They have no way of figuring each other out, no way of possibly knowing what the hell is going through their minds. Xiang is certain of himself except in this aspect. Xander is a variable that he hasn’t equated into the grand scheme. Few people could rise up toe to toe with him, keeping him interested and on guard. “Arrogance or confidence?” He’s grinning, backed into a corner and more than content to fight his way out if possible. “I can never tell what it is you wear so often.” Xander aims too wide and too forceful with his swings, it isn’t hard for him to strike and push that force away, wading through the barrage with flowing movement. It’s like surfacing for air, gasping with shuddering breath, when that fist meets his solar plexus. Hands grapple and swing, soon though he’s caught in the heft of Cage’s arm. A stained laugh slips free and he leans into that grip, testing the boundaries carefully before the onslaught of teeth into his shoulder startles him. There are sheets pressed against his cheek and the weight of the other man’s body is enough that he can’t throw off easily. “Call me geezer and I’ll kill you.” Xiang’s hands grapple with the sheets, muscle straining and ink coming alive beneath cold sweat. The kanji between his shoulders is caught in the gradual swirl of those sakura blossoms down along his lower back. Xiang’s shoulders heave as he draws in breath, legs tensed against the sheets under the cage of Xander’s legs. The hint of more ink peeks out, the dragon’s claw crushing the delicate sakura and the serpentine body winding beneath denim. Slowly Xiang yields, with some hesitance, and wordlessly the tension bleeds out as his fingers find Xander’s forearm with foreign tenderness.
The moment is delicate, one wrong word could set him off and he would escape out the window instead of yielding to that heavy weight bearing down. His other hand twists in the sheets, spine curving lewdly as he fights in a different way and satisfies the simmering wildfire under his skin. His mouth is dry, almost hyper-aware of the swell of Xander’s cock caught in the slow grind backwards, body feverish with swelling want. Xiang draws in a shaking breath, spread out underneath him and waiting knowing that in a way he’s lost but won as well. It would change things, his heart already hammering painfully at the cold realization Xander means more than a casual fuck.
Those fingers may as well bruise his soul.
Xander Cage’s life has been about expecting the unexpected, being able to bob and weave as shit was thrown at him in pursuit of the ultimate thrill. He’d always been able to roll with the punches and move with certainty, keeping himself safe, and anyone else if he needed to. But now there is Xiang and his brain is doing things he’s never felt before, turning off, running on auto-pilot in a way that makes his hands pull punches because though he wants this fight, he doesn’t want either of them to be hurt too much, it would ruin the excitement of the moment, whatever was happening. His body seemed to know what was happening. “Little of both, probably.” He says and you can hear the smirk. “I wear what I gotta wear, but I can make anything look good.” He was most comfortable in tanks and slacks or jeans that gave him a decent range of motion, nothing that restricted him too much. They continue their volley of punches, kicks, and attempts at holds, and he knows Xiang is faster than him, so he tries to compensate, throw a few unexpected punches at a few unexpected areas, some of them hit, some of them don’t, until the wind knocks out of Xiang’s lungs and he’s got that upper hand. It was easy enough to get the sleeper hold locked in–but jut a bit loose. Something short-circuits in his mind when he feels him leaning into his arm, pushing himself against it more and X is there, but his mind is no longer working, not like he’s used to.
“Right.” Not disbelieving, and he makes a note. His body moves now, unbidden, auto-pilot like it’s done hundreds of times before, and yet like it’s never done before. Because it’s Xiang, and not some gorgeous woman, it’s not even that wispy queen, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. The hand on his arm nearly sends him into letting go, but instead, his hard-on grinds into Xiang’s ass, meeting the back that’s arching into him and he wants this. He can’t explain why, or how, but Xander is filled with a want and need that clouds his mind and lets a growling grunt out as his teeth unlatch. “Fuck…” he can’t help himself. They’re both alpha dogs, lions in their own right, and this fight for dominance has all but come to an end, he can feel the slight give in Xiang’s being, and the desire washes over them and drowns them both. X keeps his arm around his neck, but the other trails down and works Xiang’s pants. He’s not thinking, just reacting, reading the room, letting his body get what it wants, what it needs, This isn’t a one night stand thing, and Ainsley was right, he could tell, but the more his body responds, the more he tells himself Xiang’s going to be that 1, not one of the 9.
The fight is different now, he releases Xiang’s neck, dragging his lips and teeth down the man’s back, marks raising behind the sakura from suction and bites. His arm hooks Xiang’s, keeping him from moving too much, muttering words in a language he’s honestly forgotten, one neither of them can understand. It’s fitting, they’re in new waters, this is all new for both of them, they don’t understand what’s happening, but they understand each other–at least enough that they both know they can’t stop.