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About Varied / Student Mrs. Brock RumlowFemale/United States Groups :iconfranciscorandezfans: FranciscoRandezFans
He's the MAN! Right? ;P
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7 Years and Counting (Queen's MMA AU) Bisping x OC :iconqueen-of-olympus:queen-of-olympus 0 0
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7 Years and Counting (Queen's MMA AU) Bisping x OC :iconqueen-of-olympus:queen-of-olympus 0 0
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.10 :iconqueen-of-olympus:queen-of-olympus 0 0
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.9 (LEMON) :iconqueen-of-olympus:queen-of-olympus 0 0
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.7 (LEMON) :iconqueen-of-olympus:queen-of-olympus 0 0
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.5
 When my alarm goes off the next morning, I see that Georges has left a note on my nightstand.
 I went to the gym before your alarm went off. I have been instructed by Firas and Greg to make you rest, so I set it for a later time. I saw you had a tattoo appointment circled on your calendar- I'm flattered you bought mine by the way. I'll meet you there and we can go have something to eat after.
Ta grand oiseau du proie, Georges

  I blush slightly. I'd forgotten about my slightly creepy Georges St-Pierre calendar that I'd gotten for Christmas from my Mother. She jokingly told me that one day I wouldn't need the calendar to see GSP every day. I think she meant we'd be colleagues not lovers. At any rate, I get out of bed, rip a brush through my hair and slide in to my small walk in closet to pick out my clothes for the day. I was getting a tattoo, so I selected my usual tattoo clothes. Since I turned eighteen I'd gotten a whole mess of tattoos. I got "754" on m
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.4 (LEMON) :iconqueen-of-olympus:queen-of-olympus 0 3
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.2
 Georges picks up after three rings.
 "Hello?" He asks, "This is Georges."
 "Misha." I tell him, a hopefully evident smile in my tone. "You left your number here last night? Kind of thought it meant you wanted me to call you."
 "Yeah, I need a pretty lady to come with me to an opening for one of my sponsors... thought I could take you out before... coerce you in to some good wine and dining?"
 "No coercion needed. I'm totally game for that."
 "Great! I'll pick you up in two hour, sound good?"
 "Perfect." I reply, "What have you got planned for dinner?" I ask.
 "I want it to be a surprise." Georges laughs, "Just wear what you want. I'm a casual guy." I smile, thinking about what I'd tell my past self, and if my past self would believe I'd be discussing a date with GSP.
 "I'll see you in two hours then. Bye!"
 "Au revoir."
 He arrives at my door in jeans and his Affliction tee shirt. I'd thrown on short shorts and my own Affliction t
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Fighter In You (Queen's MMA AU) Ch.1
I can feel it dripping down my face from the cut above my brow. Blood reddens my view as I stare down my opponent: the current Bantamweight Champion. It was close. A five round title shot. And I'd won two rounds and she'd won two rounds. I feel a hard blow to my ribs but I am able to take it. I step in, jumping in to my strike and catch my opponent on the jaw. Her head flies back and she goes down hard, knocked out. And suddenly I feel the ref pulling me back, shouting time. I step away from the woman, hear the roar of the crowd and see Greg coming in to the Octagon.
"You knocked her out kid. You're the new Champion. Nineteen fucking years old and you're the Champion." Greg praises, patting my abs as I pant around my mouthpiece. I spit it out, sucking off the saliva on it, and hold ot up to the crowd who roar even louder. I throw it into the reaching hands of the spectators and watch as a guy wearing an American Fighter tee shirt catches it. He looks like one of those guys who casually
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Hellbender Mini Chapter 30 :iconhydra-in-brooklyn:hydra-in-brooklyn 1 0
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[Revived my Brock Rumlow!]
:iconDoesnt--like-you: Doesnt--like-you
Please to give him some love, I love this douchebag so much. I might do some revamping but if you guys could leave starters or smth that would be great.
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Brook Rumlow by SweetMourningStar Brook Rumlow :iconsweetmourningstar:SweetMourningStar 2 0 Chibi-Rumlow collection by ashetana Chibi-Rumlow collection :iconashetana:ashetana 4 6 Brock Rumlow: Centuries by TheRainbowMess Brock Rumlow: Centuries :icontherainbowmess:TheRainbowMess 1 4 Brock Rumlow stickers RU / ENG by capofamiglia
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Brock Rumlow stickers RU / ENG :iconcapofamiglia:capofamiglia 4 5
Mr. Rumlow by capofamiglia Mr. Rumlow :iconcapofamiglia:capofamiglia 5 0 Brock Rumlow by mssPElena Brock Rumlow :iconmsspelena:mssPElena 5 1
My Girl Lola part 15
    I'm barely off the ladder before there are projectiles flying at my head. It seems these Mercs don't know when to cut their losses. Although, since they agreed to go after Shepard in the first place I guess they weren't ever very bright.
    Lola takes cover behind a crate, charging her biotic flare. She peeks her head around the corner, getting a quick mental picture of their layout, and then launches it. Half a second later I feel the rush of energy as it explodes, taking out 2 mercs and knocking down 3 others.
   Wrex grins. "That's more like it."
   I have to admit, after being trapped in a vault to die the mercs screams are making me smile too.
   Lola takes a quick glance at me over her shoulder before focusing her assault rifle on a nearby soldier. "As much as I appreciate the moral support, do you think you could start killing things now?"
   "Sorry, Lola." I say, tossing a grenade at
:iconphsbarbie:Phsbarbie 6 5
Burn with Me: A Captain America FanFic-Chap 47
Chapter 47
     We didn’t have any cow, or any thawed meat for that matter, but we did have the makings of an alfredo sauce. I’d started working on it immediately, telling Steve that he had to sit this one out since I had the recipe in my head. I think the only places it was written down were being carefully hidden in Carulo kitchens.
     The resulting dinner was excellent and the conversation was even better. I asked Steve about his drawing, curious to know how long he’d been at it and what he would scratch out with his pencil. He said he’d been drawing for about as long as he could remember and that nothing was off limits to him. Trains, buildings, monkeys on a wire, he drew everything. He wished he still had his old journals from his childhood and the days of the war, and all of the memories stored inside the yellowing pages, but he wasn’t too beat up about it. He said that he was already close to filling up the
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WR Next Generation PG 477 by NatsumeWolf WR Next Generation PG 477 :iconnatsumewolf:NatsumeWolf 169 33 WR Next Generation PG 476 by NatsumeWolf WR Next Generation PG 476 :iconnatsumewolf:NatsumeWolf 119 11 WR Next Generation PG 475 by NatsumeWolf WR Next Generation PG 475 :iconnatsumewolf:NatsumeWolf 152 69


Sparring Partners
Diana from my Fanfic "Semper Fi" sparring with Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier. In the story, these two were briefly a couple. Diana honed her hand to hand combat sparring with Bucky and Steve. Like how this turned out. AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT BUCKY'S LITTLE BOOTY IN THOSE JOGGERS!!???!?!?!?!?!???!????!!!??!?

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My pleasure immediately screeches to a halt as those words fall from his lips. I freeze, unsure of what to say. I stare at him, feeling warmth drip from between my legs as he too, looks at me with the same frozen expression. "I-," I do what comes naturally and just press my lips to his firmly. He wraps his arms around me and carries me to the bathroom. He helps me clean up, and his hands are so gentle.
 "I was out of line. It is way too soon for that and I-,"
 "No... I... I love you too. It isn't too soon. We've both waited seven years to hear it. You just... surprised me is all."
 "Alright." He nods, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin from his wake up call. "You can wake me up like that any time."
 "I'll remember that." I chide.
 "Do you need the pill?" He asks me, "I wasn't thinking. I'm too old to make a mistake like that and you getting pregnant would really fuck up your career..."
 "I have an IUD." I reply, "So it's nothing."
 "Alright. As long as you're good, I am. I'm still sorry. I wasn't thinking. You make it hard for me to think."
 "Mmm... don't get too distracted." I slide past him to the shower and I turn it on. "We have a run to go on." I step in and he's behind me suddenly. His hands rest on my hips and his lips are right beside my ear.
 "We already got our cardio." He tells me.
 "No we haven't. I'm just cleaning up." I push back against him, having a quick rinse before stepping out of the shower and leaving him there. I was being very bad. But My career and my fitness came first. His did too. I slide in to the closet, grab my compression shorts, running shoes, and slide on my UFC sportsbra. Michael comes in as I'm lacing up my shoes. I reach in to a bin beside where I'm sitting and get out my compression sleeve. I pull it over my shoe on my left leg, velcro it at the top to hold it in place, and then stand up. Michael pulls on his boxers- tight fitting. Tommy Hilfiger. He then slides in to some dark grey sweats and puts on his own running shoes.
 "What's this route you were talking about?" He asks. I highly doubt his ability to keep up with me. I've been heavily praised for my conditioning, and that wasn't for nothing. My run was three and a half miles straight up the hills and then back to my house. I would usually rest mid-way for like... two seconds, then back down I go, shadowboxing as I go. Stopping at benches to do push ups on the incline.
 "Long." Is all I say. I lead him out of my closet, through the house, out to the garage. I hand him a resistance band and warm up by stretching out my hamstrings, jogging in place. Get my blood flowing. I mime jumping rope, throw out some one-twos as I bounce on the balls of my feet, bob and weave. As I feel warmth creep in to my muscles, I jerk my head towards the garage door. "Ready?"
 "I suppose."

 I take off with measured strides up the hill, going right once I hit the end of my driveway. Michael follows right beside me, matching his strides to mine. I pop in headphones as we jog and I notice him doing the same. His eyes are glued to me to know the way, but he's not really seeing me. I let my arms pump at my sides, keeping stride, even, breathe. We make it through the first mile in about ten minutes. In twenty we've gone a little over two. When we reach the crest of the hill, it's been a little over thirty minutes. I pause to take in the sunrise. The sun is usually lower when I get here. I blame my little wake up call. But I'm not complaining. The sun warms my already warm muscles and I love it. I glance at Michael who has stopped to look at me and smile.
 "Ready to get back?" I ask. He lets out a little breath. He's sweating more than I am despite not wearing a shirt. He takes out one ear bud.
 "What was that? Three? Four miles?"
 "Three and a half. Your internal map is good." I chide, "And we have to go back down."
 "You run seven miles every morning?"
 "Not on Saturday or Sunday." I reply, laughing a bit. "But Monday through Friday, yes. Every morning. The way down is easier for sure. I pause to do some calisthenics and I shadowbox a bit."
 "Alright. This is why you're so tiny." He jokes, "Have you ever been right on 135 at a weigh in?"
 "Nope. Always under." I say, putting my music back in and heading back down the hill. Michael follows quickly behind. I pause at the first bus stop bench and do push ups with my feet up on it. Michael follows suit. I do sets of ten, pause for ten seconds, another ten, up to thirty, then get up and start jogging. From the bus stop to the next, which is about half a mile away, I shadowbox between every break in the sidewalk. One-twos in the first, hooks in the next, a sprawl. Then a freestyle, staying in my jog, then side passes until the bus stop where I grab on to the overhang and do pull ups. I do sets of five, pause for ten seconds, then another set of five up to twenty. I alternate push ups and pulls ups at each stop until we reach my house. Michael has kept up well, but he's definitely more winded than I am. I usually did another set of cardio at the gym after sparring. I spar Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings. Monday was usually Muay Thai.
 "If you're strong, that's all that matters." Michael nods, wiping sweat from his brow. He and I walk back to my closet. He sheds his sweatpants and slips in to a pair of MMA shorts. He grabs a grey tee and his boxing gloves. I point to his legs.
 "Do you have shin guards?" He shakes his head no and I nod.
 "Oh boy. You get to use Dad's!" I laugh. "They're not that bad. They're just old. He never uses them and they're clean." He sighs, nodding once more.
 "I'll call Venum tomorrow. Have them overnight me something."
 "Good idea." I reply. "Muay Thai today... really good coach. Master Durand. Spent years in Thailand." I explain, "He changed my kicks. He's a bit unorthodox but he's a good coach. My shins weren't the same after his first session with me. I did nothing but kick the heavy bag for two hours."
 "Sounds like a hardass."
 "He is." I laugh.  I slide in to my Muay Thai shorts by Venum and a plain black sports bra. Over top I put a tank and I look to Michael. "Since you know where LaRue is now, you can drive."

 We arrive and I see my Dad's motorcycle and my Mom's sedan out front.
 "Let's leave 'I love you' at the door." I say as we get out of the car, "For professional and personal reasons."
 "That was my plan." He agrees, "No relationship inside the gym."
 "Yup. The way it has to be." I lead him through the door that will take us through the office and my Dad looks up from his place at the desk. He gives Michael the once over, stands up, and crosses the room. My mom stays on the couch, laptop on her knees as she types away at a spreadsheet. My Dad kisses me on the forehead.
 "Master Durand is waiting for you in the cage. He's brought in that kid he brings all the time. Will Michael be joining as well?"
 "Yeah. Can he borrow your shin guards?"
 "Sure. Go on now. I want a word with your boyfriend."
 "Dad." I give him a small glare, "Michael and I aren't together when we're in the gym. Even just in the office away from everyone who would give a shit. Come to dinner at my place tonight. You can talk to him then. Away from business."
 "My daughter." He squeezes my shoulder and gives a meaningful look to Michael, "Always the smart one. Alright. Don't make Durand wait any longer. Get on."
 "Thanks, Dad."


 She leaves the office and her Dad catches my arm as soon as she's out of earshot.
 "We will talk, yeah?" He tacks the question mark on the end, but I know he's not asking. He's confirming. I nod.
 "Yes sir." He releases my arm and I head out to the cage where I'd worked mits the night before with Mia. In it is an older man, wearing a boat hat, white sweatpants and a black tank top. Mia bows to him before entering the cage. She walks over to him, bows again, and earns a slight incline of the head from the Master. She holds up her left hand and he wraps it for her with white wraps. The two don't speak. His wrap is smooth and flat but tight and well done. She gives him her right hand once he has taped down her left and repeats the process. I do what I think I need to do and bow as I enter the cage. The Master simply jerks his chin at me in the general direction of the opposite side of the cage and I go to stand beside another man. He's leaner than I am but just as tall, with blond spikes. His eyes are hard, but I can tell he was once very carefree. He doesn't introduce himself and I follow his example. Durand checks Mia's hands, holding both of hers in his and sends her to our side of the cage. She bows to him once more, turns on her heels and heads towards me. She folds her hands behind her back and keeps her eyes trained on the Master. I hear him shout something in French and someone sets a pair of red handwraps on the top stair of the cage. He grabs them, as well as a pair of blue ones, and heads back towards us.
 "This is routine." He tells me. I hold up my left hand and he places the thumb loop over my thumb. "I wrap your hands before every session. Mia and Kurt know the drill. And you will learn as well, Mr. Bisping." So he knows my face. I incline my head to him and watch as he wraps my hand. I simply keep my fingers splayed as far as I can as Mia had. "Your boxing is excellent. This much I know. But your Muay Thai is lacking." He slaps down the velcro and then repeats the wrapping process with my right hand. Once he's finished, he goes to who I assume is Kurt and wraps his hands. The whole process is meticulous. But I think I understand. Routine. The moment is calm. He'd wrap Mia's hands before her fights, and she'd go in with the mindset that this is just another sparring match. Just another day at the gym. I see movement outside the cage. We have gathered spectators. Someone places three sets of gloves and two sets of shin pads just inside the cage. Durand keeps wrapping Kurt's hands and looks to Mia and I. His eyes flash for just a fraction of a second to the items on the floor and Mia is quick to go over to get them. I follow her. She grabs her shin pads and slides in to them, then her gloves. She puts them on quickly. As I put on my own shin pads, I note the freedom of movement I have in my hands, as well as the good padding I have on my knuckles. He's good. I put on my boxing gloves and step back over beside Kurt as Durand is releasing him to retrieve his gloves. The Thai fighter does not wear shin pads.
 "Ms. LaRue, did you run this morning?" He asks her.
 "Yes, Master." She replies. He nods. He does not look at me. He looks to Kurt.
 "Mr. Sloane. Work with Mia. Go just five minutes and I will see what it is we work on today." He turns his attention to me as Mia and Kurt go to the center of the ring. Someone starts their timer and they touch gloves respectfully. "Mr. Bisping. Leave the cage. See the heavy bag over there? The one straight across the way? Go kick the bag. Until I come get you." My face falls a bit, but he gives me a small flick so fast I didn't have time to react and it stings, "Go! Sets of two. Alternate. And be glad it isn't a banana tree." I leave the cage and the door slams shut behind me. Durand climbs to the top of the cage and sits there, watching Mia and Kurt. I position my body so that I can keep an eye on the action inside the cage. But I focus on mid-height kicks to the bag. It is harder than I anticipated- the bag, not the kicks. It is a long heavy bag that nearly touches the floor, and it is wrapped in a hard leather with little give to it. It would be hell without shin guards. I keep a decent pace. My legs are more tired than they normally would be at this point in the day- Mia's run was twice as long as my usual one.

 "Keep your hands up, Mia!" I hear Durand's sharp accent snap, "See how he angles out on you. Match his angles. Remember your level changes. Be the target he has to work to hit, not the one that avoids being hit." He orders. I hear Mia's feet on the canvas. I wish I was cageside watching her. But this is what Durand wants me doing. And I suppose I should have anticipated it, considering Mia told me her first lesson with him was just kicking a bag until her shins bruised. I keep my hands up, landing kick after kick and listening to the chain rattle until I can barely stand it. "Mia, Mia, Mia. Darling. Calm. Be calm. Flow with him. We're just working. No need to kill him with every strike. Don't broadcast what your next move is going to be. Misdirection. Good. Nice left. Circle out. Yes. Alright pause." Feet sounds stop on the canvas. I keep kicking. "Kurt, show her that high kick. One to the head." I turn to watch the Thai fighter as he does two kicks. One goes low, like a check to a leg kick, the second to the body. These two go fast. His leg is so still, so in control. The third kick comes very slowly as he raises his leg to be higher than Mia's head. If the fighter were taller than he was, they would be without a head. Kurt holds the high kick for a moment, then lowers the leg and does the three kicks at full speed. He then resets and does just the high kick. "Notice how still the leg beneath him is. He is strong on that leg." Kurt holds his foot high in the kick, as if frozen, and Durand is now on the canvas with them. Mia moves aside and watches as Durand gets in to his fight stance and kicks the leg which supports Kurt. The snap can be heard throughout the quiet gym, let the leg does not waver. Durand kicks again and again nothing. He aims higher, at the knee, and again does not phase the young Thai fighter. I keep kicking the damn bag. I listen in to the clinic-esque instructions from Master Durand, turn to watch as Kurt breaks down a move in slow motion for Mia, and keep kicking. My shins are starting to hurt, even through the shin guards but I keep up. I don't want to look slacking for a coach. I don't ever want to look slacking. After the last buzzer goes off, I hear Velcro being pulled as Mia takes off her gloves and wraps.
 "Thank you, Master Durand." I hear her say, "Thank you, Kurt."
 "You're welcome." Says the Thai fighter. Durand says a few parting words to Mia before heading over to me. Mia and Kurt strike up conversation. I hear him say-
 "-maybe go out for a drink?" And I swing my leg once more with more force than any of my other kicks. The bag flies to the end of the chain and I see the leather split finally from the abuse. My shin pads too have taken a beating. I kick again, trying not to lose my head. Durand places a hand on my shoulder.
 "You need to be focused on your sport and not your petite fille." He says shortly, "Curb your emotions in here. Mia can. So can you. The way your eyes swallow her, I'm shocked there is any of her left for me to train."
 "My apologies." I offer simply, not sure what else to say. Mia glances over but I try to ignore her as Durand speaks to me.
 "I didn't want you in the cage for fear of you being distracted. Next week, I'll call you in. But you will work with Kurt."
 "Yes, Master." He nods, seemingly satisfied.
 "Nice work. Your kicks aren't as bad as I thought they would be."

 Durand leaves me slightly baffled. I take off my gloves and wraps, slide off the shin guards and find Mia on the second level of the gym. She is face down inside the sauna, a towel over her head. I follow suit, stripping to nothing and wrapping a towel around my hips before I enter the sauna. She looks up when she hears me. I toss some more water on the coals to keep it hot and take a seat.
 "Durand is very much about discipline." She explains quietly, turning her head so she can speak without muffling her voice against the wooden bench she lays on. "How are your shins?"
 "Why do you have a bag made out of leather that hard?" I ask her. She laughs.
 "Durand put it up when he started coaching me. It is made to condition your shins to take abuse."
 "It did plenty of abusing, that's for sure." I reply, laughing a bit. "What did Kurt say to you?"
 "He asked me out again." She says boredly, as if that was normal. "He doesn't give up. I told him I was seeing someone and he laughed but told me it was 'about damn time'."
 "That's good then. He knows when to back off."
 "Yeah. I just never wanted to because he's a regular sparring partner, you know? And he's one of Durand's... I wouldn't do that to him."
 "Makes sense. He just told me not to look at you like I want you as badly as I do. I didn't realize I was doing that."
 "Mmmm... Durand knows that love can weaken a fighter. It gives us something to lose, when in reality... we should fight every time as if we have nothing to lose and everything to gain."
 "Durand said I would work with Kurt next week."
 "That's good. That's sooner than I got to work with him. I had to wait almost two months." She laughs. I watch the lines of her back as she relaxes on the bench. "I'm gonna have a protein shake once we're done in here. Then I'm going to do a little weight training with my Dad. You good to work weights on your own, or do you want me to grab a coach for you?"
 "I should be good. Maybe a pointer from your Dad here and there, but I have my sets that I do.
 "Alright." She replies, "After that, I'm going to do cardio. I think you're good for cardio today. You can go outside with the guys and flip tires and shit instead. Then we'll have lunch. After that, we coach for a few hours and then the evening crew will come through. I got a text from a few of the guys wanting to know if I'd be willing to go a few rounds MMA and I said yes. They're mostly amateurs. Nobody exceptional. A lot of raw talent. I'm doing my best to help them. But you being here will really help them." She lays out the day and I nod. I can handle that. As much as I curse cardio, I'd rather do cardio with her than 'flip tires and shit' with 'the guys'. But She had her routine, and flipping tires and shit was much more in line with my routine than more cardio. So I give myself a few minutes to sweat and I watch her. There is not an ounce of wasted weight on her. She's lean and strong. I wanted to see her ground work. I wipe sweat off my face as it drips in to my eyes. The door of the sauna opens and a few of the younger guys come in. Mia doesn't move for them and they don't ask her to. That must me a normal place for her. Right next to the place where the steam is hottest. After they settle in, Mia looks at her phone, flips over to lay on her back, and wipes sweat from her forehead.
 "You liking LaRue MMA?" One of the young guys asks me. I nod.
 "Facility is nice. Training is good, though I wish I'd gotten to do more this morning than kick a bag."
 "Yeah, Durand did that to Mia, didn't he?"
 "I told him." Mia replies. The young guy who had spoken has dark hair which is cut neatly, and a pencil mustache. He has dark skin, and I peg him as being either Cuban or Puerto Rican. He leans forward.
 "You hear about the Kulina-Wheeler fight?" Asks one of the other young guys to the dark haired one. This one is very tall. Looks like a heavyweight. His cauliflower ears give him away as a wrestler. "Shit was sick!"
 "I heard Navy Street is on the ups." Says the dark haired one. The blond nods.
 "Yeah, yeah. GSP is training there. Because he's fucking Misha Martel."
 "Why the hell is Misha Martel at Navy Street? She was at Jackson's!" Dark hair looks incredulous.
 "Shit got bad between her and Greg. The UFC was trying to get her to fight her sister. But you didn't hear it from me." I offer. The young men look as if I've solved the meaning of life.  
 "Ohhhhh shit. That's right! Marina's number one in the division after she lost to what's-her-name?" Asks the blond.
 "Amanda Nunes." Mia fills in. The blond nods.
 "Yeah, Nunes. She's a fuckin' beast. Took out Rousey right after. I think she's retiring."
 "Me too." Says dark hair. Mia looks at her phone and gets up. I follow her. We leave the young guys to talk about UFC. I'd just as soon leave all that drama at the MGM.
 "Smoothie?" She asks me. I nod eagerly.

 She blends two scoops of protein powder, almond milk, two bananas and a handful of blueberries in to the blender. LaRue had a small kitchen which consisted of a refrigerator filled with meal preps from the fighters, a microwave, sink, a cupboard filled with promotional cups from events the fighters had been to, and a small 2 burner stove. There were a few small pans sitting beside the sink. She pours off the two smoothies into glasses and hands one to me. She's actually made it taste okay. I drain the cup, rinse it and place it back. Mia follows suit.
 "I was thinking..." Says Mia, "You remember Misha Martel?"
 "Yeah. Those guys were talking about her in the sauna."
 "I was thinking I might call her out first if I win the title against Nunes."
 "That'd be a good fight for you." I reply, "Misha has really good striking and submissions. She's a money fight too. Former champ. She never lost the belt either. She Vacated."
 "She's tough too. She's never been finished."
 "You could be the first." I say without thinking. She shrugs.
 "Just a thought."
 "It's a good one. I want to fight Yoel Romero." I watch her consider this. She simply nods, stretches, and offers a tiny smile.
 "Well. I have to go find my dad and do weights. You have sets to do, too." She informs me. With a wink, she slides past me and heads off to the weight room.

 When Mia and I walk out of the gym it is getting dark. The kids have long gone and the top Amateurs had sparred with she and I. I'd had some good sessions. There was real talent at LaRue MMA. Mia is tired. She squares her shoulders.
 "Steak tonight?" She asks. I nod in agreement. She trains harder than I would have given her credit for, and I credited her heavily. She's twenty-four and in the UFC. And in contention for a title shot. I slide in to the Jag and drive us to her house. The drive back to her place is comfortably silent. When we pull in to the drive, she lets her shoulders droop a bit and she carries herself back in to the house. I open the door for her and slide past her in to the kitchen.
 "I'll cook." I offer. She smiles brightly, and nods.
 "That would be wonderful." I grab the steaks from the fridge, pick out some fresh potatoes. She seats herself at the breakfast bar and watches me. I get out some ghee which is just clarified butter, lower in fat than normal butter. I scoop some in to a pan and heat it up. The steaks, I rub down with salt, pepper and rosemary. Mia watches me earnestly.
 "You put in some good rounds." I say, "Your hands are better than even the last time you fought."
 "I don't suffer from Durand and my boxing coaches for nothing." She jokes, yawning. "I overdid it today." She admits, "How are your shins?"
 "They hurt for sure. But yeah... I'm glad Durand is gonna let me work with you and Kurt next time."
 "For sure." She says. I drop the steaks in to the hot ghee and watch them sizzle. I slice the potatoes thin, fill another pan with olive oil, rosemary, salt and a little heavy cream and drop the slices in. I dust them with some Parmesan cheese and cover them to simmer and get tender. Mia takes in the smells of the kitchen and sighs happily. "You're a good cook." She says. I roll my eyes.
 "Doesn't take a genius to throw some shit in pans." I reply.
 "Simplicity makes for the best dishes." She assures me. I look at her lovely face. This feels right. So quickly I've fallen for this girl. Or maybe not so quickly. She said it. We'd both waited seven years to hear an I love you from the other. She rests her head on folded arms and waits patiently. "I love you, Michael Bisping."
 "I love you too." I reply. I lean forward and kiss her on top of her head. She smiles weakly. She's going to sleep well tonight. I want her though, I know I do. Perhaps a romantic shower quickie before bed? The possibilities run through my head. She grins at me suddenly.
 "But I want you naked before I go to sleep." She winks, immediately setting my warming blood to a rolling boil. I want her now. On the bar. Against the refrigerator. But I refrain, shaking my head and peppering the steaks before I flip them.
 "Who was that guy I sparred with... the one with the reddish hair? Little guy." I can't recall his name. She takes a moment to think about who it was.
 "That was AJ. AJ Jameson. He's our resident Men's 135er and he has the King Beast 135 and 145 titles. He'll turn pro before long." She explains. I can see it. He was giving me a pretty good game considering my extreme reach and weight advantages over him. When he sparred with Mia, I'd watched him trying to break her down. She's sharp and she knows him well so she hadn't had much trouble with him, but they'd worked some things she saw from his last fight he needed to improve on, and she'd coached him while he sparred with me.
 "He's going to make a real name for himself."
 "I want to talk to Dana if I become champ about talent scouting at LaRue." Mia says, "Or maybe I'll use my press stuff and my media bit for the pre-fight commercials to advertise for LaRue. We'll have to see." She runs her hands through her hair and sighs happily. "It was a good day. Tomorrow will be much easier, I promise."
 "Nah, it was good. I need to change up what I'm doing. Your camp is solid. I can bring my training partners to your gym and they can help everyone. We'll work together on it." She gives me a thankful grin and slides past me in the kitchen to get out plates, silverware and drinks. She pours herself a glass of red wine and I opt for a Corona with lime. She carries the drinks out to the back patio and I load up the plates with the steaks and potatoes, quickly put together a salad with balsamic dressing- fresh spring mix greens, carrots, peas, walnut slivers, cucumber. I bring the plates and salads out to the patio where Mia is staring out over the sunset vista. She digs in almost as soon as her plate touches the table and I follow suit. The steaks are tender and the potatoes are soft and savory. The rosemary zings a bit in the nose but feels good and fresh. Mia eats like she hasn't seen food all day. But when you work as hard as we do, it feels like it. She and I both eat like horses and still manage to keep our abs. We eat in comfortable silence and when we finish, she clears the plates, quickly cleans the dishes and then drags me towards the shower. While I heat up the water, Mia checks her phone.
 "Hey, Michael..." She calls, "Do you wanna have dinner at my parent's tomorrow night?" She asks. I nod eagerly.
 "Yes. I do." I reply instantly, taking off my sweaty gym clothes and watching Mia type out a response, then set down her phone and strip distractedly from her own sweaty clothes. I walk over and pick up the tired girl, wrapping her legs around my waist. "I want your parents to like me. Because I intend to be in your life for a while."


 Michael walks us in to the shower where he immediately attacks my neck with his lips. His neatly trimmed beard and mustache tickle my skin and I smile as he nuzzles me. He shoves me against the wall and quickly makes our bodies one, kissing me tenderly on the lips as he does so. He makes love to me up against the wall, making sure I know who I belong to all the while. He sets me down and gingerly washes my body and hair after we are finished. I'm so tired now that he's set me down. I hold on to him as he washes his hair and body, rinses and he gently carries me from the shower to the bedroom. He dries me with a towel and kisses me on the cheek while he guides me to my side of the bed. He takes a moment more to dry himself off carefully before sliding in to his side of the bed and grabbing his phone to set an alarm.
 "Good night." I say, tucking myself in close to his side and pulling the covers firmly over our bodies.
 "I love you."
 "I love you too."

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Author's Note: The sport of MMA isn't easily censored. Neither will this story be. If it offends you, don't read, simple as! My other MMA story is the same.

 "Hey, Dad." I say, yawning slightly.
 "Morning Champ." My Dad says on the other end of the line. I hear the cage rattling in the background, but it gets further away and I hear a door open and shut before it goes quiet. He's probably walked into his office.
 "So that article... ignore like ninety-nine percent of what that pisser says."
 "And how much is true?"
 "Well you know how the media twists things but here's the short version. Luke and I have been out for drinks once and we were spotted. And rumors started to fly that he and I had been dating for months in secret, but really, we'd just been two fighters out for drinks. I mean I was interested, but not invested... and I did leave with Michael last night. But there isn't anything earth-shattering going on. We're adults. We had dinner and all that jazz yeah but I don't know where it's going. I hope it gets serious but..." I search for the words but none come. My dad seems to understand.
 "Just be careful, Champ. I trust your judgement. Now I'm gonna give the phone to your mom." And he does. My mom usually works at the computer in his office at the gym. She picks up and says hi before the questions start.
 "Michael is a little old for you, don't you think sweety?" She asks me. I roll my eyes.
 "Listen... I can't handle guys my age. They're immature." I laugh, "I like my men with... I don't know. Common sense?" My mom chuckles.
 "I'm teasing you sweety. I like the look of him. He looks like he can really take care of his woman. And that's what I want for you. I'm happy for you, sweety."
 "I can take care of my woman." Says Michael very close to my ear. He takes the phone from me. "And I plan entirely to take very good care of Mia." He pauses as my mother says something to him, he laughs. "Of course I am... yes ma'm. Yes ma'm. Yes ma'm. Of course ma'm." He winks at me. He strikes a hell of a picture what with being completely naked and talking to my mom on the phone. I untie my robe and let it drop to the floor. Michael's eyes follow my every move as I tease him. He says goodbye to my mom and I shout my own before he hangs up the phone and throws it on the bed. "Naughty girl." He says, picking me up and carrying me to the shower.

 Michael is dressing for breakfast. I'm waiting for him because my clothes are all back at my room and I'm not putting my leathers back on. I wear one of the plush MGM robes, and a pair of Michael's socks. He's deciding between this shirt or that, so I text back some of the people who had messaged me.

To: Miesha

 Yessss!!! We got talking and your homegirl got lucky. I'll tell u everything later! :D

To: Luke R.

 Wait... last time we went out was weeks ago... and you're dating Demi???

To: Boss Man DW

 Is it a problem?

 Dana texts me back first.

From: Boss Man DW

 No. In fact it's really good for publicity. I wanted to give you a title shot anyways but this solidifies it. I'll call u later and we can sign paperwork.


 I barely contain a scream of happiness when I read that text from Dana. Michael shimmies in to a tight fitting Reebok shirt with BISPING in red letters. I make a mental note not to wear my LARUE one.
 "What's got you all excited?" He asks, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me against him. I smile.
 "Dana just texted me... he wants to give me a Title Shot."
 "That's amazing." He nods.
 "Do you think I can beat Amanda though?"
 "You have to believe you can. And don't falter from that. You can beat her and you will. Now come on. Let's get you dressed so we can go eat." He gathers up my clothes from last night and I grab my heels. Luckily for us, our rooms are on the same floor because we are kept a little seperate from the general public. This is a floor reserved for athletes and celebrities. My room is around the corner and a few rooms down. Michael follows and I swipe my key card. The door opens and my room awaits- untouched from the night before because I hadn't slept there. I simply had my bathing suit in the shower drying from my swim early on Friday, and towels folded on the desk table. My suitcase is at the foot of the bed, propped open, with space in it from my outfit last night, and my clothes I arrived in neatly folded to the side. Michael takes it in and sets my clothes from last night on top of the ones to the side. He pulls out the desk chair and sits backwards in it, folding his hands over the back of the chair and resting his cheek on them. I pull out my Venum tank top, a pair of black skinny jeans and my plain black flip flops. I set them on the bed and slide out of Michael's socks and the robe. I can feel his eyes on me.
 "Like what you see?" I ask him. He chuckles, rolling his eyes.
 "No... never." He jokes. I take a moment to contemplate my underwear. I have nothing decent whatsoever. I had been embarassed by my sports bra and boy shorts last night. I vow never to let that happen again. I grab my girl bra, which is black and a little lacey on the top, and a PINK by Victoria's Secret thong that I only had because I needed it for Volleyball, which I had every intention of playing. Miesha, a few of her friends and I were going to play at some point while we were all in Vegas. I live here, but when the UFC pays for your hotel, you abuse that privelage and stay in said expensive hotel. It's a little mismatched, but it will due until I can get away to really get new skivvies. Michael looks at me with slight approval, and I make sure to wiggle a little more than I need to to pull on my skinny jeans. I slide the tight athletic top on and smooth it over my muscled core, step in to my flops and turn to a mirror to do something with my hair. It's hopeless.
 "A hat." I tell him, pointing to my bag, "Hand me a hat." I let him pick. He takes a moment. I'm a hat wearer so I've brought several. He selects my LaRue MMA snapback, which I mash down on my disheveled punk styled hair and fix my bangs to hang out the front a little. I take his hand and we walk to the elevator.

 "Hold that elevator!" A male voice calls. Michael shoves his hand between the closing doors and they open again quickly. He ushers me to the wall and stands between me and the door. I roll my eyes but allow him his small show of protectiveness. The elevator suddenly becomes small when all 6'3" of Luke Rockhold presses in to the elevator with Michael who stands only a hair shorter than him.
 "Hey, Luke." I say kindly, hoping there are no hard feelings. Yes, I'd spent the night with Michael, and yes, I was excited and yes, I liked him. But this thing is still new and fresh and I'm unsure. It could end at any moment and I don't think I'd be too hurt about it just yet. Luke nods.
 "What floor?" Michael asks, hand hovering over the buttons. Luke reaches over and presses the ground floor button. Michael lowers his hand. I can sense tension in the tiny space, and I wiggle my way between the two men. Last thing we need is a fight. There are cameras in this elevator, and with the hot press about me and Michael... they'll not leave us alone. That much is clear. Michael gives me a small warning look but doesn't say anything.
 "So Luke..." I begin, "Any word on your next fight?"
 "No not yet." He says, waving his hand, "I'd like to fight Yoel. He's a beast. Or you know... have my rematch with this guy." He gestures to Michael. I nod.
 "It'd be a fight to watch for sure." I agree. Michael nods too.
 "I liked my pay per view bonus." He chuckles, "I'm fighting whoever Dana says I'm fighting."
 "I thought you called out GSP?" I ask. He laughs.
 "Hell no. That Canadian fuck called me out." Michael says, "He wants a super fight to come back. I told Dana make it happen but you know him. This Reebok deal is makin' Georgie a little hesitant and with good reason. That guy makes a killing and he doesn't even have to fight if he doesn't want. Makes sense he'd want to keep his sponsors. He earned 'em."
 "I'd kill to have that Hayabusa sponsorship." Says Luke. I nod my agreement. I have Venum, but so does everyone else. And they don't really pay. They just send stuff which is nice and all but stuff doesn't pay bills. I roll my shoulders and crack my neck. The elevator lets us out and Luke beelines for the concierge. Michael leads me to the valet and one of the boys runs off with a set of keys. A few minutes later and a sleek red Jag pulls up to the curb. Michael opens the passenger side door and holds my hand as I get in, then closes the door behind me. He walks around the front of the car, tips the valet, and slides in to the driver's seat.

 Mon Ami Gabi is a fancy French resturaunt on the strip. I feel at once underdressed but Michael steps up to the hostess and we are seated outside, with a view of the fountains. Breakfast menus are handed to us, and the water glasses are filled. Michael reviews the menu with interest.
 "What looks good?" I ask him. He winks at me over his menu.
 "You do. But I have to eat breakfast before I get my dessert." He winks again and looks at the menu. "I'm thinking the Prime steak and eggs."
 "That sounds good..." I look over the menu and sigh. Everything is expensive. I feel bad. But I feel like Michael is the kind of guy whose chivalry won't let me pay my own way. I sigh, "The Spinach and goat cheese omelette sounds delicious."
 "Right away." A perky voice says to my left and I look up. I hadn't even noticed our waitress appearing. "And what to drink? Or are we staying with water?"
 "I'll have tea. Milk and sugar on the side please." Michael says, tapping on the table with his fingertips.
 "What kind of tea?" She directs his eyes to the menu where the teas are listed and he points to one.
 "Earl grey. Just bring me hot water and the tea bag. I'm a little picky about my tea." He offers a smile and the waitress nods.
 "And you ma'm?"
 "The same, please." I say. Michael takes my hand once she leaves. His thumb drags across the top of my knuckles. "I want to take you to LaRue MMA today." I tell him. "I gave it a lot of thought. But yeah... I'd like you to come have a roll on my mats and get inside my cage." I laugh at my own bravado. As if I would stand a chance in hell against him. He's got experience on me as well as quite a bit of size. I walk around at my fighting weight. He cuts from a bit over 200. Not that he'd hurt me sparring- we're both too professional for that.
 "Little soon to meet the parents isn't it?"
 "They won't be there after noon." I tell him, "The coaches take over for the afternoon. The only time they stick around for the afternoon is when I'm in camp."
 "Okay." He agrees. "What's on the books for me?"
 "Well... I think very much that you should bring a belt and sign shit for the kids that go there. And Then when they clear out I'll help the coaches and you can help the coaches and then when they leave, you and I can do some private sessions in the cage. Your stand up is incredible." He nods and our tea comes. He takes a moment to dunk the teabag in to the hot water and I do the same. He drops a lump of sugar and tops off the cup with milk before sipping the hot liquid. I do the same, but with three lumps of sugar instead of one.
 "Do those kids know who I am?"
 "We watch fight footage sometimes before we introduce a new skill. We have a kids MMA class that runs in the afternoons after school. Your boxing is great. We watched your fight against Anderson."
 "Bloody guy. Cheap shotted me." Michael recalls. He runs a finger over his brow ridge. He has an old, healed up cut.
 "Yeah... glad you pulled out the W though." My phone buzzes in my pocket.

From: Luke R.

 Hey. Fair warning. Saw a lot of paparazzi running around.

 "Who was that?" Michael asks. I sigh.
 "Luke. He wanted to warn us about the paparazzi. I think with he and the Demi thing they'll be more after him but who knows right? We were the top article of Sherdog this morning." I laugh, holding his hand. "Besides, if we start running we never get to stop right?"

We enjoy the quiet morning on the strip, eat our breakfast and are waiting for the bill when a certain MMA reporter slides out the chair across from Michael- we had been sitting beside one another so we could talk more privately. I look up and sigh. It's Ariel Helwani.
 "Hey fancy seeing you two here. Do you have a second to answer some questions?"
 "I read your article." I say as evenly as I can manage. "Listen, I'm not going to start anything. But I'm not giving you anything to stir the pot with, alright?" Michael sits back, listening to me with a look of interest. Ariel notes out intertwined hands and pulls out his recorder anyways.
 "Just a few questions, please."
 "Alright." Michael agrees, and I give him a cross look, "Gotta feed the sharks or they'll frenzy."
 "Feeding causes the frenzy." I reply shortly, but I surrender myself to the sure to be uncomfortable questions.

To: Miesha Tate

 UHGGGGGG just tryna eat breakfast with bae when Ariel fucking Helwani appears from nowhere. FML.

 I shoot that text off, making sure Michael sees it and gives an approving laugh before looking to Ariel.
 "So Michael, after your Unanimous decision win over Dan Henderson, who do you have in the crosshairs next?"
 "Well... I've had a few fights kind of thrown out there for me. In fact just this morning Mia and I were about to head down to the lobby and Luke got in the elevator with us, and he told me he wants a rematch. And I'm more than happy to oblige. He's won one bout and I've won one bout, so a trilogy fight just seems right." He shrugs then and Ariel makes a note. "And of course the big man GSP wants to fight me at 185. I want a big money fight. I think I've earned it. And the return of GSP would be one. He and Dana just need to talk turkey before money can be made."
 "Mia. What did you make of the Rousey-Nunes fight? And where do you see yourself moving forward with the division?"
 "Seeing Ronda lose was like seeing the end of an era. Before Ronda, women didn't fight in the UFC. And Dana said women never would. But Ronda kind of got out there and proved that we deserve a place here. That being said, I think taking more than a year off hurt her more than it helped. The sport kind of passed her by, and I'm kind of sad to see it because she was so dominant for so long. But these days you have to be rounded. One-dimensional fighters don't go anywhere anymore. I know I've had to make serious changes to my training. I still train and fight out of my own camp at LaRue MMA, but I've started cross-training now. Made really good friends with Miesha Tate, Paige VanZant and Jessica Eye. Brought in training partners and all that. I think Amanda Nunes is the beginning of a new era in Women's MMA. I think she could fight anyone at 135- not just women. Maybe that'll happen one day... I don't know. As far as my place in the Division? I'm ranked fifth. I'd love to fight someone in the top 4, just to up my own standing you know? I'm just waiting to hear what Dana has to offer me. I'll fight anyone, any time. I'm ready to go at the drop of a hat."
 "Alright awesome... This one is for both of you. There are rumors going around that you two have had something going on for a while now. Can you clarify?"
 "The first time I met Michael I was seventeen." I say honestly, "But I hadn't seen him in the seven years since. When I met him, I was just a wide-eyed teenager with dreams of being in the UFC. We met in passing when I was heading back to my room, and, as it would seem, we weren't going to meet because we never seemed to show up at the same UFC events. Or never saw each other. I usually don't go to UFC parties or anything because I train. A lot. I go to events when I'm fighting. I do my required press, but I don't BS around you know?"
 "So what made you decide to go to the event last night?"
 "Well, I'd really like a title shot and my Dad actually advised me to go to some more events and make sure Dana knows I'm around and I'm ready to fire, you know? I wouldn't be where I'm at without my Dad."
 "Michael, any comments?"
 "Yeah... yeah. I remembered meeting Mia seven years ago and when she signed with the UFC, it was kind of an 'oh shit' moment, because she told me she was going to fight for the UFC when we first met. At the time, women didn't. And I kind of held on to what she had said with a 'yeah, sure kid' mindset. But then I saw her photos from her signing shoot and I was a bit floored. Impressed even because she'd made it. But beyond thoughts of her, we haven't been seeing each other. Last night was the first time I'd seen her in person since seven years ago. But since she joined the UFC I was always aware of her. I'm not gonna lie, Ariel. How many really pretty girls are there in the UFC? A guy is gonna notice."
 "And what would you think of a Nunes-LaRue fight? How do you see it going down?"
 "Well, Mia and I talked a bit about fighting styles- just today in fact. And she was saying earlier to you that the successful fighters are well rounded. I think Nunes is a black belt in BJJ and a brown belt in Judo. And we saw a few weeks ago with her fight against Ronda that the woman has got hands. I think Mia's a good fighter for sure. I think that her wrestling and her BJJ is really going to be where she succeeds. Nunes has the BJJ and Judo, but I think Mia's wrestling is going to be a deciding factor."
 "Yeah, when I was doing research I saw that Mia was the Number one female and number three overall wrestler in the United States. You qualified your team for Nationals, correct?"
 "At the end of High School I  was 97-0. I won all my matches at Nationals. The two guys ahead of me came from smaller teams so they had more matches. But I would've taken either of them on. I'd met them in passing but never got to wrestle them. Anyways... I was offered scholarships all over the country for Wrestling, but I wanted to do MMA professionally." I explain, "I'm an accomplished wrestler. Part of my cross training is I go to the Olympic training facility and roll with the top athletes there. I wrestle... sometimes work some TKD or Judo when I have a chance with some really good people. I kind of want to reach out to Ronda and see if she would be willing to train with me. I think Michael's right. My wrestling is going to be a deciding factor when and if I get to fight Nunes." I don't say a word about Dana basically giving me the title shot. To reveal that- especially to this guy, would be to risk my job. I lean back against Michael's shoulder.
 "One last question- real quick. Where do you two see yourselves going with your relationship?"
 "Ask me again after one of my fight camps. Most guys don't stick through them." I reply. Michael laughs.
 "Same." He replies. He slides some money under his plate for the bill and offers me his hand. "We're done here, Mr. Helwani. Hope you got what you wanted."

 Michael and I get back in his car and head for the hotel.
 "Uhg. I hate talking to reporters."
 "You'll have to talk to a lot of them if you become the champion." Says Michael, laughing a little. I nod.
 "You're right." I reply, laughing as I do. Breakfast with Michael had been great. Even Ariel Helwani couldn't dampen my mood. Michael gives the car back to the valet and we head up to my room this time. I think he might start something, but I think he knows I'm still sore from last night so he picks me up and puts me in the bed and we nap for about two hours. He was surprisingly sensitive and sweet. I don't think a lot of people would expect it from a guy so dominant and so tough in the cage. His arm is like a vice around my waist, and I feel wanted and safe.
 "Hey..." I say, yawning as I wake and smile, "We should go soon." He opens those blue eyes and nods, one eye closed slightly.
 "Let me look at you for a second." Michael says with a grin. He leans back a bit to watch me stretch and pop my back.
 "Are you driving?" I ask. He nods. "Okay good. Saves me cab fare."
 "You took a cab here?"
 "Nah. I live close. Miesha picked me up. I was gonna cab home just for ease." He thinks on that for a moment. I pack up my bag and we walk back to his room to get his stuff, and we head back down to the lobby. The valet runs off again and drives the sleek red Jag up to the curb again. When we get in, I punch my address in to the navigation and the lady takes us off the strip to my neighborhood. I have a two bedroom house with a three car garage. One part of it is my home gym, the other two are taken up by my Mustang and my Harley Davidson. Michael follows the directions- it takes me twenty minutes to get to the Strip. He parks out front and I punch my security code in to the garage door and it lifts. I don't use my front door unless I'm entertaining. And I don't entertain much. I unlock the door and lead Michael in to the house.
 "So this is home?" He asks. My walls are covered with my Amateur titles and pictures. Fight posters and posters from competitions and autographs are all over. My kitchen is right off the garage entrance. It is huge. Granite countertops, a full gas range and a refrigerator. My livingroom is right off the kitchen. I have my TV which I use to watch fight footage and movies but I don't have cable. There is a little space between a wall and the couch, and against the wall is my tank where I keep my pet snake. She ate a few days ago, so I hadn't been worried about her while I was gone. My bedroom is off the living room, and the other room is on the opposite side of the kitchen but I use it as an office. Michael follows me past the snake cage and in to my room.
 "Gets a little lonely around here sometimes." I say, grinning a bit. "Maybe not all the time now." I wink at him. In my room, I have a bed, my walk in closet and my master bathroom. I have a couch with a reading lamp beside it where I sit and read. I have a bookshelf and that's it. My walls have photos of me and family, some more signed memorabilia. My bed looks so welcoming with its familiar red and black bedding and soft feather pillows. Michael and I set down our bags in the closet. He opens his suitcase and grabs compression shorts and fighting trunks. I keep on my Venum tanktop and switch in to my own compression leggings. They're also by Venum and have a paint splattered look. I put on my running shoes and grab my keys.
 "Come on. You parked behind the door for my motorcycle so I'll drive." He follows me, sliding his mouthguard in to his pocket. I have a locker at the gym so I don't worry about getting any gear. LaRue MMA is only five minutes from my house.

We arrive just as the coaches are getting ready to run the kids class. They beam at mine and Michael's arrival.
 "LaRue MMA only has a few rules." I say, "Wear a mouthguard sparring. No hits below the belt. No swearing in front of the kids." Michael nods slowly and the kids run over, jumping on me and looking up in wide-eyed wonder at Michael. He's got his belt over his shoulder.
 "Holy cow!" Says a girl named Ava. She's small, but a hell of a player in BJJ. She smiles at Michael. "Michael Bisping!"
 "My mom said you're Coach Mia's boyfriend." Says a little boy. His name is Robin I think. Michael smiles at him. They all go get something for him to sign and he takes his time signing everything. White belts, gi tops, the odd boxing glove. I smile and watch him. After this, Michael and I help the coaches hold pads for the kids class- today is boxing. Michael even spars a bit with some of the kids, kneeling down so the kids can actually reach him. He's so sweet. I find myself watching him teach tomorrow's fighters. Murphy, one of the older guys who coaches boxing mostly comes over to stand beside me where I stand outside of the cage. He's in his sixties and he's Irish, with the thick accent to boot.
 "Michael Bisping huh?" Asks Murphy. I nod, and he weaves his fingers through the cage. "You made a good choice. Look at him. He's good with the kids, he seems a noble sort... how'd that happen?"
 "I just got lucky. I met him in passing when I went to that UFC fight seven years ago. And we got talking last night at the bar at an after party."
 "I see." Murphy nods, clapping his hands. "Alright. We'll take pictures and then we're gonna call it a day." The kids all groan sadly. They step out of the cage and the ones that have phones take selfies and snapchats and the ones that don't ask me to take pictures and I text them to their parents. Michael does silly poses and mimics the kids. I'm so happy watching him. The kids are picked up one by one and as the group gets smaller, the coaches call it quits too. I promise the last ones to leave that I'll lock up and shut down all the lights.

 Michael and I wrap our hands as soon as the door slams behind the last coach. None of the fighters are here- they usually come by in the morning, and if they want to come in in the afternoon, they text me and see if I'm gonna be there. I finish wrapping my left hand and then wrap my right. Michael already has his hands wrapped and is warming up in the cage. I take a moment to stretch, jump rope. I run a few laps around my mats and watch Michael shadow box in my cage. I'm warm and he has a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. I want him so bad. But I need to be all business. I need to treat him like just another sparring partner. Another coach. I step in to the cage and he picks up some mits.
 "Alright babygirl." He winks, and I roll my eyes. "Come on then. Show the Count how well you hit mits." I shake my head to clear it and punch my own hand and give him my best game face. He holds up the mits. The angle of his shoulders and head and hands, and the way he moves shows me he's just as serious as I am. I follow his lead. He doesn't say a word to me or give a command, he simply tells me to react to what he throws out. Sometimes I'm wrong and he catches me lightly with the mits, but the goal isn't to actually hurt me, so he stops them right before they would smash in to my face. After an hour, he's slowing and I'm sweating. We forge on until I'm making fewer and fewer mistakes, and he starts giving me verbal commands. He takes off the mits.
 "We gonna spar?" I ask. He shakes his head.
 "You've got hands. Not like your ground game but I can tell you have put in work." He praises, "I want you at one-hundred percent to spar me. I'm just bigger and I don't want to hurt you. We'll pick up tomorrow." He winks at me. And I know the implication. He wants to spend the night at my place and come back tomorrow to work again. I want him to. We could come in in the morning and put in work with a few of the really good amateurs. I thought I might call Miesha but decide against it. My parents and my peers would be enough eyes on Michael. Not to mention since those kids took pictures with Michael at LaRue, people might flood in for a chance to get the scoop on our relationship, as well as try and put in some rounds with the Middleweight champ.
 "We can come back tomorrow morning." I offer. "C'mon. Let's hit the grocery store. I don't have anything worth eating at home."

 We arrive home with bags in hand. Michael helps me put everything away and I throw some more water in my snake's water dish. He comes over as I scratch my four foot long female cornsnake on the head. She flicks her tongue at me and climbs on to my hand.
 "Hello there, little miss." I tell her. Michael raises an eyebrow but asks if he can hold her. I transfer the snake to his hands. She looks so much smaller in his hands than in mine. She flicks her tongue at Michael and curls around his fingers. "Her name is Santeria."
 "Like the song?" He asks. I nod.
 "Isn't she a beauty? I got her when she was tiny. I wanted a pet because I was lonely, but didn't wanna worry about a dog-sitter while I'm gone for a week at a fight."
 "Good idea." Says Michael, "Easy keeper she is then?"
 "I feed her once every two weeks or so and she's happy. Fill the bowl when I think about it. She shits in the same place every time so she's easy to clean up after." He holds her out to me and I take her back. She wraps around my hand and looks at me. Whoever says snakes aren't great pets ought to be shot. She's very easy to handle and so nice. I place her back in the cage and make sure her door is locked. "I'd wash your hands. The musk doesn't smell good." I watch Michael recoil when he gives his hand a curious sniff. He goes to the kitchen to wash his hands and I get a jump on dinner. We aren't in fight camp, but we need to maintain so the cut won't kill us. I make us some lemon pepper chicken with steamed brocolli and carrots, and some roasted garlic potatoes en lieu of bread. Michael opens the refrigerator and gets out two Coronas. I direct him to the fruit drawer where he gets out the lime, cuts it, and places the lime in the long neck bottles before handing one to me as I mess over the stove.
 "Is it better with lime?"
 "Only savages and the poor drink Corona without lime." I reply, "And even the poor scrape up fifty cents to get a lime for their beers. As not to be confused with the savages." I joke. He laughs, tips the beer onto his lips and nods at the flavor.
 "It is better." He says. I plate the chicken, throw some brocolli and carrots on the side and check the potatos. They are tender to the fork so I grab them out of the oven and split them between Michael's and my plate. I hand Michael his as well as a fork, knife and napkin and lead him out to the back deck where I usually take my dinners. It overlooks my pool which is lit now by the lamp I had installed under the water. It glows green-blue and the fading sun dyes it shades of red in places. The rocks and red sand I have in place of grass in the yard turn darker and darker as the sun sets.
 "This is the life, isn't it?" I ask. From my house, you can look down into the valley and see the twinkling lights of Vegas. I can see the MGM Grand where I'd be fighting soon, and the strip and the palm trees and the tiny ant-like tourists that flood the streets and parking lots.
 "It is." Michael sips his beer and works on his chicken. He, like me, considered food like this fuel and nothing more. We'd worked hard today, and we needed the protein right after the work to feel energized tomorrow.
 "What do you want for breakfast?" I ask. The chicken is at least tender, and the lemon gives it some zing. I'd have rather done buffalo style or chipotle, but I'd forgotten to get the seasonings for it.
 "I usually have a run in the morning before a protein shake on my way to the gym." He replies. I nod my agreement. On my rest day, if I was feeling frivilous, I'd sometimes make an omelette. But most mornings, even on my days off, I'd usually put a scoop of protein powder in the blender with a cup of water and a few ice cubes, and choke it down in the car on my way to the gym. I'd given up trying to make them taste good a long time ago.
 "Sounds good to me. I have a good route I run in the mornings. I'll go with you." I stare over my city, humming a few bars of a song I'd caught on the radio about life being a road and where sky and sea are one. This is what I think as the sun sets behind the mountains and Michael sits beside me, eating food I'd cooked. The moment seems right, and I'm alive in it.
 "We should have been doing this for the last few years." He says somewhat whistfully. I glance over at him and find him looking at me. His eyes are full of a softness I'd never thought a fighter could posess. His plate is cleared. I finish my own and stack the plates, placing our silverware on top of them and taking his hands. He stands up and follows me. We look off to the last ribbons of sunlight over the city that never sleeps, and I kiss him passionately. His hands grab at the back of my head, pulling me closer and I place my hands on his abs. He presses in to me, and when he's losing himself to the moment, I take his relaxed state as an opportunity and shove him backwards in to the deep end of the pool. At the last second, just as I think I've succeeded in catching him off guard, he grabs me, dragging me in with him. We splash in to the pool fully clothed and laughing. He pulls me in to him, tall enough to stand in the deep end of my pool, which really isn't that deep, and kisses me again. Everything moves so quickly, I barely even notice that he's drug my leggings down, pressed me to the edge of the pool and quickly made our bodies one. I gasp at the sudden action but wrap my legs around his hips, allowing him to fill me.

 I shower and Michael gets settled in, then he showers and I grab a book and am idly reading it when he comes out to the bedroom. He has his towel slung low on his hips and the water glistens on his skin. I glance up and try not to look too interested. But I fail miserably. He takes the book from my hands and leans forward. I was sitting on my reading couch, and he stands in front of it with his hands on either side of my head, resting on the back of the couch. He smells of my soap and his shaving cream. His hair is mussed from where he had towel dried it and neglected to comb it.
 "Enjoy the shower?" I ask him, placing my hands on his shoulders. My knuckles are bruised. Until my sponsorship gear comes in, I'm slumming it in my ancient Everlast gloves, which are torn to hell on the inside and smell like something died in them. Michael's hands are pristine. I can tell they've been fractured in places where the knuckles are warped, but he has hands that show that he's a man. They're hands that could protect his woman.
 "I did." He replies, "Though it was lonely. But warmer than the pool."
 "I'll remember that for next time." I say, watching his towel as he breathes. It comes loose and slides down and off his hips to be a damp heap on the floor. I'm in a loose fitting tank top that is meant to have a sports bra worn under it, without the sports bra, and very short shorts that I usually reserve to sleep in. And Michael Bisping is naked in my bedroom. "Can I make it up to you by not making you sleep alone?"
 "Read my mind." He chuckles, flicking off my reading lamp. He scoops me up as if I weigh nothing, kills the lights to the bedroom and places me on the bed. I pull back the covers and get under and Michael crawls in beside me. "But you have to lose the clothes. I'm naked. You have to be too."
 "Needy motherfucker..." I say with an eye roll, but obligingly pull the tank top off over my head and discard the shorts. We'd both been shivering a bit when we got out of the pool- it was chillier than I'd anticipated. Both sets of our clothes were in the dryer as we speak. He'd grabbed sweats and a jacket while I rushed for the shower. He'd decided to stay for a few weeks to train and get to know me, and wanted to get settled. He'd plugged in his phone charger, put his toothbrush and comb in my spare drawer in the bathroom, hung up his suit in my closet. He'd acquainted himself with my television and DVDs while I showered as well. Then he showered and I'd been reading a few chapters in Ronda Rousey's book when he came out. Now I'm laying in his warm arms and wondering how I got so lucky.
 "Your skin is so soft." He says, burying his face in my shoulder. I roll over and inhale the scent of him, my face against his chest. His arms go around me and I'm warm and content.
 "Mmmm..." I blink tiredly, closing my eyes. "Goodnight, Michael."
 "Goodnight, love." He kisses me on top of the head and I can feel his eyes on me as I drift to sleep.

 I wake up before my alarm goes off and I switch it off before it can. I watch the Count's chest rise and fall as he sleeps. He's lying on his back, sprawled out on his side of the king size bed. He looks so young in his sleep. He's not guarding anything, not worried or stressed. His lips are parted slightly as he breathes in deep, steady breaths. He'd trimmed up his facial hair but left his moustache and beard. It was just shorter now than it had been. His hair is a mess and I know he'll have to wet it again to tame it. I sit up on one hand, run my fingers through my short locks and let my eyes wander over his form. His chest is broad and firm, his abs toned, descending to hips too wide to be narrow and too narrow to be wide, and the covers that are raised at the apex of his thighs. Naughty thoughts creep through my head, and I wonder if he'd like to be awakened by me riding him. Yes, I think, yes he would. I pull the covers aside, confirming my suspicion that he was rock hard in his sleep. I carefully slide over to straddle him, making sure not to wake him, and gently rub my clit. I'm so excited, so nervous too, but my excitement wins out and I'm slick and aroused. I want this man and I want to please him. I slide myself down onto his cock and let out a soft moan. He's not a small man and I'm still inexperienced, but I manage to slide him in without any pain. I slowly rock my hips, grinding on him and use my hands on his chest as leverage. I hear a sharp intake of breath as blue eyes pop open. One of his hands goes to my lower back and the other props him up as he starts to rock his hips in time with mine. I kiss him flush on the lips and place my hands over his head, gripping the top of the headboard. He scoots back so he's leaning on it and his hands both go to my hips. A moan parts his lips when I dip my head down to the crook of his neck where I stay, pleasure coursing through me as my body at once comes awake and alert. His hips start to move faster as he too wakes up and he pulls my face from his neck to look in to my eyes.
 "Where do you want the Count to cum, love?" He asks me. Inside me! My mind screams, and I tip my head back in a moan when he starts to rub my clit. "Tell me, baby girl."
 "Fuck..." I manage to get out, "Where... wherever you... oh fuck! Wherever you want! Give me your fucking cum..." He snarls in my ear, picks me up so he's almost all the way out of me, and drops me back down roughly on his dick, his balls slapping my ass with a satisfying slap of skin. His hands press me down and hold me on him, buried deep inside of me.
 "I'm gonna fucking nut inside of you baby girl." He tells me, "Tell me you want it."
 "I want your cum! Fuck me..." He lifts me up and slams me back down a few more times, causing me to cum for him, all thoughts of decency flying out the window as pleasure courses through me. "Michael!"
 "Take that fucking cock. You're such a good girl for me baby..." He kisses my neck and with one last push he shoots his load deep inside of me. "Mmmm... fuck. I love you baby."

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Ch.1 LEMON WARNING! If you don't like, don't read!


 I remember kissing those lips like it was yesterday.

 I was seventeen and stupid. And he was older. Much older. And not as stupid but not as sober, either.

 And now I'm staring at him across a room full of people I've spent my life trying to get to respect me and then I meet his eyes and recognition dawns on him in the time it takes me to cast my eyes down.

 Michael Bisping

 He hasn't moved closer to me when I look back up. I have kept up with the Middleweight champ. I watch him as he makes up his mind to come over. It's New Years. And this... this is Vegas. It's a fighters-only party set up by Dana White. There are fighters- pro and amateur milling about, having some laughs, talking. There are UFC fighters and Bellator fighters and Invicta fighters and the drinks are served by dutiful MGM Grand staff. Bisping threads through the crowd and it parts for him.

 I was turning to the bar and ordering myself a Stella Artois when he slid in to the space beside me and held up two fingers. He doesn't look at me until the drinks are placed in front of us- it's an open bar. The tab will be paid later, by Dana.
 "What brings the Count to my side of the bar?" I ask when I feel his eyes on me. I take a long sip of my drink and wait for his answer. I have waited seven long years for this moment, and my gut clenches with fear... and excitement.
 "I've never had an excuse to talk to you." He says quietly. "Never been in the same room since that night, seven years ago." And he was right of course. After our night, we never spoke again. He had my name, my virginity, and then he was gone. But more than that. I had been training in Mixed Martial Arts since I was little- my Dad is a coach. I'd fought in exhibition, Boxing and Muay Thai since I turned 14, and done Jiu-Jitsu tournaments since I can remember. And I fought six times my first year as an Amateur when I turned 18, won 5 of them. At 19, I fought only four times that year, and at 20, I took 7 fights, three of which fell through, but had a record of 12-2. One of my two defeats came at the hands of a girl who later tested for steroids, making my record go to 12-1-1. And once I turned pro with Strike Force, it didn't take long for the UFC to pick me up. And now I'm the number 5 ranked Women's Bantamweight in the UFC. Michael of course had been on my mind when I signed my contract- not like I thought I had a chance in hell, but I knew at some point I'd see him again. But in my 4 years with the UFC, I had not crossed paths with him until tonight.
 "That's true." I say, watching as he tips back his beer bottle and drains it to half. "Why now?"
 "Well for one, it's nice to see you. You've really made a name for yourself." He compliments, "You had an incredible Amateur career after that night. And got noticed by the UFC almost as soon as you turned pro."
 "All of those things are true." I reply, running my fingers through the cool perspiration gathered on the glass of the bottle in my hand. "We both made a mistake that night though."
 "You think so?" He asks, dead serious. I look at him, and can't decide if it is hurt or denial in his eyes. Perhaps both.
 "I was under-aged and you were piss drunk." I reply. "It could have been the end of your career and it could have ended mine before it began. We got lucky."
 "I suppose that's true." The Count taps his fingers on the bar. He's still handsome. In fact, I think he's better looking now than he was seven years ago. He's almost too good looking for my own good. I take another sip of beer. "This is awkward." He states simply.
 "Yes it is." I agree, laughing slightly. The bartender has gone further down to serve others, and I think, to give us privacy.
 "I think this conversation is better had away from all of our co-workers." Says Bisping, and I nod my agreement. I'm getting red flags but I ignore them. I respect him. And I can only hope he respects me in return.

 We order dinner up in his room and eat in silence for a few minutes. We'd both ordered steak. He finishes before I do and I don't finish mine, and I slide it to the side with a napkin set over top like a mourning cloth.
 "So what... you had such a tremendous career as an amateur... what was that like?"
 "Who are you, Ariel Helwani?" I joke, smiling slightly and smoothing my hands over my thighs. I'm wearing black leather skinnies, strappy heels on my feet with a glittery tank top and a leather jacket over top. I'm not the type of girl to wear a dress. Michael makes me feel under-dressed with his tailored suit. "Well... to tell you the truth, I like being a pro better. For one, it pays, and second, I'm actually challenged."
 "I understand that." He nods. "But you're doing well."
 "Not as well as you."
 "I've been here longer." He chides. I nod my agreement. "I wanted to talk to you. About me... after that night."
 "Alright." I'm curious.
 "You left so early the next day." He says. I had. As soon as he fell asleep actually, I'd found my clothes and scurried out of his hotel room. My dad had sent me to a 'meet and greet' so I could see Dana White, and I had. But... then I made a wrong turn on the way back, stumbled in to Michael, and the rest is history. "I heard the door close when you left. I was mostly sober by then and I wrote down your name so I wouldn't forget." He leans back in his chair, running his fingers through that dark brown hair. His eyes are as blue as they were that night.
 "I was kind of... worrying my Dad." I tell him, crossing my legs then uncrossing them. I'm fidgety and I don't know why. "I was just supposed to go to meet Dana White at the after fight meet and greet... when I ran in to you."
 "You were perfect." He says, "I might have been a little out of my senses, but I knew I had to have you."
 "I was a virgin."
 "Did you want it?" He asks me then, suddenly worried. "I didn't mean to be out of line."
 "I did." I say quietly, "But at the same time... you were my first... everything. Kiss even." It comes pouring out now that I look at the reality of him. He's here, with me. And everything, every detail, comes flooding back. "I never had time for guys. But you were you and you wanted me, and that was just... I couldn't fathom it."
 "You were a beautiful young woman. Still are." He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I'd like the opportunity to do things right this time."
 "What do you mean?"
 "I mean... I'd like to take you to bed and wake up with you tomorrow. And I'd like to take you to breakfast. Because that was my intention seven years ago, and it hasn't changed."
 "I'd have liked to." I say quietly, "But..."
 "You have someone?"
 "No... no... if... Michael we can't. If it comes out that you and I have history... the media will tear us apart. And knowing those sleezy bastards..."

He stands up and I do too. His hands find mine and then, all too quickly, he's picked me up and has my legs wrapped around his waist. I wrap my arms around his neck and he pushes me up against the wall. His lips meet mine, his beard tickles my face slightly. My fingers clumsily try and undo every button I can reach.


 I'd have recognized Mia LaRue if I were blind. I'd known seeing her would come to turn with us both high ranking in MMA, she was young, attractive, and a good fighter- all things good for getting noticed by Dana White. She was stunning in her black leather look, leaning elbows on the bar. She meets my eyes and I know for sure that it's her. Well... I've known for a while. She did photos for the UFC as soon as she signed and I'd seen them. And I'd followed her amateur career closely. I wanted to meet her again. Sure, I could have used my star status and simply say I "stumbled upon" her fights and wanted to see it in real life, but with our history, I couldn't do that. So I waited, bade my time. And now here I was, just a room between us, and I walked through the crowd. The guys who know me well see my eyes locked on her and I am given a few pats on the shoulder. I don't hear her drink order, but I hold up two fingers when I sidle up to the bar beside her. She has good taste.

 As we stood at the bar talking, I am overwhelmed with the feeling that I want to do right by her. She's not angry, but I know I've wronged her, which doesn't sit well with me. She's a beautiful young woman, and that night seven years ago, I'd almost ended everything for both of us. She hadn't said a word back then and for that I'm grateful. She's tentative but sure at the same time, feeling out the conversation like one would feel out a fight. She and I continue the conversation up in my room after a tense dinner. This is not how I imagined tonight going. I'm usually much smoother in this department. But she's different.

 And now she's wrapped her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my waist and I have her pressed against the blank wall of the hotel room. She's got such smooth skin, I want to touch, to press, to know her. Her black hair is cropped very short, shaved in the back and sides with long bangs coming off the top and parting to the side. She wears red lipstick. I want that lipstick smeared all over the bedding. She's clumsily undoing all of the buttons on my shirt that she can reach, loosening my tie. She moves her fingers to my hair and musses the combed locks to hell but I don't care. I pull away from the wall, throwing her down on the bed and follow after her quickly, shedding my jacket and tie and shirt as I go. She turns over, undoing her belt and kicking off her heels. The skinny jeans are sexy but I have some trouble with them, even with her helping me as best she can. Her movements are unpracticed, she hesitates. I slide her easily from her jacket and shirt, leaving her in very utilitarian, practical black sports bra and boy shorts. She still drives me mad. She had a nice body then and it's even nicer now.
 "I haven't done this since you." She says quietly. I nod slowly. I slide her panties down and off long muscular legs and she pulls her bra off over her head. She sits up then, grabbing my belt and tugging it off. I step out of my shoes and socks and help her to slide my pants off. My tight boxers do nothing to hide my arousal, but she doesn't seem to care.

 Sex is usually intense if I'm in to it. Sex between fighters is even more intense. Despite her trepidation, we forge on. I hadn't spent as much time with her our first night as I should have. She was delicate, fresh and untouched, but me, in my drunken state, had simply fingered her enough to open her up a bit, and pushed in, pausing to let her get used to the feeling, then took her. She had cum for me several times, being her first, but I hadn't given her my best and I knew it. I slide a finger in to her sex, feeling the tight walls around it, and slowly pump in and out, watching her face twist with pleasure. Her fingers slide down to massage her own clit and I place my free hand on her stomach, holding her down so she won't wiggle away from the feeling. I'm going to make her cum for me. I'm going to make her cum more than she did seven years ago before I even let myself feel her around my already desperately hard cock. She tries to close her legs around my hand but I push them apart again, sliding in a second finger. She's so sensitive and she cums for me as soon as I start moving with the two fingers. I don't stop. Her walls contract around my fingers and I lean down to kiss her. She is panting hard, her eyes full of lust as I move my fingers a little more roughly. She gasps, hand moving off of her clit to clutch the sheets at her sides.
 "Fuck... Michael..." She moans. She's already tightening again. I speed up a little, rubbing her clit with my thumb as I do and she squirms as her second orgasm wracks her.
 "Feel good, baby?" I ask, my voice deeper than usual. She nods. I take my fingers out of her and she whimpers at the loss. I kiss her once more, heated, passionate. She kisses me back. I slide my tongue along her bottom lip. She pulls back a bit but then deepens the kiss, allowing me to explore with my tongue. I pull back, attacking her neck with gentle kisses and nips and licks and then quickly push three fingers in to her. She gasps, back arching off the bed as I ram the fingers in to her. She moans, hands finding my shoulders to brace against me, panting all the while. She's so lovely flushed pink with arousal. And so wet. She raises her hips when something feels good.
 "Please..." She whimpers, the tail end of the word becoming a cry of pleasure when her walls tighten around my fingers again. I keep moving them in her until the orgasm has ebbed and I slide down my boxers.


 Flashbacks to seven years ago seem dull now compared to the reality of the moment. I have Michael Bisping on top of me, making me feel amazing. I watch him slide down his boxers. His cock springs free of the tight fabric and I lean forward, reaching out for him. He gazes down at me.
 "I want you to show me." I whisper, "How I make you feel like you made me." He offers a rare grin and takes my hand.
 "Spit in it." He tells me, and I do. He slides my wet hand over the head of his cock, down the length of him. He uses his free hand to massage his balls. I push his hand out of the way once I see what to do. His hand still guides mine up and down his length and over the head. I press my thumb to the space on the underside of the head gently and he jerks his hips, so I do it every time I get there. He lets me figure out on my own for the next moment what feels good to him. I lean forward, kneeling on the bed in front of him and he looks down at me. I push him back a step to kneel on the floor, and he gives me a look of surprise. But he doesn't argue. He places a hand on the back of my head. "Fuck... baby..." He says quietly. I gingerly lick the tip, then take the head in to my mouth. He moans, pushing lightly on the back of my head. "That's it baby... mmm..." I feel a spike of pleasure go through me at those words coming from the Count. "Use your hand on the shaft baby. Fuck." I follow his instructions, enjoying the sounds he's making. He pulls me up and throws me roughly on the bed. I bounce lightly on the plush surface and I brace my hands on either side of me, one leg bent and the other straight out in front of me, toes pointing towards Michael who slowly crawls towards me. I wonder if the lust in his eyes is reflected in mine. I feel like they are and at his devilish grin, I lift my hands from the bed and muss his already undone hair.
 "Michael..." I hum, moving my hands from his hair to the sides of his face, then down his neck and rest them on his shoulders. "Please..."
 "It might hurt again." He tells me, "Since you haven't done this in seven years."
 "Hurt me." I whisper. "I need you." He takes my tone as affirmation and lifts me, placing my legs on either side of him and lining himself up with me.
 "Hold on to me, baby." He says to the crook of my neck. He pushes in to me and my nails dig trenches in his back as pain courses through me. He was right, it did hurt. But it is a good kind of pain, a pain I know will lessen once I get used to the feel of him. "I'm sorry babygirl." He says, still to the crook of my neck. I quiver. Every nerve is alive and every touch feels like fire. For a brief second I wonder if all the fighters downstairs had seen us leave together. I wonder if the reporters outside had taken notice of us. I wonder if he really wants me beyond tonight. But when his hands move to my hips, when his teeth find purchase where my collarbone curves in to the muscle of my shoulder, when he jerks his hips back and then uses his hands on my hips to push me back down on him, all thoughts become fleeting as he makes love to me. I meet those blue eyes, sinking in to them, melting in to him. And I am immediately undone entirely. He kisses me deeply, lovingly almost. And I kiss him back.
 "Michael!" I cry out, holding on to his shoulders. I feel hard, trained muscle flexing under his skin as he moves in me, pinning me down and bringing me back up. He is everything I remembered and more. It takes him only moments to have me cumming for him- hard and unrelenting. As soon as one ebbs, I can feel the beginning of another. I had tried masturbating but didn't like it, so I hadn't. I was told by my friends that once you start having sex, you won't stop, but that wasn't true for me. Right after my night with Michael, so long ago, I'd immediately begun vying for amateur fights and spending so much time in the gym, I didn't have time for boys or dating. And I think in the back of my mind, I was hoping I would get to see the Count again. And here I was, in his bed, with him making love to me.
 "You're so tight babygirl." He mumbles in my ear, panting lightly, "What do you want me to do now?"
 "Don't stop!" I cry, "Please... oh..." He pulls out, turning me on to my stomach. He raises my hips in to the air and leans over me.
 "Rough?" He asks quietly, voice low and rumbling. I turn to look at him and nod yes. "Sweet girl..." His face changes then. His look is predatory and needing. It is a primal look. "I'm going to fuck you now. Be a good girl for the Count, and he'll take care of you... understand?" I nod again, wanting only to feel him. He grabs me by the hair, not too rough though, seeing how much I can take or want, and kisses my cheek. "You'll remember what I do to you tonight when you walk tomorrow. You're going to hurt with every step, but you're going to want more." I nod again, which pulls my hair taut between my scalp and his hand. He smirks, releasing my hair and one hand goes to my shoulder, shoving me down in to the mattress. The other goes roughly to my ass. He pulls me back onto him and I arch my back and push against him. "Good girl." He praises, "You learn fast." He moves both hands to my hips to pull me back against him with everything he has, pounding in to me. I fall apart, not knowing quite what to do with the pleasure coursing through me. He pounds me, and I keep waiting for him to flag or slow, but I should know better. He's a guy used to training cardio for hours. He's fit. This... this is exercise. He pulls out suddenly, rolling on to his back and pulls me on top of him. "I want to see what you can do, baby." He says. There is a thin sheen of sweat on his chest and arms. I eagerly straddle his lap.
 "Show me how to please you."

 In the morning, I'm too warm and the space between my legs hurts and when I go to sit up I feel resistance. I turn. There is a large, muscular arm around my waist. It's a nice arm. I turn over, groaning slightly, and follow the arm to broad shoulders and a wide chest. And resting above it all is a bearded face with messy dark brown hair. The Count looks younger in his sleep. The arm around me is like iron, like he wants to keep me. And I remember what he said last night. That I'd left too quickly last time. He's worried I'll leave again. But I won't. I gently smooth his hair back in to some semblance of his combed style and smile at his sleeping face. It was worth the wait. He is perfect and perfect for me. Too old for you, I think my Mom would say. But I don't care. I never cared much for men my own age. Mickey Gall and I are the same age, and we'd had a date, but he was two things: driven and determined to fight, and immature when it came to women. I'd had dates with a few guys around my age, never more than two or three years my senior, but always found the same thing. They weren't mature enough for me. And there was humor in it, but not really. Laying here with Michael felt inherently right. I could see myself having something with him.

 I stretch to reach the nightstand beside me and check my phone.

Missed Call from Paige VanZant

Missed Call from Miesha Tate

Missed Call from Dad

Missed Call from Jessica Eye

Missed Call From Dad

Missed Call from Nate Diaz

Missed Call from TJ Cook

Missed Call from Joe Daddy

Missed Call from Luke R.

 I check my text messages.

From: Dad

 Did you look at Sherdog today?

From: Mom

 He's too old for you.

From: Miesha Tate


From: Boss Man DW


From: Luke R.

 So I guess drinks today are off.

 The text from my dad had me interested. I check Sherdog. Top story. The first thing I see when I open the site is a picture of me and Michael at the bar talking.

By: Ariel Helwani

 Saturday night is always lively in Las Vegas, but last night, it wasn't the fights that had the media roaring- it was the fighters. I was at the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino because I was tipped off that there was a Fighters-Only cocktail party in one of the card rooms, and I wanted to try and score an interview with someone. Everyone was there. The biggest names from the UFC, Invicta, Bellator and Strikeforce were there in full participation, and I thought for sure, it would be my night to score a top interview.

 However, the bit of news I have to share today is a bonafide Cage-side drama. Number 5 ranked Bantamweight in the world Mia LaRue- let's look at her career shall we? She is 12-1-1 as an amateur and 6-1 as a professional, is no joking matter. In fact, I think it's safe to say that she is in good standing for a title shot- and soon- and current Middleweight Champion Michael Bisping, were seen by yours truly leaving the card room together. They were speaking quietly, and they got in the same elevator. My guess? They spent the night together in one of their rooms. I think very soon we'll have more information on these two, but a very important question is raised... Mia LaRue is no stranger to the Middleweight division. There were rumors that she and Luke Rockhold were dating secretly. Is this a love triangle in the making? If Rockhold gets his rematch with Bisping, will they be fighting for the title, or vying for Mia's affections? With Bisping currently holding the belt, and as it seems, the girl, Rockhold is at a new career low. All joking aside, I think it's safe to say that LaRue and Bisping have a story to tell, and once it comes out, I think, it'll rock the UFC. Sell those tickets Mr. White. Maybe going after Bisping is a career move. He's a champion after all. Seeing her beside a champion might make Dana give her a shot to be one herself. Maybe even on the same card as beau to be. Stay tuned MMA fans.

 I roll my eyes. I always hate answering Ariel Helwani's questions and I can't believe he got to the front page of Sherdog. I toss my phone on the bed and turn to find Michael wide awake.
 "Hey." I say, kissing him gently. He kisses me back and pulls me deeper in to his warm arms.
 "What's that bloody pisser reporter saying about us?" I like how he says us. I smile, rolling my eyes.
 "I went out for drinks with Luke like once and then these rumors started that we had been dating for months in secret. Whatever. But Helwani was saying that if Rockhold gets the next shot at you, it'll be a fight for my love or whatever." I laugh, "Making drama where there is none, as it goes."
 "Of course." Michael chuckles. "Besides. He's been dating Demi Lovato or whatever her name is for a couple of months. He and I play it up in the media but I don't dislike the guy." I nod my agreement and sit up.
 "Mmmm... I need... shower." I try to stand but Michael pulls me back down.
 "Wait." He says, pulling me back down in to his arms, and then sitting up himself. "Give me a second." He takes a moment to look at me lying in the twisted sheets. He takes one of his large, rough hands and runs it over my naked body, smiling as he does it. "You're mine."
 "Mmmhmm." I say, "Go heat up the water. I have a few phone calls to make." I wink at him, slide in to an MGM Grand bathrobe and grab my phone from the bed.
7 Years and Counting (Queen's MMA AU) Bisping x OC
Chapter 1! I wanted to write something for the hell of it and I started actually on chapter one before I even had an idea who the fighter was going to be and who my character was going to be. I'll make a reference sheet for Mia eventually. :D



queen-of-olympus's Profile Picture
Mrs. Brock Rumlow
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
Hey guys I'm queen-of-olympus! (But you can call me Queen, Queenie, or Calli. All aliases. First names are for close friends only)

Check out my YouTube Channel!:…

And Facebook:…

For edits, art/drawing requests:
Art trade: I will draw just about anything, as long as it is not explicit. Depending, I will usually return whatever is given to me with equal effort. So if you give me an inked lineart, I will give you an inked lineart.

Comissions: Always open.
Black and white scanned pencil drawing: 5 points
Inked and scanned drawing: 10 points
Colored, inked and scanned drawing: 15 points
First character is of no charge, each additional character is 1 point.

I <3 RPing! I will RP: Marvel, Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect, The Walking Dead, The Scorpio Races, The Boondock Saints, and Greek Mythology!

Diana Calhoun (Captain America)
Sif Duffy (Thor)
Marie Seigfried (Skeleton Crew)
Ileana Vincent (Avengers/The Vision)
Lilith Kopek (Daredevil)
Erin Blackbourne (X-Men)
Callistos Ibn-la'Ahad (Assassin's Creed : Brotherhood)
Achilles (Lee) Ibn-la'Ahad (Assassin's Creed : Brotherhood)
(f) Commander Callistos Shepard (Mass Effect)
(m) Commander Izekial Shepard (Mass Effect)
Ashe Talamo (The Walking Dead)
James Talamo (The Walking Dead)
Meara Walsh (The Scorpio Races)
Ciara Flynn (The Boondock Saints)
Ares: God of War (Greek Mythology)
Cadhla (Norse/Celtic Mythology)

:iconchrisevansplz::iconjeremyrennerplz::icontomhiddlestonplz::iconninthdoctorplz:<- <3 these guys!

Current Residence: I live on Thisby!
deviantWEAR sizing preference: I really don't care!
Print preference: None
Favourite genre of music: Nu-Metal, Metal, Rock, Punk, Rap
Favourite style of art: Pencil and Paper/pen and ink
Operating System: Computer, sketch pad, anything I can draw on
MP3 player of choice: Sprint Optimus 3gs
Shell of choice: IDK, Carpenters Dwarf Triton?
Wallpaper of choice: Dont have wallpaper
Skin of choice: Asian?
Favourite cartoon character: (insert 'videogame' over 'cartoon): Altair
Personal Quote: "I can do whatever I want." (You have to sing it)
I could use some friends... Note me if you can tell me what to do about my problem below.

 So the other day I made a post saying something about "The guy I have been dating". He messages me a few hours later and it just says "We need to talk." And after that, "You can't post stuff like that. We aren't dating."

 I think to make you understand how I'm feeling ya'll will need some background...

 I met this guy on a dating app, but we had met in passing once or twice at a gym where our two groups occasionally cross paths. (Long story on that one...) But he messages me saying hey how's it going I think I've seen you at the gym bla bla bla. At the time he sent me this, I was ass over teakettle for this motherfucker who did me wrong (Which is another long story... and if anyone wants to drop me a note, I think it'd be good for me to talk about it...) But anyways, I was all hung up on this asshole who turned out to be a complete waste of time because he had a girlfriend for most of the time I was seeing him. Well, I progressed with this potential guy from the dating app, to Kik, where I decided he was cool and real and gave him my phone number. Well, we chatted there, and then he added me on snapchat by phone number- all cool... we exchanged laughs and funny pictures... well. I was kind of keeping him at arms length, thinking he'd be a good friend or something, but then some shit went down between me and the asshole who I was all hung up on. It was kind of a low point for me. I'd been so hung up on this guy. I told him a few times that we needed to talk about us because I thought he was the shit and I wanted to boyfriend him. But that shit fell like a ton of bricks (Again. Long story for another time. This is about the current man). ANYWAYS... The guy I had been kind of chatting with and I started talking more seriously and I decided what the hell? And asked him one night if he wanted to meet me somewhere for dinner. He said sure and we met up at a sports bar that I like, chatted a bit, ate some food, then went downtown to walk around... I had the best night of my life. He was good looking and charming and sweet. He'd paid for our dinner and held my hand. I'm not naive enough to say I was falling early. The guys before him kind of fucked me up for that. I learned my lesson. We ended up at the city circle and I kissed him. He kissed me back and we ended up staying there for well over an hour just kissing and talking and we walked back to my car holding hands and he looks at me and says "I was not expecting this." And he kissed me again. I went home floating on air and promptly messaged my closest friends telling them how amazing the date had been. It was simple, no BS, no drama. And I had loved every second of it.

 Well we continued to go out on dates. He has a very demanding job which makes him travel a lot and he told me that he would have to. I don't have an issue with this. My philosophy on relationships and dating is simply this: If we are going on dates but we haven't had the "What are we?" Talk, then we are both free to play the field. But we are dating even if we aren't exclusive. And once we have that talk and we decide to move forward, I say that the other people we are seeing go away and I'm loyal to that one person- cut and fucking dry. He told me in November that he would be gone for most of December. And I told him simply that I'd miss him while he was gone. We continued seeing each other through November and towards the time he was about to leave, I asked him... see we'd been going out for nearly two months. Seeing each other around once a week when he was home if not more. He met tons of my friends and some people whom I consider adopted parents. They all liked him. I liked him. I told him I liked him a lot. And despite his work taking him away frequently, he always stayed in touch and made me feel wanted even when he wasn't around, which is more than I can say for some of my exes. Anyways... We were standing by my car outside of the gym. He came to work with me. I'm tentatively getting ready for a fight and he wanted to learn some Jiu-Jitsu. We got finished and we were saying goodbye and making out a little by my car and it was quiet between us. I don't know what he was feeling but I was tense. He's smart and perceptive, I'm sure he knew I had something on my mind... well I finally just fucking said something. My words to him were "So... when do I get to tell my friends I have a boyfriend?" Because I wanted to keep it light. Because I wanted him to know where my head was at. AND HE SHRUGGED. A non-committal shrug. But he quickly justified, saying his job was going to keep him for nearly a month and he wanted to wait. I understood that. But I was, admittedly, disappointed. I've had a string of shitty ass guys until he came along. I thought he was different. Turns out he was just gonna hurt me in a different way.

 I feel that I was up front about what I do. But the fact of the matter is I haven't had anything further than a hook-up since I started seeing this guy. Meaningless, No strings attached stuff. I am certain that he knows how I am. At the beginning, there were other guys I was kind of seeing but I started cutting off the ones I was losing interest in. My attention shifted to the one guy and I was accepting how happy he made me. He left for his work after Thanksgiving but we stayed in touch- texting each other almost daily. This brings me to my introduction- where shit hit the fan. Where he told me we weren't dating and I wasn't allowed to say that. First of all, would you not call going on dates and being romantic "Dating"? I understand how he misunderstood what I meant. But goddamn... He texts me "We need to talk" and then "You can't post stuff like that. We aren't dating."

 I told him that he should call me as soon as he got done with work. He said okay and we didn't communicate after that. About... I'd say fifteen minutes later, I get a Messenger request from a girl who's only mutual friend on Facebook with me is this guy, asking me how I know him. I chatted with her for a while and found out that he had started seeing her about a month after he started seeing me. I was unsure what the think. I ran through a million scenarios as I drove to the house of one of my best friends and told her everything. Then he called me.

 There was a lot of silence and my heart was in my throat. He told me that the whole situation was his fault and that he thought he knew what he was doing. He told me that he liked me a lot but his last relationship ended badly because of his work. That his work was going to keep him booked for the next few months and that he didn't want to start anything until he was sure. All of that I can agree with... except to the part where he lied to me. I don't see, as a moral person, how he could hold me and kiss me and take me on dates and text me and call me baby and in the back of his mind know he has someone else he's doing the same things with. And to top it off she even kind of looks like me. The fact that I hear about him dating another girl from the girl, who clearly also thought she was the only one too, pissed me off so much, and it hurt. I told him we had a lot more to talk about when he got home. What we said to each other couldn't be said in text... it needed to at least be over the phone, so I can hear his voice. But talking on the phone felt wrong. I told him to think about what he has to say to me and to let me clear my head and do the same. I told him he was going to talk to me when he got home and he agreed.

 After we got off the phone he sent me a text saying "I'm sorry. This doesn't mean it has to be over. I guess we just have to wait and talk. Try not to worry about it. I'll see you soon." I'm hurt and confused and I honestly don't know what to make of any of this. The girl messaged me for a while and tried to get me to confront him and get mad. I think she wanted me to look crazy but I told him straight up, "Hey so... I didn't want to leap down your throat until you had a chance to tell me where you are at but... after you messaged me that we needed to talk, I got a messenger request from a girl... and the only mutual friend we had was you. And she made it seem like she thought she was the only one you were seeing." I was, in my opinion, calm, collected. I have a temper, but this wasn't the time for it. I told him I was disappointed and upset. I reminded him that I had been dating other people, but told him too that after time went on, he was starting to gain more and more of my attention. And that if he'd been up front about him seeing another girl I wouldn't have been upset. He told me that his concerns were that he works a lot and far away and that he has decisions to make on life and everything and I told him I never wanted him or anyone to make a decision based on someone else, especially not me. But he's gone away for work and as we moved forward I missed him more and more but it made the time we had together sweeter. He said he thought he was annoying me when he would have to move times, days, or cancel entirely on planned dates. But I told him if he thought that was a concern he should have talked to me. I'm an extremely laid back sort of person which I think is why this situation was able to go. I told him that I have my own life to live and that he has his and I like him and want what is best for him. He restated over and over that he knew it was his fault that this whole thing happened.

 I guess my whole irritation with all of this is the fact that... with the last three guys I have been with, the problems I had with the guys weren't because of me. And I don't mean to sound like I always think I'm the innocent party... I evidently LOVE to pick out the damaged guys. The ones who got fucked up or fucked over by other chicks and I'm just about sick of it. Two guys prior I was with a guy who had a dead girlfriend. And he said that he wasn't ready to date again because he was still dealing with that. And I got it. We were physical. That's it. It ended, I moved on. Then the guy who had a girlfriend. Well we ended because of the girlfriend, but he told me that before, he'd been engaged to a girl who broke his heart by cheating on him after they got engaged. This guy said his work ended the relationship and she had been at fault. I can understand that. When he's gone, he was always good about texting me a few times, even if it was just "Good morning" or "Good night." Small gestures that made me know he cared, at least a little bit. So if her problem was not feeling wanted, she was blind. But what pisses me off the most is that with all three of these guys, I feel like when they were with me, they were seeing their history- their past and track record. I guess because of how I am with people, how I interact or deal with situations, I take each person at face value. I'm quick to trust, slow to forgive and easy to talk to I feel. But the guys I have been with don't see that or are too wrapped up in their past to see the future in front of them. To give a new girl the same chance the one who fucked him up got. And I know that some might say that that's just a good way to get hurt again. But in my mind, I feel like if any three of those guys took ME at MY face value, they'd see that I'm fucking great. And no girl, not just me, should think otherwise. I'm fucking great and I deserve the best. Because I do. Because I know my worth and if a guy doesn't see that then I don't need him. I just want them to see ME instead of HER or the Ex or whatever. If you fuck me over, don't expect a "clean" break. But I'm so blunt that anything but brutal honesty is a little hard for me to swallow. I'm an "All out in the open" kind of gal and it's hard I guess to expect that from someone.

 I know some day my stars will align. I love being in a relationship- to have someone to care about. It gives me ambition to do better. I'm always healthier when I'm in a relationship. Not for him, but for us. If I could go back, there's lots of things I would do differently for sure... things I would say that would prevent whatever dramas drove me and so and so apart. And maybe HE isn't the one. I was just hoping he was.

 I don't know after this if I can trust him, nor can I say if my future will have him in it. He's the funniest, sweetest, and honestly the best fit person for me. He's ambitious, and I knew about two weeks ago that I was slowly falling for him. I don't like to get too tied up in emotions but I couldn't help it with him. He's so damn handsome and when I would think about him, I wanted him. He wouldn't even touch me at first without kind of in a silent way asking permission. And if we end up splitting, my world will be just a bit darker without him. He seemed like my silver lining because I'm just out of two bad shipwrecks. He actually took me on real dates and met my friends and my friends liked him. But the fact that he could be so cool and so quiet about having someone else in another city pissed me off and hurt me more than I can say. I can only hope that our in person chat will clear the air for both of our sakes.
  • Listening to: Celtic music
  • Reading: old texts
  • Watching: UFC
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Mozz Sticks
  • Drinking: water


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Eye-of-Ra-X Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2016
Thanks for the Crossbones fave.
queen-of-olympus Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2016  Student General Artist
No prob! It is cool!!!
TheScarletMercenary Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2016  Student Filmographer
Hey :)
TheScarletMercenary Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2016  Student Filmographer
Howdy :D
queen-of-olympus Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2016  Student General Artist
TheScarletMercenary Featured By Owner Sep 19, 2016  Student Filmographer
Been a long time :D
queen-of-olympus Featured By Owner Sep 20, 2016  Student General Artist
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Phsbarbie Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the faves!
queen-of-olympus Featured By Owner Jul 15, 2016  Student General Artist
np! I loveeeeeee your work
Lover-of-Music Featured By Owner Jun 27, 2016  Student General Artist
Thank you so much for the fav!  It really means a lot
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