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“If you keep fighting like this, you really will die.”
The thought lingers in Joe’s mind on repeat while hardened eyes set on the larger man who’s just left him to stand by the bonfire. Of course he knows that. Wasn’t it obvious by the pills and the alcohol that he was trying to die? And moreover, why did Chief care so much? No matter how many times Joe tried to push him away, Chief continued to linger.
It was frustrating. First he gets his motorcycle stolen by the brat kid in the community, now he’s staying overnight again in a trailer that doesn’t belong to him. Joe no doubt looks sickly and nothing like the man that Chief kept comparing him to. He couldn’t hold up to the version of himself from his past that gave Chief and the rest of the community hope. So, what was he hoping to get out of Joe? There was nothing left of him to desire.
Eyeing the beer that he’s only taken a few sips from, Joe suddenly feels a sour taste in his mouth and gets up abruptly, knocking the bottle over with the tip of his shoe in the process.
“It’s too damn noisy out here,” Joe muses to himself and walks towards the trailer for some privacy.
The noise is at least muted now when he’s inside, but Joe doesn’t feel any more comfortable about the change of scenery. Nothing is familiar here. The pictures of a family that were not his own, the drawings on the wall that were obviously from a child, the teacup and kettle that held the brew Joe couldn’t stand . All of it reminded him of the family he’d left behind, the kids he’d abandoned, and…
Yuri.
Joe shakes his head at that thought. He didn’t want to think about Yuri right now. Didn’t want to think about how angry he must be with Joe, how much he must despise him. It’s only what he deserves, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Joe realizes he’s missing the spilled alcohol outside more and more by the minute, but sighs it off for now. Pulling his jacket off and tossing it to the end of the bed, Joe sighs again and collapses on his side into the mattress with his feet hanging over the edge. Right, he’s still wearing his boots.
And that’s when Joe rouses to hear the door open, blinking in surprise and then groaning at the ache in his back and legs from the position he fell asleep in. It felt like he’d just blinked, but apparently it was long enough that Chief entered the trailer and was hanging his hat on the hook of the door.
“Did I wake you?” he asks in a gentle tone, turning his gaze down to meet Joe’s form on the bed.
“Probably for the best. I don’t even remember passing out,” Joe muses mostly to himself, but loud enough for Chief to hear it as he sits up and rubs tired eyes. His back may be sore, but sleeping in a bed made it much less painful compared to lying wherever wasn’t damp. Most of the time the surfaces weren’t even comfortable, so the bed felt like bliss in comparison.
Chief doesn’t reply right away and Joe doesn’t mind. The silence is relaxing for a still tired Joe. As bitter as he is about this entire situation, Chief was a good person. He was the only person in his life as of recent that gave even a little bit of a damn and Joe latched onto that more than he wanted to admit.
“You’ve been asleep for an hour, not so long now. I saw you go inside, but left you to your own devices. Was the noise too much for you?” Chief questions before noticing that Joe isn’t really listening to him, staring off into the tight space of the trailer. Big enough for two at most, but more cramped when one of them was as big as Chief.
Joe doesn’t pay as much mind to it, but he snaps out of his dissociative moment when Chief sits by his side on the bed, holding an acoustic guitar in his hands. The same one from the bar where Joe saw him for the first time.
“Can you play guitar?” Chief asks brightly, the gentle smile present on his features when he finally looks at Joe.
Honestly, what about Joe made him want to smile? There was nothing redeemable about him left. He wasn’t the hero that Chief thought he was. Joe was a shell of the man from all those years ago. A nomad couldn’t be a hero. He couldn’t keep his promise to those kids, couldn’t promise that he would win to keep Nanbu alive for longer, and he ran away from everyone. Joe didn’t even tell anyone… and Yuri was one of the people who deserved to know the most. Every time he thought about Yuri it hurt more than it should and Joe wished there was some way to get rid of the pain.
“No I can’t,” is Joe’s response instead, the same tired gaze meeting Chief’s significantly warmer one.
“Would you like to learn?”
It’s a bizarre question, really. Joe finally kicks his boots off and leans back on his palms while he thought about his answer. No, he didn’t really want to learn. It was a useless hobby for him. He had no intention of going back home, so no one would be around to hear it except for himself. Alone. As it should be.
Yet at the same time, something was pulling at Joe that made it more than a simple answer. Chief had such a smooth, concerned, but caring voice when he spoke to Joe and it felt hard telling someone no for something so harmless. Usually Joe had no problem with that, especially as of recent, but there’s something tugging at his heartstrings that almost makes him scoff at how soft he’s become.
“Not really. I have no use for it,” Joe answers in a less than convincing tone, not even meeting Chief’s eyes when he says it.
“Then I hope you won’t mind me playing here?” Chief asks with a smug glint in his eye, obviously in charge of the conversation.
Joe shrugs in response because what else is he supposed to say? This is Chief’s trailer, after all. He shuffles down the bed a little more to feel a bit less confined, but doesn’t take his gaze away from Chief. The way he’s sitting there with his eyes closed, one hand on the strings and one on the neck… it’s almost like he’s meditating. He’d seen Chief do some similar musings since he’d arrived at Casa; one included a similar moment of peace just like he was having now. Chief was much more than first impressions, for sure.
“ En el desierto un viajero de amor, desesperado quería morir… ”
This was the same song he’d been singing in the bar. Joe had been incredibly drunk and sickly when he’d entered that bar, but it was hard to forget a good singer at a bar in the slums. Most open mic artists were amateurs, and while Joe cared so little for music at the time, even he couldn’t ignore that Chief was different. For some reason this song was important to Chief. The way he sang it was with love and adoration. He wasn’t about to pry into that information, though. They didn’t know each other like that. Regardless, Joe finds himself in awe of it and feels unlike himself for a moment.
The song is hopeful. Chief sings it as if uttering the most beautiful prayer, not to nobody, but for Joe specifically to hear. The metaphors don’t reach him, but the feeling he’s supposed to have from hearing music rises in his chest. It feels like happiness bloomed inside of him without rain or shine to nurture the roots to health. The lyrics and the strumming of the guitar was enough.
“ Cuando su canción la escucho al instante se sintió feliz... ”
Happiness is shaded for a moment when Joe starts remembering every song from back home. The old fashioned record player that hardly worked but Nanbu insisted on having, Sachio humming to the beat of the song even without knowing the one playing, Aragaki’s ridiculous jazzy tunes at the veterans society. And Yuri…
Joe had never heard Yuri listen to music. Whenever they were together they would always listen to a ridiculously serious podcast or the news report. Boring as it was, the two of them weren’t there for that, they wanted each other. The thought hurts Joe’s chest a little more so he tries to focus on the music, but it seems Chief is almost done playing.
“ No volverá… ”
Thankfully Chief doesn’t seem finished with his song, so he starts playing the same melody again but hums the lyrics instead. It’s the type of song that Joe wouldn’t mind listening to over and over, and it’s now that Joe silently accepts that perhaps he has treated Chief too harshly. He’s still full of all his hard edges, but maybe he could allow his guard to relax when around Chief. Just this once. Joe releases his gaze from the guitar to stare at Chief’s expression this time, Chief unable to see him because his eyes are closed. To Joe, Chief seems like an older man than he, but there’s something about him that looks young at this moment. He’s at peace with his life, yet still has so many goals ahead of him. Joe feels a little jealous of him.
Joe closes his eyes and removes his jacket from his shoulders to place on the bed’s headboard before lying down. Chief moves to accommodate him, but doesn’t stop playing the song. It’s making Joe’s eyes feel heavy, desiring sleep for once instead of passing out or forcing himself to sleep when it was all too much. This was a welcome sleep, a warm one in the hands of comfort and care.
Joe isn’t sure if he was dreaming when it happened, but he could’ve sworn he felt fingers curl into his locks and card through them over and over. Tired eyes try to focus and Joe thinks he sees Yuri’s broad frame sitting close to him, comforting him in the way that Yuri only knew how. There’s a lingering ache in Joe’s chest that fades as the song plays in the background, slowly lulling the younger man to sleep.
“Yuri…”
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Joe rouses from his sleep when the sun shines in his eyes through the curtains, causing him to groan and throw his arm over his eyes to cover them. At first, Joe thought he was alone in the trailer, but when he hears the clink of a teacup next to the bedside table, Joe nearly jolts out of his skin.
“Easy, easy…” Chief hums with a little chuckle in the back of his throat. “It’s just me. Drink up, it’s good for you.”
Joe wrinkles his nose when he recognizes the brew by his bedside table and Chief barks out a laugh in response before Joe can even get the words out. Apparently it was obvious on his face that he wasn’t a fan of the drink and this wasn’t his first time drinking it.
“Did Marla give you your first cup? Try mine. I make it a little different than she does.”
Joe still gives him a suspicious look, but decides to try the brew anyway. He isn’t a fan of tea or other “healing” brews, but the version that Chief just made wasn’t as bad as everything else he’d tried. It was flowery and warm, yet didn’t feel like Joe was swallowing flower petals and stems. Joe goes to take another sip and Chief gives him a smug look, the same look he had in his eye from the night before.
“You like it, hm?” Chief teases, while leaning back in his chair, a proud look on his face.
“It’s not disgusting,” is Joe’s answer and Chief waves his hand, satisfied with that answer.
While he sits there in silence with Chief, Joe realizes he should be leaving soon. Marla mentioned that his motorcycle should be finished at some point today, and Joe wasn’t planning on sticking around forever. He’d already stayed here longer than he should’ve. At the same time, Joe knew he would miss Chief’s company. The man was incredibly gentle and caring, something that was rare in Joe’s life even before Nanbu’s death.
At the same time, Joe was incredibly touch starved. The last person who had touched him positively was Yuri and Joe did everything he could to drown sober thoughts of the man he loved. It was less painful to get knocked out in a fight, less painful to throw matches for the sake of the underground Megalo boxing gyms as hard as that was for Joe to do. He desired comfort more and more every day, yet knew he didn’t deserve such touch. But because he was selfish, Joe absorbed every drop of it even though it would never be enough.
“So… Yuri?”
The question shocks Joe out of his own thoughts, choking on the brew while eyes widen as he turns to Chief. Yuri? Chief of course knew Yuri; it was impossible not to know of him if he knew about Joe’s legacy in the ring. No, the surprising part was the suddenness of him being mentioned.
“... What about him?” Joe chokes without realizing, no doubt giving away that Yuri was so much more to him than just a rival. This is the most Joe has allowed himself to talk about Yuri in years, the most he has confronted his feelings on Yuri with a sober mind.
Chief doesn’t answer at first and just hums as if understanding something. It drove Joe crazy, made him feel like he was being observed by Chief. The way he wore his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the way he sat in his chair and stared at him with an intense gaze with arms folded. Joe felt like he was crawling out of his own skin.
And that’s when Joe realizes it. Eyes gaze down to his lap and he’s overcome with almost immediate horror at what he sees. How did he not notice it or feel it before now? There was a hardness in his pants that tented the blanket just barely, yet the realization of it was so suffocating. And with the mention of Yuri… had he been dreaming of him?
It’s impossible to pretend that he didn’t realize his own erection when Chief is staring at him like that and is so obviously aware of the situation at hand. He’s just one step ahead of him at every turn.
“I think you know. He must be more important to you than I realized.”
Yes, Joe does know. Joe knows that he must’ve dreamt about Yuri and had been so deep in his sleep that he hadn’t realized it. He was so desperate for Yuri’s touch in the way that only Yuri could that he’d imagined it even in his sleep. Yet even with being horrified about the situation, Joe can’t ignore the erection or will it away. He hadn’t finished dreaming and wasn’t able to cum to release the pressure from inside him.
Joe dares to look over at Chief again and notices something interesting this time. His eyes wander over Chief’s frame for a moment and then notices something the two have in common. Chief looks just as hard as he does. Has he been that hard the entire time or had Joe simply not realized?
Neither of them speak, but Joe wants to start moving. They’re both hard and even if Joe isn’t hard because of Chief specifically, this wouldn’t be the first time that Joe had slept with someone to get rid of a hard on. They were never of the same caliber as Yuri, but they would do. Joe felt incredibly selfish to think about using Chief that way, but was it really so selfish when Chief wanted this just as badly as he did? So Joe decides to welcome it.
“Come here, Chief.”
Chief seems taken aback by Joe’s bold statement, but doesn’t hesitate to smirk at him moments after the surprise passes. He doesn’t speak but rises from his chair instead and Joe only realizes then how much bigger Chief is compared to him. It isn’t just in height either; the man is a completely different type of athlete than he is. He’s used to being small and has never cared, but that was boxing… sex was different. Joe’s mind wanders for a moment, wondering if that same size difference compares to his---
No. He’ll stop his mind from being impatient about that at least.
Joe leans back into the headboard to make room for what Chief plans to do. He may have beckoned the other man over, but Joe was clearly allowing Chief to take the lead. Joe wanted to use the excuse that he was too tired to perform since he just woke up, but it was curiosity instead about what type of lover Chief was.
Chief had started the conversation about Yuri but seemed to no longer care about that topic, straddling over Joe on the bed so he could start kissing him with one hand curled around his jawline. He had never been with someone bigger than him like this, and Yuri’s hand was never this big. His palm dwarfed over Joe’s cheek, when Yuri’s palm curled under the jawbone and his thumb rested on the apple of his cheek instead. It was so much different than Chief, yet Joe was imagining Yuri instead without even realizing.
“... I have a request,” Chief starts suddenly when he pulls away, meeting Joe’s gaze with a different type of intensity in his eyes than before.
Joe is puzzled by the admission, but nods with a breathless gasp as if telling him to go on and tell him.
“When you say my name… call me Ignacio,” Chief hums and Joe blinks in surprise at just how bold that was. Not only was he insinuating that Joe would call out his name so easily (the thought admittedly sent a chill up his spine), but he wanted him to use what was assumed to be his first name.
“Not Chief? Am I someone special?” Joe snorts with a look of disbelief on his features that Chief has no problem ignoring by going in for another kiss.
Despite how much Joe wanted to prove that it would be a lot harder to make him cry out than Chief thought it would be, Joe already finds himself letting out a soft moan into Chief’s mouth. All it took was his tongue and his palm running over Joe’s breast and the sensitive bud underneath his shirt. Was it really so easy because he hadn’t been with someone in so long? It was a little embarrassing, but Joe still wasn’t going to let it happen that easily. He was too stubborn for that… and Joe assumes that Chief will enjoy the fight anyway.
So Joe reaches a palm down and squeezes Chief through his pants which elicits a moan from Chief’s lips this time. Even Joe can’t hold back a smirk at that, especially when Joe is lifted by his ass against Chief’s thighs, his shirt quickly thrown off with Chief’s in tow.
Joe doesn’t have much time to observe his frame before his vision is obscured by Chief’s head making a home in the crook of his neck. His lips mark every free spot that Chief can reach, leaving a constellation of hickeys in its wake. Small moans escape from Joe’s mouth at this as hips rise to meet where Chief is hard in his pants still; Joe is already sick of the clothes getting in between the prize. Was he always this impatient with Yuri, too?
Joe tries to reach down again for Chief’s pant button with both hands this time but Chief stops him by gently putting him back down against the bed to hold his wrists above his head. He only needs one hand for this, something that makes Joe feel more hot under the collar than he wants to admit.
“Paciencia, Nómada,” Chief teases by using his ring name while looking down at him. “Are you so impatient for the main event?”
“Let’s just say it’s been a while,” Joe says, but makes no attempt to remove Chief’s grip when he could easily do so if he really wanted to. Chief was stronger than him, but they were both fighters. Joe even now didn’t know how to give up easily.
Chief stays firm though and starts kissing a path down Joe’s torso now while he holds his arms in place, legs kicking underneath his frame as their breathing speeds up the more aroused they get. Chief because of Joe, but Joe because of what he’s imagining. Chief is perfect… but he’s not Yuri. No one could ever kiss or touch him the way that Yuri could, and while Chief was one of the rare ones who could get him worked up, he still could never compare to what he and Yuri had before Joe had left.
Joe comes out of his daydream when Chief lets go of his arms and is pulling off both of their pants now, then their underwear. One thing that Chief does have that Yuri doesn’t is a fat cock and it makes his stomach turn a little bit thinking about how that will be inside of him. In a good way, that is.
Chief notices his staring but doesn’t say anything at first, just shows Joe his smirk while reaching for a condom and some lube from one of the drawers by the bed. Honestly, what did he do this time besides stare? Was that something strange to do during sex with someone new?
“What’s that look for?” Joe questions in a breathless tone, something he was trying to hide because it only made Chief grin more.
“Qué chula, Joe…” is all he says which makes Joe wrinkle his nose and get a light blush on the apples of his cheeks, lightly shoving Chief’s chest. The only thing that does is make him laugh, not helping Joe’s situation much.
“Shut up.”
“... Joe,” Chief starts, serious now as their gazes meet again and time stops for a moment. The way he looks at him is soft, caring, and warm. Joe hasn’t been looked at in such a way in such a long time… the last person to do that was Yuri. It felt like his brain was on repeat, thoughts of Yuri consuming his mind every time he tried to do anything romantic or sexual. It felt unfair to Chief, unfair to a man who wants to do this for the two of them, not for Joe’s imagination to wander to a man who may not even love him anymore.
“... Ignacio,” Joe says this time and he can visibly see Chief swallow at that, the name clearly doing something to him. Was it really so simple as a name? When was the last time someone called him that?
“Turn around.”
Chief gives him room to do so and Joe feels his bones crack when he gets up and turns around, almost cursing at how old his body feels already, how much easier it was to do this even five years ago. Nevertheless, he braces his hands on the headboard and turns his head around to see Chief even though the whole point is to look forward. Joe doesn’t keep that position for long though because Chief’s lubed finger presses inside him carefully, although Joe thinks it’s two fingers at first.
God, how could one man be so big? If his fingers were already making Joe feel like this, he wasn’t sure how he was going to take Chief fully when it was time for the main event. Especially when he had already been so painfully hard for this long. Letting his head droop between his shoulders and sweat form on his temples, Joe lets out a loud moan when Chief adds another finger to spread him even wider.
“Fuck!” Joe swears and throws his head back this time, to which Chief reaches for his jaw this time to cradle him just like before, Joe’s frame pressed up against Chief’s back this time. Honestly… how could he be so comforting with his touch? Joe didn’t deserve it.
He deserved rough, brutal sex, not the patience and care that Chief was giving him right now. Joe deserved the strangers in the hotels that fucked him ruthless and came inside him even when he asked them not to, the ones who couldn’t even get him up enough to finish, the ones who made Joe end up touching himself thinking of Yuri instead. Just like he was thinking of now.
The moment Chief’s cock enters him is almost Joe’s breaking point, his back arching as Chief starts slowly rocking into him and making Joe finish much quicker than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just the sex. It was the care, the touch, and the reminder of Yuri on his mind.
“Ah, fuck! … Hh… Yuri…”
Oh. The name slipped from his lips before he could even stop it. Chief doesn’t stop though, doesn’t even hesitate actually, and that’s when Joe realizes what was going on here. Chief may have been genuinely interested in Joe here, but Joe wasn’t as good as he thought he was at hiding how he imagined Yuri with him. Chief knew the entire time, yet never decided to stop, and never decided to confront Joe on the situation.
Chief finishes inside of the condom and Joe feels defeated and guilty at the entire situation, his eyes heavy and his body limp and left without feeling in Chief’s arms. There was no doubt that Chief could sense the change in him, that he could tell that Joe was on the same page as him now even though it took this entire ordeal for him to realize it. Because of this, Chief lets go of Joe the moment he pulls out and allows Joe to do what he desires even though the man is absently threading fingers through Joe’s locks. So that really did happen the night before?
“... I’m sorry. I should go,” is all Joe can say before he’s scrambling up to grab at his clothes, reaching for his jacket as the final item of clothing to put back on when Chief stops him.
“Joe. Don’t blame yourself for what happened here. I wanted to do this for you. It’s okay.”
Despite the reassurance, Joe can’t face him and keeps his head turned to the side, but doesn’t pull away from Chief’s grip that feels so much different than Yuri’s always did. Right… how could he even imagine Yuri when they were so different? It was a mistake to even let this happen, to let the two of them get so close together.
“You shouldn’t have done that for me… but I’m grateful,” Joe lies anyway, not because he didn’t enjoy that Chief thought of him, but because Joe doesn’t have the heart to hurt his feelings anymore than he’s sure that he has.
Chief lets go of his wrist after that without a word, but the look in his eyes is enough. The play was done and it was back to reality. He needed to leave anyway. There was no doubt that Marla was waiting for him with his fixed up motorcycle. It was time to go to the next boxing ring, the next place that would milk him dry of all meaning until they no longer wanted to fund him.
“Thanks… for everything, Chief,” is the last thing Joe says before closing the door behind him, somehow feeling a sting in his heart that he called him by the name everyone called him, despite knowing something so personal about him.
He should’ve never let his guard down. It was easier that way.