A dangerous sparring match

Billy took a defensive stance, but his confidence wasn’t there. And with his hands raised like this, his own gloves so close to his chin, pulling the strength out of him just as his opponent’s gloves had moments before…

He felt weak in the knees. His cock was growing in his shorts. His body was scared of his own gloves, screaming at him to take them away from his chin, but he knew that doing that would only expose it to the amateur boxer across from him… And so his gloves hovered an awkward distance from his face, not quite protecting it, but not quite abandoning it either. Quietly draining him, without guarding him.

Heather and Lucy were talking in the coach’s office attached to the gym. They couldn’t see this sparring match about to begin. They couldn’t see how unprepared he looked. But suddenly, it seemed like his opponent could.

There was a glint of recognition in his eyes as he studied Billy’s nervous, unsteady, knock-kneed stance. He really DID look unprepared. Four months of nightly knockouts would do that to you.

The other boxer suddenly got a wild idea. Maybe Billy’s time away had left an opening. Maybe this was his chance to do something great.

The young man stepped out of his corner and stalked towards Billy, gloves raised. It was a very cautious approach, not wanting to take any chances. After all, you couldn’t underestimate an opponent like this, no matter how lost and confused they appeared to be.

In his own corner, Billy was panicking.

Fuck, fuck, fuck… This was so bad. He couldn’t even think, he just needed a moment to fucking think, but…

The boy was closer now, a smile slowly crossing his face as he watched Billy fall apart in the corner. Glassy eyes darting around wildly, posture sunken, raised hands with just the slightest quiver to them.

His brain was melting. Suddenly he realized how close his opponent had gotten, how interested those eyes looked, and Billy fumbled around to get into the fight.

Billy threw out the first punch, a jab, in desperation. It was sloppy and rushed, and the boy easily stepped out of the way. Billy actually let out a soft whimper when the punch didn’t connect, and the boy heard it. Fuck, that was pathetic.

Billy didn’t know what to do. His arms were weak. His muscles were twitching. His dick was throbbing so fucking hard.

Billy was heaving with deep breaths, like he was breaking down. He looked scared. The boy had never seen Billy act like this before. Fuck, NOBODY had seen him act like this before. This was his chance.

The amateur boxer cracked a grin and rushed him, all at once.

Unable to think, Billy moved on autopilot. His weakened chin needed to be protected, and his muscle memory knew all of the moves to keep his softened brain safe, even if he couldn’t think well enough to control the motions on a conscious level.

Billy suddenly snapped to life and stepped out of the way of the boy’s combo, striking him with a counter left hook on the way. It lacked its usual power, but with the boy off balance from his charge, it was still enough to knock him to the mats.

“DAAAAAMMNN!” one of the spectators shouted as, with one punch, Billy’s opponent hit the floor and tumbled over.

The boy quickly sat up, grimacing and feeling foolish for thinking he’d seen a weakness in Billy. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Just above him, Billy’s knees were trembling, his left arm still held out from the punch. That had been so fucking close. He’d barely avoided getting hit, at the very last moment. Billy knew that just one glancing shot would be enough to put him to sleep right now.

And more than that… He had put all the strength he could muster into that punch. An inappropriate move for a sparring match, that Billy never would have gone for if he was thinking properly. It should have been a hard, heavy, instantaneous knockout. But instead, it had come out as a very appropriate punch for sparring. Maybe… 40% strength? It wouldn’t have even knocked the boy down if he hadn’t been off balance from his eagerness.

Billy’s muscles were failing him. Twitching, and shaking, and… And unable to muster their usual power.

And his chin was just one glancing blow away from a deep, deep sleep…

He had to get out of here.

Down on the mats, the boy smiled up at him, rubbing a glove on his sore cheek. “Damn, that was a good one,” he said, unaware of just how diminished the power of that punch had been compared to Billy’s usual.

Billy felt as though some of his soul was still in that boy’s glove, from when it had drained his chin earlier. Like some of his strength had just been stolen away. And now that the glove had gotten a taste, it wanted more.

If the padded glove had drank so much of Billy’s might through mere proximity, he could only imagine the dose it would take if it slammed into his chin hard. Billy didn’t have that kind of strength to spare. He was still trying to recover. This was so fucking bad. He needed to get out of here before something terrible and humiliating happened to him, on what was supposed to be his big return day.

The boy set his glove on the ground, moving to push himself up to his feet again. “Alright, alright, let me try again-“

Just then, Heather stepped out of Lucy’s office and saw Billy standing in the ring, with his opponent down on his ass in front of him. She smiled. It was quite a familiar sight.

“Billy,” she called to him. His head whipped around to stare at her. “I’m taking you home early today, but your coach and I had a wonderful talk. I’ll tell you all about it in the car.”

With a flushed face, Billy hurried out of the ring and pulled his gloves off, leaving his opponent to find someone else to practice sparring with.

Fuck, that had been too close. Heather had barely saved him in time. She had a smug look on her face, like she was oh-so pleased to see Billy already out there winning fights again. She had no idea how much danger he had just been in.

At his mother’s side, the two walked out of the club again, and headed to the car.