Sparring Partners [18+]

Chapter Seven: Old Memories

I'd never been more uncomfortable in my life, I thought as I awoke, laying on an itchy rug in the middle of an unfamiliar living room.

The rug was too rough against my skin, the floor too hard, and I was so damn sweaty and grimy it felt as if I needed to scrub the top layer of my skin off in the shower. There was a pale, hairy knee near my face, a light brown arm slung across my waist from behind, and movement somewhere in the distance.

With an inaudible groan, that consisted entirely of me screaming internally to myself, I pried the random arm off of me, and pushed myself into a sitting position. Immediately my head spun and my stomach churned, and there was a horrid taste in my mouth that was so dry I was sure not even a swimming pool worth of water could fix it.

Where the fuck was I?

I turned to scan the room just in time to catch sight of Markus silently walking towards a kitchen in just a pair of boxers, recognisable from behind by his unforgettable arse (and his tattoos). Intricate black tattoos covered his back, the designs stretched across every inch of skin, cut off by the grey fabric of his underwear. Similarly, ink also decorated his thick thighs, though they were a little bare, compared to the rest of his body.

Unaware of my staring, he stopped at the kitchen sink, filling a glass with water before downing the whole thing, his throat bobbing with every gulp. A dribble of water ran from the corner of his mouth, down the length of his neck to the curve of his collarbones. I sat there in silence, shamelessly transfixed, afraid even the smallest sound from me would disrupt the moment.

"I realise we haven't had breakfast yet, but try not to look so damn hungry," someone teased in a hoarse whisper. I jolted, turning to find Roman laying behind me with dishevelled hair and a crooked grin. At least I now knew who the arm belonged to...

Someone moaned painfully, and a leg kicked out and nudged me in the side. Lynch rolled over next to us, an arm slung over his face to shield his eyes from the morning sun that bathed the living room through the open curtains.

"Can you guys shut the fuck up? My head is killing me."

Roman laughed, a little too loud and a little too sharply, and even I winced as Lynch hissed and covered his ears.

"Little shit," he grumbled under his breath, striking Roman in the stomach before he could react. Roman hunched over on himself, all the air expelling from his lungs with his face pinched in pain. "You deserved that."

"You're actually the worst," Roman wheezed. He rolled onto his knees and used a nearby sofa to pull himself up to his feet. Just watching him made me dizzy. If I even attempted to stand up right now, I may very well throw-up.

"Why are we all sleeping on a random living room floor?" I asked, eyeing the room. It was definitely a student house; I'd been in enough of them during freshers week last year to recognise the shitty furniture, and small sized living room of a run-down student terraced house.

Fuck, this floor was probably filthy.

"Well, I live here," Roman said, rubbing at his face roughly, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. "I live right by the pub. Worst decision I ever made if you count the number of times Lynch has stayed here after one too many drinks. Clearly, everyone was too drunk to go to their own bloody homes last night."

"Please," Lynch scoffed, sitting up slowly. "You literally dragged Daisy here last night. Said she lived here now, and some other bullshit about you guys being best friends."

"Your lying has got out of control, Lynch," Roman called over his shoulder.

"Rome refused to sleep in his bed, 'cause he didn't want to leave you alone with us two," Lynch said in a stage whisper, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he turned to look at me. "Probs worried we'd have a threesome without him."