From the description, Van expected to be bored by Eli's exhibition match.  Instead, he was on the edge of his seat, watching the pair flow around the ring in perfect synchronization.  It was evident that they had fought before and often.

Kevin, for all that he'd looked like he was on some seriously good drugs earlier, struck fast and hard, landing hits to Eli's core that Van hadn't seen anyone else manage.  Eli, for his part, seemed to be able to predict where the other man was going to be, punching seemingly into the air to land hits that glanced off Kevin's cheeks and chest.  If this had been a real match, both men would have been in serious pain.

He could understand now why this was supposed to be one of the most talked about fights of the season.  Even just in an exhibition match, the crowd was going wild for the display of pure talent.

Eli landed a solid hit to Kevin's midsection, sacrificing a lighter glancing blow to his face.  As tall as he was, it wasn't often anyone aimed for his head, and Van could see how Kevin took advantage of that.  Both men were ridiculously fast, so Eli didn't seem to just disappear from in front of the punches like he did in some of his other fights.  He had a bruised lip where Kevin had caught him good in the first round, but Kevin had paid for it with a hit to the ribs that had knocked him over and cost him the win.

Halfway through the match, Van had noticed the tiniest of bruises peeking over the top of Eli's shorts, right above his hip.  Every time he caught a glimpse of it, a shock of arousal rocketed through him, and he was uncomfortably hard by the time the pair started the last round.

Eli was in the lead, but not by much.  Kevin had managed to take two rounds, positioning them to have a tie breaker if he won this last one.

Light on his feet, Eli danced around the ring, blocking Kevin's punches as he watched the other fighter with a focused stare.  Kevin was watching him right back and, when Eli swung, he slipped inside his guard and landed two firm hits to Eli's abs, putting himself ahead.

Rolling his shoulders, Eli slipped around to one side, that hint of bruise drawing Van's eyes.  He missed whatever happened next, Eli evening the score and then dancing backward as Kevin tried to land a hit on his chin.  The pair were so evenly matched, Van couldn't begin to guess who would win.

Shifting in his seat, Van gasped as Eli darted in and knocked Kevin across the chest, sending him sprawling.  It was the same move as the first round, and the Thai pursed his lips as the round was declared for Eli.

The crowd jumped to their feet, screaming as Eli dragged Kevin upright and slapped him on the back.  Both men were grinning behind their mouth guards.  Down in front, a hugely pregnant man approached the ring with three security guards, smiling and waving shyly at Eli before Kevin leaped down and pulled him into a passionate kiss.  The crowd cheered.

It started small; a discordant note from one corner of the room that grew louder until everyone turned to see what was going on.  Richard Blake was striding down the ramp, sunglasses still on in a fake motorcycle jacket.  The discordant note grew louder as the crowd began to boo.

Up in the ring, Eli crossed his arms, the cheer sliding off his face like water.

Blake climbed up on the ropes, snatching the mic from the referee and smiling over his glasses at Eli.  "You ready for all this, baby?"

Van ground his teeth.  He hated the slimy way the man said the pet name.  Knowing how much Eli loved it, he could only imagine how it felt to him.

When Eli didn't respond, Blake hopped into the ring, shedding his jacket and raising his arms to rile up the crowd.  The booing got louder and he grinned, lapping it up.

Ignoring Blake entirely, Van watched Eli.  A tension was creeping into his muscles, making him look even bigger.  Eli watched Blake grandstand with narrowed eyes, his chest expanding with each carefully measured breath.  Van wanted to pull him close and feel him melt, but he wanted to see him kick this pompous prick's ass more.

"Hurry up and knock this guy out, baby," he shouted.  "I was promised ice cream."

Eli's lips twitched, and he turned his back on Blake to walk to the edge of the ring.  The crowd cheered as Blake fumed, trying to drag the attention back by throwing a few shadow punches.  His trainer was trying to get him to hold still for his ugly gold mouth guard, but Blake wasn't having it.

When Eli raised a hand, asking for silence, the crowd hushed.  Van could see Blake's jaw clenching as he stared around the still arena, and he almost laughed.

"I'm going to give you one chance, Rick," Eli said, his deep voice carrying to every corner of the room. "Apologize to Ari, and I'll take you out with a nice clean KO."

Blake threw his head back and screamed with laughter.  "That's your idea of a deal?  I'm gonna beat you to a bloody pulp, you whore."  A couple of people booed in the back, but Eli's hand went up again, his glove still smeared with Kevin's sweat.  Van clenched his fists on the edge of the chair until his knuckles ached.

"Then let's get this over with.  I have a dinner date to get to."  Eli leaned down and let Natalie put in his mouth guard.  She whispered something in his ear, and he nodded, straightening back up and walking to the center of the ring.

Van's throat clicked as he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  This was a very different Eli than any other one he'd seen.  Van had been reading up on Eli's career while he was on medical leave.  This was the guy who had taken out Victor Hernandez in the fifth round at age twenty-two.  This was the boxer who'd kept getting up through ten rounds with Gregori Pasovitch when he was twenty.  He'd lost that match by the tiniest margin, limping out of the arena looking more like ground hamburger than a man.  It had been the bout that put him on the map.

It should not be as hot as it was, the tight lines of muscle sliding under the skin as Eli swung his arms.  He planted his feet, his thighs bulging.  Van squirmed in his chair, wishing he had a cold drink handy.

The arena was completely silent as Blake got himself ready, making a show of each motion.  Even when the anticipation stretched tight, no one moved, and any restless shuffling quickly died down.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said, his voice shockingly loud in the quiet.  "Contenders.  Let's have a clean fight tonight."  He eyed Blake, and the boxer just slammed his gloves together.  "Back to your corners."

Van found it telling that he didn't instruct the boxers to touch gloves.  Blake seemed upset at the lost chance to provoke Eli, seething as the bigger man retreated to his side of the ring without a backward glance.  The tension in the room was stretched tight and, when the bell went off, Van almost jumped out of his skin.  A wave of nervous laughter trickled through the room, but soon the oppressive silence blanketed them again.

Eli wasn't dancing.  That was the first thing that Van noticed; how still the boxer was.  Blake was jumping and bouncing, his feet flashing around as he bobbed and weaved.  Eli planted himself in the middle of the ring like a mountain.

Confused, Blake circled him, but Eli just turned, his hands up and his face set.  Closing the distance, Blake landed the first blow of the fight, to Eli's forearm, following it with a solid blow to his stomach.  Eli never even flinched, bringing his fist up into Blake's unprotected solar plexus.  Coughing, Blake stumbled back, struggling to get his arms up, but Eli didn't bother following through.  He stepped back, planted his feet and waited.

It was like watching a lion play with a house cat.  For every hit that Blake landed, Eli landed a better one, sending Blake stumbling, but never going for the kill.  In the complete silence of the arena, Blake's frustration became increasingly clear as he growled and cursed behind his mouth guard.

By the end of the third round, Blake was dripping sweat, bruises blooming in symmetrical patterns on his sides.  Eli was barely winded.  Van was hard as a rock.

Leaning over the ropes, Eli had a brief conference with Natalie.  When the bell rang, she made her way over to him, shaking her head.

"He wants you to come stand in his corner," she said, her voice carrying over the sound of Blake's cursing as he took a punch to the stomach.

Van tore his eyes away from the ring to glance at the crowd.  No one was looking his way, even the reporters mesmerized by the controlled brutality of the fight.  He had no doubt that, once Eli won, that would change.  Then again, he planned on sticking around as long as Eli would let him, so he'd have to deal with them eventually.

"Okay."  Walking stiffly across the open narrow aisle to Eli's corner, he was too busy trying not to step on anyone to see Blake take the blow to the head.  Blood dripped from his split lip when Van looked up again, his eye already swelling.

Blake was running out of steam, almost out of time.  The bell rang for the end of the round, and he glared at it before throwing a haphazard illegal punch.  Eli didn't even have to block, stepping to one side so that the punch swished past his hip.  He didn't bother to hang around while the referee yelled at his opponent, stomping across to Van and Natalie.

Up close, Van could see the split lip that Kevin had given him and a bruise coming up on his cheek that could have been from either fight.  He still looked beautiful, and Van couldn't help the besotted smile on his face.

"Focus, Donuts," Natalie muttered, pinching him on the arm.  "You done playing with this pendejo?"

Eli glanced at Van, his eyes flat and hard.  "Maybe," he said with a shrug.

The tension in Eli's body was palpable, different from the other fights.  Van wanted to stroke him all over until it melted away like a dark cloud in the sun.  He settled for slipping one hand into the ring to rest lightly on his foot.

"Up to you, baby," he said, keeping his gaze steady.  "I don't have a horse in this race."

Wiping his mouth against his arm, Eli frowned.  "What time is it?"  He wiggled his toes against Van's palm, who stroked his ankle.  Behind him, he could feel the whole fleet of press cameras focusing on his every movement.

"Nearly seven," Van said, watching some of the painful coldness leave his lover's eyes.  "Just about perfect for some ice cream."

Eli smiled tentatively.

"Hey, Thompson," Blake shouted across the arena.  "You gonna come fight me, or are you too busy sucking dick to be a real man today?"

Van cursed under his breath as Eli tensed, his eyes going dead.  Beside him, Natalie shoved the mouth guard back in Eli's mouth.

"Don't say a fucking word.  He always twists everything around to his advantage," she said.

"There's quite the crowd here today," Blake said, ignoring the trainer trying to shut him up.  "Maybe they'd all like to hear about how good you were all spread out for me on those sheets in Chicago.  How you begged and cried after I broke your door down.  You keep saying no, baby, but you won't even throw a real punch.  They all know you want it."

The only thing that kept Van from climbing into the ring and finishing Richard Blake off himself was Natalie's surprisingly powerful grip on his belt.  Eli's gloves were shaking on the ropes, his eyes flicking over the crowd in unfocused panic.  Where Van's fingers were digging into the back of Eli's foot, he could feel his pulse racing, and a sheen of sweat had popped up on his upper lip.

"Eli," he hissed, drawing the boxer's eyes to his.  It took several long heartbeats for Eli to bring himself back from whatever he was seeing, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.  Van unclenched his hands to stroke along the soft arch of Eli's foot.  "You've got this."

Eli stared at him, fear swamping the unforgiving blankness of his eyes.  He mumbled something behind the mouth guard, shaking his head.

"You can beat this guy in your sleep," Van said, pulling himself up onto the edge of the ring.  "Remember what Kevin said?  He's just a nuisance.  You get in there and finish him off, and we'll be eating ice cream in an hour."

"I think I'm going to throw up," Eli whispered, spitting out his guard, his eyes wild as he pressed his forehead to Van's.  "I can't..."

Over Eli's shoulder, Van could see that Blake's trainer had finally succeeded in getting the mouth guard back in.  "Baby," he said, gently cupping Eli's clammy face, "you already have.  You have this fight in the bag, you just have to land the last punch.  One hit.  That's it.  Remember Alexei?  Blake isn't even half as good.  You land a punch like that on him, and he's not getting back up for days."

Throat working convulsively, Eli tried to pull himself together.  The referee was headed their way, and Van could see the announcer getting anxious to ring the bell.  Leaning in, Van pressed the lightest of kisses to Eli's lips.

Surprised, Eli blinked at him, a red flush rising in his ears.  "Everyone's staring," he said, ducking his head.

Van laughed, a startled sound that shattered the grotesque tension in the room like a hammer.  "That's because you're gorgeous, sweetheart.  Now go get this guy so I can feed my hot boyfriend some ice cream and take him home.  I have a surprise for him later."

Eyebrow raised, Eli flashed him a tiny smile.  "What surprise?"

Glancing around, Van leaned in close to whisper, "My blood tests came back from the hospital today."

Eli swallowed hard, his eyes darkening.  "Oh."  Straightening his shoulders, he leaned down and took his mouth guard back, nodding at the referee.   As Van stepped back to the ground, he could see Eli's chest heave with a few centering breaths.

"Three years ago," Natalie said, her voice low, "Eli made the mistake of dating that piece of shit."  The bell rang, and they both watched Eli walk cautiously across the ring.  Blake strode forward like he owned the place.  "He was in the running for Champion, even then," she added, growling under her breath as Blake threw a low punch.  "I knew it was a terrible idea, but Eli always falls too quickly.  When it came time for their fight, Eli thought it would be like Alexei and Kevin.  He laid him flat in the fourth round."

Eli blocked another low punch, taking a hit to the face in the process.  Blood smeared under his nose.

"This asshole, he goes crazy."  Natalie's voice was strangely hypnotic in the absolute silence.  She obviously didn't care who overheard her; her voice conversational.  "That night in Chicago?  It took four cops to drag him off Eli.  It was three months before the broken cheekbone healed."

"Good for Eli," Van muttered.

"Not Blake's.  Eli's," Natalie said.  "Eli wouldn't raise a hand to him and he couldn't tell me why.  Whatever that bastard did to Eli, it runs deep."

Fists clenched, Van watched as Eli ducked away from a punch meant for his ear.  "Come on, baby.  Finish this."

Shuffling backward in the ring, Eli retreated from a hail of sloppy jabs, arms up defensively.  Blake was leaving himself wide open, but Eli hadn't thrown a single punch.

"Come on," Van whispered.  Eli's eyes were red-rimmed, his whole posture dejected.  "Come on."

Across the ring, trapped against the ropes in Blake's corner, Eli's eyes sought Van.  Their gazes locked, and it was like time slowed down.

"You can do this, Eli."  Van wasn't sure if he was whispering or shouting, but Eli seemed to hear him.  "You and I are going to go home, and we're going to forget that this asshole ever existed.  Win or lose."

Eli closed his eyes, a wave of tears flowing down his cheek, and the connection was broken.

Blake rained punches on Eli's arms, trying to break through his defense, and Eli curled up under the blows without trying to stop him.  Spitting out his mouth guard, Blake grinned, his teeth smeared with blood.  "That's right, you little bitch.  Take it.  That's all you're good for.  You like it rough, don't you, baby?"

Eli's head came up with an audible snap, and the crowd gasped.  Straightening to his full height, Eli took a step forward, driving Blake back.  Startled, the other boxer retreated, but Eli followed, one massive fist slamming into Blake's chest.

Someone screamed, the crowd coming to its feet.  Another punch landed, driving the air out of Blake's lungs and sending him stumbling backward.  Another, knocking his arm out of the way.  Another, cracking across his cheek.  Another, another, another.

The referee was watching in shock, too surprised to intervene as Eli turned his opponent into a mess of blood and fresh bruises.  Trapped against the ropes now himself, Blake couldn't even manage to get his arms up to block the hits, swaying drunkenly as he took hit after hit.

The bell rang, making Van jump.  Eli lowered his fists, and Blake slid to the mats.  Everything stopped.

Spitting his mouth guard onto Blake's barely conscious body, Eli growled loud enough to be heard through the room.  "I'm not your fucking baby."

The clapping started in the press section and grew into a roar, but Eli didn't seem to notice.  Climbing out of the ring, he dragged him into a hug and tucked his nose into Van's neck.

Shaking with too much adrenaline, they clung to each other, and Van stroked his hands over Eli's skin, trying to soothe any hurts he might have.  "I've got you," he whispered, making Eli shake against him.

"I really want my ice cream now," Eli said in a voice too small for his big body.

That startled a laugh out of Van and he had to bite his cheek to keep it from fading into hysteria.  "Whatever you want, baby."

"Ice cream, a bath and a bed.  In that order.  I've got a sexy boyfriend to ravish."  Eli smiled shyly as Van just laughed harder.

Someone cleared their throat, barely audible over the cheering.  Kevin and his excessively pregnant husband were standing behind them, huge grins on their faces.  "Thank you," Ari said, pulling Eli into a hug.  With his belly between them, he could barely reach, but he held Eli surprisingly tightly.  "I've wanted to see someone do that for years."

Van blinked at the little man, then at his eerily calm partner.  Kevin just smiled wider.  "Ice cream then?"

"Sure," Van said.  "Why not."  He could ravish Eli in a cleaning closet after some other fight.  He had time.