War Baby: A Novella by Daya Daniels

Author:Daya Daniels [Daniels, Daya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sayad Books
Published: 2017-05-11T05:00:00+00:00

Pierce

“Do you want to me come over?”

“No.” I say gruffly into the receiver, kicking my feet up on the coffee table.

“Oh, you don’t sound good.”

“I’m fine.” Ravi says through the phone. “If you change your mind, you know you can always call me Pierce.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It’s three in the morning on a Saturday night. After Ravi insisted for the third time tonight, I had to decline his offers to come here and give me a blow job - as much as I wanted/needed one.

Ravi is delicate – too delicate for me. He’s around five feet tall and weighs probably one hundred pounds. The last time he left here, he was covered in bruises and markings from my handling. I need something tougher – more durable, like a pair of Doc Martens. I need more than what Ravi could offer.

Besides, I had no desire to fuck anyone else besides Baby. Fuck.

Another loud breath escapes my lungs, while I run my hand over my hair crossing the room. I lift a hand and place it on the cool glass, admiring the view I have of the city.

I always used a condom when I fucked other men. With Baby the other night, I hadn’t. I berated myself for being so careless. It wasn’t something I did...ever.

I pull off my beanie and hoodie and toss it all on the sofa and bend over to unlace my boots. When I finish, I plop down in it and stretch my arms and legs out wide.

It had been an exceptionally frosty night, tonight and even colder once you start heading under the city. I’d spent the last few hours watching Baby fight, tucked deep in the thick crowds as they shouted his name, causing a deafening sound to explode through the tunnels beneath an unfinished building in the East Village.

“War Baby! War Baby!” His name a chant on their lips, as though they worshipped him.

The crowd surrounded him, while he stood in the center of the concrete circle, barefoot, shirtless and wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. All tanned skin, cut muscle and sweat galore on display for everyone’s greedy eyes, including mine. His hair had been cut, the strands soaked with angry sweat making them look darker than they really were. If I wasn’t mistaken, he’d gone to my barber on West 65th Street for the new do, which made me smile.

Baby had taken down two men tonight – one with a vicious elbow to the face and the other with a powerful kick to the ribs. He fought like an animal, like a man trying to expel his rage but failing. He fought like his life depended on it.

He moved differently from how he’d fought me only one night ago, telling me he’d been holding back. The realization only made me seethe. He’d fought me with the intention of losing – with the intention of staying to work for me, even though it was clear he could do better and maybe even deserved better.

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