Celebration by Ella Ardent

which confirmed the Count’s theory. It was when Rex pulled the jar of lubricant from his jacket and put it on the table that the Count was positive he understood the game.
    “I’m not anyone’s butt boy,” he said, getting to his feet. He hoped he had a choice.
    “If you win, you don’t have to be,” Rex said. “Your choice.”
    The Count looked between them, assessing his chances. The hooded man was younger and muscled, but the Count was wiry and stronger than he looked. They probably had underestimated him. Plus he found the idea of having this resolved immediately very appealing. He wanted his connection with Rex to be done.
    The fact that he’d been cornered and targeted in his own home made him very angry. He didn’t care why Rex had done this. The Count wanted to pound the shit out of somebody.
    And the hooded guy would do very well.
    Maybe Rex would find out what it was like to be someone’s butt boy.
    The Count carefully hid his anger. He peeled off his jacket and hung it up in the hall, then shed his shoes and trousers. He might have been undressing after a long day, completely at ease, not winding himself up for the fight of his life.
    When he walked back into the living room, naked, he got his first surprise. The hooded man was wearing only a hood now and his skin shone. He offered the open jar of petroleum jelly to the Count.
    “Grease up,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “It adds to the sport of it all.”
    “It’s disgusting.”
    “One of the rules,” Rex said.
    “You and your fucking rules,” the Count said through his gritted teeth.
    Rex laughed. “These are fucking rules, actually.” He offered each of them a condom and lubricating jelly.
    The Count sighed. He took the petroleum jelly and smoothed it all over his body, ensuring that it was thickly spread over his shoulders and hips, the two places his opponent was most likely to grab him. He found himself sneaking glances at his opponent. He hadn’t played a rough game like this in a long time, and shouldn’t have been surprised to find himself becoming aroused.
    He was dominant by nature, and this man would learn that soon enough.
    “I knew we were two of a kind,” the hooded man said, gesturing to the Count’s erection. “It’s great that neither of us like rules.”
    The Count had been warned. He bowed slightly, as if they were meeting at a cocktail party. The hooded guy nodded.
    The Count leapt at him before he had lifted his head, striking fast and early. The impact of his blow sent them falling backward in a wrestler’s embrace. The Count couldn’t get a grip on his opponent with the grease although he tried. The other twisted away.
    “Aha! No rules!” he cried and slammed the Count’s head into an ottoman.
    The Count punched him in the gut, but fell, tripping over an end table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor. The damage infuriated him and had him bounding to his feet.
    Rage and lust rose within him, boiling with a need for justice. They were wrong. He’d bang them both senseless. He’d teach them who made the rules.
    The Count charged his opponent and slammed him into the wall hard. That man laughed even when he was trapped in a tight grip. He wriggled one hand free and reached around the Count, sliding his thumb into the Count’s anus.
    “Nice and tight,” he said. “Just the way I like it.”
    The Count kicked him between the legs, driving his knee up into his balls. The other man’s knees buckled. The Count decked him and they fell together again.
    It was like trying to grab an eel and they rolled across the floor, kicking and biting and punching each other. Rex moved out of the way when they approached him, watching the fight with interest while he drank the Count’s champagne. Pictures fell from the wall. More lamps were smashed. Furniture crashed to the floor, and the couch ended up with grease stains all over it.
    The Count was incredibly excited. He couldn’t make any sense of it. He