#aleksumar

Umar Nurmagomedov had been dating Aleksandre Topuria for a few months now and he's found out a few things about him. A lot of things that were new for the Russian.

Everything about their relationship was new territory, unfamiliar and especially nauseating for Umar. They had to keep things secret. No one, especially his team, had to know and Aleksandre knew this.

Yet he did everything to make it as obvious as possible.

Umar sits down on the gym bench, sighing as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away and exhaustion took over soon after. He tugs off his gloves before starting to unwrap his hands, before he caught someone walking up to him from the corner of his eye.

"Uma," Aleksandre coos, a hand on his hip as he approaches his partner, "how was training?"

Umar smiles softly as he sighs, "good, but you know, tired," he answers, handing his handwraps to Aleksandre who started to roll them without complaint.

"You should train with me some time," Aleksandre murmurs, his eyes full of fondness, affection and something indescribable as he stares down at Umar, "each time I see you, always grapple, grapple, grapple. You need boxing too."

Umar lets out a soft chuckle, nodding his head, "you never invite me," he hums before finally glancing up at Aleksandre, "how about you? How was training?"

The Georgian smiles and hands the rolled handwraps back to Umar, who accepts it and stuffs it into his bag, "it was okay—"

His voice was cut off by an agitating, grating noise.

"Umar!" Merab exclaims, running up and pulling Umar into a tight bear hug, which Umar accepts by wrapping his arms around him and patting his back while laughing quietly, "how you doing, buddy?"

"I'm doing okay brother," the Russian responds as Merab lets him go, "how are you?"

"I'm doing wonderful because I see you!" Merab huffs, a smirk on his lips as he swings an arm around Umar's shoulder, "you want to come jacuzzi end of week? Just you and I?" he murmurs, his face a bit too damn close for Aleksandre's liking.

"Oh, no thank you, brother," Umar shakes his head, face and tone just as oblivious as always—unable to tell that Merab is flirting with him so openly—it pisses Aleksandre off and he just wishes that he can show Merab who Umar belongs to.

His body moves faster than his mind, grabbing Umar's hand and yanking him away from Merab, both men letting out a surprised yelp.

"Umar," Aleksandre huffed, his voice barely disguising his jealousy and irritation, "I'm sweaty and I can barely bear it now, I'll go to the showers, okay?" he gritted out, squeezing Umar's hand tightly to signal him to follow along.

"Oh, okay," Umar, who was slightly taken aback, could only nod as his brain tried to catch up as to why Aleksandre was acting like this.

Aleksandre let go of Umar's hand soon enough, before storming off to the gym's shower room.

"What is his problem?" Merab huffed as he placed both hands on his hips, as confused as Umar.

Umar shrugs before he grabs a towel from his gym bag, "don't know, but I'll go shower too, need to be clean."

Merab nods in agreement and watches as Umar walks and soon disappears into the shower room. He stands there idly for about 5 minutes, his need to see Umar warring with his morality before his thoughts get the better of him, and he follows Umar's steps, stopping just beside the doorway.

...

As soon as Umar steps into the room, he's pulled into a stall by Aleksandre, causing him to yelp before he feels a hand is slapped over his mouth.

"You naive thing," the Georgian growls, his eyes full of a certain fire Umar has only seen a few times, a fire that he only sees when Aleksandre is jealous, "don't you see what Merab is trying to do?"

"What?" Umar whispers once Alex finally releases his hand from his mouth, "I don't get it, he is just being friendly—"

He whines suddenly when he feels Aleksandre's hard length rub against his thigh, only then realizing that Aleksandre was naked in the stall, as well as aroused.

"He wants you," Aleksandre snarls out before slamming Umar against the wall before flipping him over so his back is facing him, "don't you see it?"

No, Umar can't see it. He can't think at all, actually, his hands moving to tug down his shorts without him even being aware of it. The feeling of Aleksandre having him pinned against the wall like this, the feeling of his breath against the back of his neck and the feeling of his cock rubbing up against the back of his thigh is almost too much.

Aleksandre doesn't miss this little action and a small smirk grows on his lips as he leans forward to nip at the back of Umar's neck, "needy thing," he whispers, spitting on his palm and giving himself a few pumps. He reaches down to spread Umar open just to spit onto his hole, earning a pitiful whimper from the man.

Aleksandre lines up his cock with Umar's eager hole, before slowly easing the tip into him which wrings out a surprised and needy moan that echoes throughout the shower room.

"Fuck," he groans, his hands gripping Umar's hips to still his squirming hips, "you feel so good."

"Move–" Umar whimpers, desperately trying to move his hips back against Aleksandre's cock, "Please, move-"

Umar lets out a strangled moan, the noise sounding like a bomb in the silent room as he feels Aleksandre push even deeper into his tight and warm heat that clenched tighter and tighter with each inch that was inside him.

Aleksandre wraps an arm around Umar's neck to hold him in place as he pulls his hips back, his cock almost slipping out before slamming back in all the way to the hilt, punching out another strangled moan from Umar's lips.

"Good boy," he groans, tightening the arm around Umar's neck as he hears his moans and noises become more and more desperate and needy, "You're so loud. You want Merab to hear and show him who you belong to?"

Umar barely manages to move his head to respond, unable to even speak as his eyes roll to the back of his head with each thrust. He can see it from the edges of his eyes: his cock lolling and leaking helplessly as he can't even stop himself from moaning like a needy whore. His ears could barely register the filthy noise of skin slapping against skin.

"You belong to me," Aleksandre groans as he drives faster into Umar, pounding another embarrassingly loud whine from his lips as Aleksandre rams his cock against that one spot that makes Umar sees stars, "Only me."

"Please—" Umar chokes out, his hips fucking himself back against Aleksandre's thrusts ever so slightly, "Aleks— I'm so close, please—"

"You want to cum? Huh?" Aleksandre murmurs as his free hand comes down onto Umar's ass, a sharp slap echoing throughout the stall that makes Umar shudder and whimper, "Who do you belong to? Tell me."

"You!" whimpers Umar as he squirms again, his body only stilling when Aleksandre's arm squeezes around his neck, "You– Aleksandre!– I belong to you.."

"That's right. I'm the only one that can make you feel this good right? No one else," the Georgian growls as he quickens the pace, causing Umar to cry out and brace his hands against the tile walls. This doesn't escape Aleksandre and he smirks against the back of his neck, "Cum for me, Uma.."

"Aleks!" Umar sobs out, his hips stuttering as he falls over the edge, his cock seizing up as he spills against the wall, his cum dribbling and following the grout.

At the sight of this, Aleksandre lets out a harsh and guttural growl as he spills into Umar, his cum filling up Umar with uneven spurts.

"Mm— Aleks-" Umar whimpers out his head turning back to glance behind him as the Georgian eases his arm around his neck.

"You did so good," he coos, kissing Umar's cheek as he rubs his hip soothingly, "Now everyone knows you're mine."

Merab's breath hitches as he slowly takes his hand out from underneath his shorts, his spend painted onto his palm. Humiliation and guilt spreads onto his expression before he wipes his hand onto the inside of his shorts and quickly leaves the scene, pretending he just didn't listen and jerk off like a freak.

He came home victorious but a changed person,dazed, lost, scared, in a group prayer he was seen almost gone, far from everyone, like he was praying for salvation, he was praised from concentration and devotion to allah, but little did they know the sin he had to attone for, he was actually praying for salvation.

Prayer was one thing, and confusion was another, umar had never looked another man like that, he hadn’t liked anyone, even experimenting with videos, but no nothing, not until the blond flashed across his mind.

He stayed up praying that night one more. He couldn’t look abdulmanap in the eyes, his coach, his uncle, the man that raise him and was proud of him, how could he lie to his maker, his coach the man that shaped him, but he couldn’t say the truth either, he would be shunned.

Khabib teased him, trying to bring a smile to his face, the facde not enough to convince anyone. He retreated, left his old self behind and became a whole new man, the one who wouldn’t fall for such temptation.

Umar had to continue traveling and attending competitions, tournaments, after all he was one of the best in the sport, before he was excited, happy to show everyone his talent to show that dagestan hid talent so great that they could concur the world.

Now every time he got on a plane he stopped breathing, stepping foot in a foreign gym made him nauseous. He was scared those piercing blue eyes, the ones that looked at him with love and hatred at the same time, would look at him once again, would enchant him, drive him to sin and bring shame to his family, his teammates and his coach. He felt a tingle on his lips everytime time he went into a tournament, he had a fight or flight response everytime time he saw blond hair, in his case more like fight response. But no every time he got ready to fight the urge, every time he got ready to fight that sinful blond Spaniard, who appeared in his dreams every year, like an anniversary, he came up empty handed.

He was glad, happy, thrilled to be freed of that bastards presence, but why did his heart feel a twinge, like a crack every time he was prooven wrong.

For years he was free, he even started relaxing, knowing that that devil was not gonna run into him anywhere, probably rotting away in spain as a washed up athlete, the peaks that umar would reach in his sport, in wrestling, in mma would keep him safe and far away from that talentless jackass.

Years passed, khabib put dagestan on the map as a mma champion producing machine, islam paving his way to a championship and now it was umar’s turn. He got signed and started defending the nurmagomedov honor in the bantam weight devision.

There was a surplus of Caucasian fighters in the ufc, mainly dagestani, chechen and georgian fighters. Merab had made history as the fist Georgian ufc champion and ilia had been making waves in the featherweight division, he was an absolutely pretentious fighter, making comment and getting the reaction out of opponents had made him a favorite of the press, but you had to agree that his fights were magnificent. He fought with pressure and precision, and umar got to witness that fight live against volkanovski, what a sight it was for behold. A specimen.

watching the fight was one thing but the uneasiness he felt was another thing, he felt like someone was staring at him, looking around he couldn’t see a thing.

Ilia threw a perfectly timed punch folding aleksandre and calling tko was quick, the stadium erupted and chaos began, It was crazy to behold such mastery, ilia was goring around the cage celebrating, and his corner was rushing in hugging him and congratulating him. Looking into the cage umars heart stopped, those blue eyes could never be missed, it was that bastard watching him. eyes burning with passion. Umar always knew he would fight that disgusting devil, but now for some reason he was running away ,running from the arena, wanting to go as far as possible. Running away like a pussy wasn’t certainly what umar planned for but it is what his body did involuntary, leaving his friends and teammates behind he hid. He ran hiding his tears, the shame bubbling up in his gut once more. Why did he appear all of a sudden?!? And what was he doing in Ilia's corner?why now? After so many years? Umar ran to his hotel room, looking up everything about ilia to figure out who was in his corner. Lo and behold it was his brother. That’s why he knew russian. And even more shockingly he was an amazing mma fighter who coached ilia. Umar had to avoid him. No matter what.

Little did he know the bastard he was trying his best to avoid had turned California upside down looking for the pretty dagestani boy his heart had longed for fro so many years.

he had tried to look for umar back then too, the day umar ran out of the bathroom he strolled the halls of the gym looking for the short boy. years went by but he had nothing to go off of only that he was a brown eyed,brown haired russian fighter, with a mole on his upper lip.

that mole drove him mad,that face was what appeared at night, when he closed his eyes. the boys he messed around with deliberately looked like that pretty boy, who looked like a sinfull angel despite the weird and unflattering bathroom lighting.

he gave up searching, accepting that the boy had simply vanished off of the face of earth and was somewhere else, probably heaven waiting for aleks' arrival.

he couldn't let the boy go now.

any contact he had,any person he knew, he used to find that beautiful boy. Those pretty dark eyes those lips and that pretty mole that made him look more feminine that ever was what his soul had been asking for.

The anticipation of meeting him once he found out where the boy whose name he just found out but could never forget-umar, the cousin of the ever notorious and legendary khabib nurmagomedov, was overwhelming, his brother had just become champion but this was bigger.

Much bigger.

He would run into umar no matter what. He would camp out in umar's hotel, stalk him and follow him back to dagestan if that’s what it took. He would get umar no matter what.

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