stroking Khabib's short but curly chest hair. "I'm not really into chest hair"

"It's not much. And look, my stomach, no hair!" Khabib points as Dustin aggressively pinches his nipple. "No, that's way too much"

"Sorry, I'll go easy" Dustin pats him on the shoulder, before straddling him. He rubs his thighs against the fighters arms and leans over, his kissing his neck softly before making a point to lick his chest hair. He cups Khabib's chest, the way he would his wife's tits, curling his tongue around the nipple. "Your nipples are fucking tiny" He tuts before sucking them one by one.

As tiny as they are his nipples are obviously his Kryptonite. Within seconds of licking the other one, he can feel the undisputed champion harden in his pants. He runs his other hand down his bare chest over-hearing the UFC commentators on the television, talking about his fight.

"I just think Dustin spent time trying to gas Khabib out on the floor" Jon Anik said.

"How? By letting himself get his arse kicked?" Michael Bisping laughs.

"I saw the choke live. It was fucking nasty. Khabib had Dustin by the eyes and around the mouth, completely turning his body and his mind into soup" Dominick said.

Annoyed by the commentary, he taps under Khabib's arm and tells him to turn around. To Dustin's surprise he does without argument.

"How about you be my bitch for tonight?" Dustin asks slapping his ass.

"What?" The eagle asks, confused.

"Nothing, just relax" Dustin quickly gets to work licking his partner's shoulders. His palm on the right shoulder as he begins tongue action on the spine, from the top to the lower back. No where yet done, he pulls Khabib's shorts down revealing his pale ass and opens his cheeks.

"What...are you doing?"

"Just licking"

"No dick, you're not fucking me, I'm not into that" Khabib warns.

"That's cool. Just licking...like this..." Dustin repeats the same licks on the spine, pausing to lightly lick the outside of his arse. He stops waiting until the champion gives him permission with a minute, but embarrased nod. The other lightweight smiles, wetting the outside of the cheek before spreading him wide and spitting in his ass.

It was only when his tongue worked inisde him, that Dustin could finally hear tense moans erupting from Khabib's mouth. He didn't know why, but he figured that the Russian was quiet in bed. A "Fuck" here a small whine through his lips as he came with his wife. He figured that he hadn't had much ass action in Russia. And even if he had, it probably wasn't as good as this. Dustin smiles as much as he could, when Khabib's gasps of excitement blast over the sounds of the TV.

He can barely hear the octagon interviews. One of the worst interviews of his life, nearly in tears with his wife shaking her head in the front row.

"You're my bitch Khabibi, come on man. Say you're my bitch!" He collects his tongue smacking the champion's ass harder. In a flash the Dagestani, has his arm tangled in a weird inverted arm bar.

"What the fuck!" Dustin yells. With his arm trapped, Khabib hugs him to his body and reverses him onto the bed. Before the southerner can blink Khabib is on top. Thighs clamped against his, staring down at him, just like in the fight.

"I'm no-one's bitch. Conor is my bitch. Tony Ferguson will be my bitch, but I am no bitch for nobody. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, course sure" Dustin squirms as Khabib loosen's up.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, sitting on his heels waiting for an answer.

"I wanted that belt more than anything!" Dustin blurts out, suddenly getting emotional.

"Yes, everyone wants my belt. Can I fuck you? Yes or no?" He asks again bluntly.

"Why not? Yeah, It'll take my mind off this nightmare!" Dustin raised his eyebrows, enjoying the view as the champion kisses him lightly on the mouth. Shorts are kicked off, and condoms are slid on. And Dustin starts awkwardly leaning up to get lube.

"Savlon cream? For injuries"

"That ain't lube though!" Dustin whines.

"Same difference, relax. It hurts, I will pull out. I promise" Khabib taps the thighs to get the other fighter to lean up and open his legs. He does so, cringing in discomfort as the Russian slowly thrust himself against him. Maybe they should have started with grinding first. It's too late to ask now, as Khabib gets into his stride licking Dustin's neck and tenderly biting his shoulder.

Khabib's dick feels big. To be fair he was too busy listening to TV and licking ass. He should have focused on the dick that Khabib was gently ploughing him with. He jerks his hips up, as the fighter goes a little faster, his pale body slowly turning a deep shade of pink from the exertion.

"You coming?"

"No"

"If I kiss you more, we can come together Inshallah?" Khabib asks, though it's not a question.

"Dude, that's not how this works" He clenches his mouth.

"You have very nice body. Lovely face too"

"So you don't want to smash my face...Change my face like you did to Conor?"

At the mention of McGregor's name, the champion stops, as soon as he pull's out Dustin knows that he's gone limp. So, there'd be no McGregor threesomes in the future. Which was okay with Dustin, they both couldn't stand that delusional vicious prick. He watches Khabib finally find a towel, dry himself off and put his shorts on. He almost sits on the other fighter's shoulder as he goes back to the bed and strokes Dustin's face.

"Gotta go now"

"Cool"

"I do want to smash your face, but in a different way. You're a very sexy guy!" Khabib nods impressed.

"Thanks...I guess"

"I have your number. I'll call you brother" Khabib gets up, grabs his shirt and leaves the room.

"Wait, how the fuck did you get my number!" Dustin shouts as hears the hotel door being firmly slammed shut.